Alex’s AllergyAlex had an allergy
that no one could explain.
It made him wheeze and cough and sneeze
and moan and groan in pain.
A single slight exposure,
and he’d start to squawk and squeal.
A second time ensured
that he’d be barking like a seal.
He’d salivate and slobber
as his nose began to twitch.
He’d squirm and say his body felt
like one gigantic itch.
At last they found the cause,
which Alex thought was pretty cool.
So now he stays at home;
he is allergic to his school.
Get Off Your Sister’s Homework“Get off your sister’s homework!”
I heard my mother shriek.
“Don’t sit on that!
Your sister’s been at work on that all week!
“Get off your sister’s homework!
Please show her some respect.
I think you may have smashed it.
Her experiment is wrecked!
“Get off your sister’s homework!
That wasn’t very nice.
You’ve ruined all her effort,
and she’ll have to do it twice.
“Get off your sister’s homework!
Now please come over here
and let me scrape your sister’s
slugs and earthworms off your rear.”
My Computer Ate My HomeworkMy computer ate my homework.
Yes, it’s troublesome, but true.
Though it didn’t gnaw or nibble
and it didn’t chomp or chew.
It digested it completely.
It consumed my homework whole,
when I pressed the Shift and Enter keys
instead of Shift-Control.
It devoured my hours of typing,
every picture, chart and graph,
and it left me most unsettled
when I thought I heard it laugh.
I would guess it was a virus,
or it could have been a worm,
that deleted every bit
but didn’t prompt me to confirm.
I suppose I might have pressed Escape
instead of pressing Save,
but, regardless, my computer
now will never misbehave.
For I found a good solution
and I smiled to hear the crash,
when I chucked it out the window
and it landed in the trash.
Meat LoafMy mother made a meat loaf
but I think she made it wrong.
It could be that she cooked it
just a little bit too long.
She pulled it from the oven;
and we all began to choke.
The meatloaf was on fire
and the kitchen filled with smoke.
The smoke detectors squealed
at all the flaming meatloaf haze.
My father used his drink
to try extinguishing the blaze.
Mom shrieked and dropped the meat loaf;
it exploded with a boom,
and splattered blackened globs on
every surface in the room.
The dog passed out. The kitten hid.
My brother screamed and fled.
The baby ate a piece of meat loaf
sticking to her head.
My father started yelling
and my sister went berserk.
But I kept cool and said, “at least
our smoke detectors work.”
Robots in the SchoolThere were robots by the hundreds
that had taken over school.
They arrived here from the future
when they needed to refuel.
They invaded every classroom
and went clanking through in the halls.
If you looked inside the bathrooms
you’d see robots in the stalls.
They surrounded all the teachers
and propelled them out the door.
Then they headed for the offices
in search of even more.
They ejected the custodian
and Principal as well,
plus the secretary, nurse
and all the other personnel.
They intruded in the lunchroom
and evicted all the cooks.
They expelled our good librarian
and commandeered her books.
Then they came across a small surprise
in section eight-one-one;
just a book of silly poetry
that looked like lots of fun.
When they opened it and read
about a zebra and giraffe,
their connections started sparking
as they all began to laugh.
Next they read a funny poem
where the teacher fell asleep.
All their heads began to rattle
as they bellowed long and deep.
When they read about the lunchroom
and the stuff in Lost and Found
they began shake and wobble,
and they crumpled to the ground.
Then they read a final poem
and their circuits overloaded.
They guffawed so uncontrollably
that all their heads exploded.
Now the school is back to normal.
All the teachers have returned,
and we’re happy for the all-important
lesson that we learned.
There is nothing quite so powerful
or mighty as the pen,
and we’re memorizing poetry
in case they come again.
Chicken Pox Connect-the-DotsI got a case of chicken pox.
My skin was strewn with spots.
And so I grabbed a marker
and I played connect-the-dots.
I started on my pinky toes.
The lines went up my feet,
Around my ankles, shins and knees,
and right across on my seat.
They circled ’round my belly-button,
outward toward my hips,
then up my chest, around my neck,
and past my chin and lips.
The lines continued on my ears,
my eyebrows, cheeks and nose,
then out my arms and in again
and downward to my toes.
I ran and got a mirror,
and I smiled as I was seeing,
by linking all the dots
I’d drawn a 3-D human being.
Belinda BrooksBelinda Brooks loved library books,
She hoarded them all for herself.
She’d check them out to spread them about
or straighten them up on a shelf.
She boxed her books in crannies and nooks.
She filled every crevice and crack.
She stuffed her home with textbook and tome
but never would take any back.
Her dresser drawer held novels galore.
She kept them in cases and cans,
with lots and lots in packets and pots,
and packages, parcels and pans.
She cleaned and wiped the volumes she swiped,
and tenderly treasured each book.
She’d sit for days and lovingly gaze
at all the editions she took.
In bowls and bins and baskets and tins,
in canisters, cartons and crates,
so poor Miss Brooks, with all of those books,
was wanted in fifty-two states.
For she was fined, but always declined
to pay or surrender the books.
And so, in shame, Belinda became
the biggest of library crooks.
When she got nailed, Belinda was jailed
and sentenced to years for her deed,
so now, with time to pay for her crime,
she’s finally learning to read.
Underwater SandwichMy sandwich is soggy and falling apart.
The crust and the lettuce are floating away.
I guess that it probably wasn’t too smart
to play with it here in the bathtub today.
They served them today in the lunchroom at school.
I saved mine through English and Science and Math,
then carried it home thinking won’t it be cool
to play with my sandwich upstairs in the bath.
But now the baloney is starting to sink.
The mustard and mayo dissolved in the tub.
It’s puzzling, but I am beginning to think
my “submarine sandwich” was not a real sub.
Samantha Cinderella ScottSamantha Cinderella Scott
was told she’d have to have a shot
The doctor said, “You’re somewhat sick;
I think a shot should do the trick.”
He said, “You shouldn’t feel a thing,
except perhaps a tiny sting,
a painless prick, a poke, a pinch.
It shouldn’t even make you flinch.
“You won’t begin to bleat or bawl.
I doubt that it will hurt at all.
I don’t expect to see it bruise
or swell your arm and start to ooze.
“There’s little chance of belly aches
or fevers, chills or sudden shakes.
It’s not supposed to cause a cough.
Your arm will likely not fall off.
“I’m guessing that there won’t be lots
of itchy red and purple spots.
Convulsions, too, are fairly rare.
I think you’ll get to keep your hair.
“In fact, the chance is nearly nil
that you’ll become intensely ill,
or grow a ghastly greenish hue,
or turn into a kangaroo.
“It’s nearly certain that you’ll not
become a fish or flowerpot.
I’m quite convinced it’s fair to say
you won’t turn into mush today.
“But if you start to shake and cough
or if your head should tumble off,
if you become a moose or mule
you’ll get a day away from school.”
Samantha Cinderella Scott
took just a moment, deep in thought,
then yawned the slightest little yawn,
and told the doctor “Bring it on!”
Sharpen, Sharpen, Sharpen
Sharpen, sharpen, sharpen.
I crank the handle fast.
Sharpen, sharpen, sharpen.
Until it’s sharp at last.
Scribble, scribble, scribble.
Hey wait! It still won’t write.
Sharpen, sharpen, sharpen.
I crank with all my might.
Sharpen, sharpen, sharpen.
It must be done, I guess.
Scribble, scribble, dribble.
Oh goodness, what a mess!
Darn it, darn it, darn it.
I guess I’ll start again.
Teacher! Teacher! Teacher!
I need another pen.