I’m feeling sick and getting worse.
I think I’d better see the nurse.
I’m sure I should go home today.
It could be fatal if I stay.
I’m nauseated, nearly ill.
I have a fever and a chill.
I have a cold. I have the flu.
I’m turning green and pink and blue.
I have the sweats. I have the shakes,
a stuffy nose, and bellyaches.
My knees are weak. My vision’s blurred.
My throat is sore. My voice is slurred.
I’m strewn with head lice, ticks, and mites.
I’m covered in mosquito bites.
I have a cough, a creak, a croak,
a reddish rash from poison oak,
a feeble head, a weakened heart.
I may just faint or fall apart.
I sprained my ankle, stubbed my toes,
and soon I’ll start to decompose.
And one more thing I have today
that makes me have to go away.
It’s just as bad as all the rest:
I also have a science test.
My phone must be
a lonely phone.
It often does things
on its own.
It likes to blink
and buzz and beep
to wake me up
when I’m asleep.
I sometimes find
it’s made a call
without me touching
it at all.
If it gets bored,
before too long,
it might decide
to play a song,
or maybe shoot
a video,
or send a tweet,
or watch a show,
or play a game,
or send a text.
I never know
what’s coming next.
Today I left
my phone at home.
While I was gone
it wrote this poem.
I tried to find a dinosaur.
I started in my yard.
I dug and dug for days and days.
The work was long and hard.
I dug through dirt and mud and muck.
I dug through rocks and soil.
My arms grew sore. My legs grew weak
from all the sweat and toil.
I shoveled tons of gravel out.
I moved a bunch of stones,
until, at last, to my surprise,
I found some fossil bones.
I put the bones together in
my bedroom on the floor.
When I was done, those bones had formed
a half a dinosaur.
My parents weren’t too happy when
I told them of my goal.
I found a half a dinosaur,
but then they found the hole.
I made myself a sandwich,
just the other day.
I never should have done it,
for now I’m stuck this way.
My mirror likes to argue.
He likes to fight and feud.
He often disagrees with me.
He’s regularly rude.
He’s fond of making faces.
He loves to sneer and scowl.
And, if I scream and shout at him,
he’ll holler, hoot, and howl.
I wish I’d never met him.
I wish he’d go away.
I wish I didn’t chance upon him
several times a day.
I think perhaps the next time
he starts to disagree,
I’ll smile at him to see if maybe
he’ll be nice to me.
My ugly pug’s a snuggly pug.
He likes to snuggle on the rug.
He such a huggy cuddle-bug.
He snuggles all day long.
But though my pug’s a cuddle-bug
who likes to nuzzle up and hug,
my pug is still an ugly pug.
His yucky mug is wrong.
My dog’s name is “Cat”
and my cat’s name is “Dog.”
My frog’s name is “Mouse”
and my mouse is called “Frog.”
My bird’s name is “Fish”
and my fish is called “Bird.”
I know that you probably
think that’s absurd.
It’s just a tradition
my family has had.
My dad’s name is “Mom”
and my mom’s name is “Dad.”
My brother’s a bother.
My mother and father
say, “Don’t bother him
and he won’t bother you.”
But bugging my brother,
one way or another,
is one of the things that
I most like to do.
I like to annoy him.
I really enjoy him
whenever he’s yelling,
“You’re being a pest!”
My father and mother
say, “Don’t bug your brother!”
But bugging my brother
is what I do best.
It’s really exciting
whenever we’re fighting.
It’s awesome to argue
and never agree.
But I’ll have to quit it.
I hate to admit it,
but maybe the bothersome
brother is me.
It’s after Thanksgiving.
I’m full as can be.
I haven’t got room left
for even a pea.
I probably gobbled
too much at our feast.
I’m straining in pain and
my waistline’s increased.
I’m utterly glutted.
My stomach is stuffed.
My belly is bulging.
My tummy is puffed.
I’m totally bloated.
I’m huffing and puffing.
I guess it’s not smart to eat
nothing but stuffing.
I’m Frank, the friendly alien.
From deepest outer space.
My face is fairly friendly.
It’s such a friendly face.
My teeth are sharp and pointed.
My eyes are big and red.
I have such friendly features
upon my friendly head.
My horns are green and shiny.
I have exactly three.
My nose is long and crooked,
the way a nose should be.
My ears are huge and scaly.
My tongue is brown and blue.
The people from my planet
all look friendly like I do.
My claws are shaped like daggers.
My hands are huge and hairy
I’d love to stay and tell you more
but you look much too scary.
Sick Day
Lonely Phone
I Tried to Find a Dinosaur
I Made Myself a Sandwich
My Mirror Likes to Argue
My Ugly Pug
My Dog’s Name Is “Cat”
My Brother’s a Bother
After Thanksgiving
Frank the Friendly Alien
