There’s an echo, echo, echo,
in my room, my room today.
It’s an echo that I wish,
I wish, I wish would go away.
It’s a problem, it’s a problem,
for no matter what I do,
if I make a sound, a sound,
the echo, echo makes it too.
When this echo, echo, echo,
started, started yesterday,
I was not amused, was not amused.
It’s not okay, okay.
Now I must be silent, silent.
I’m afraid, afraid to speak.
If I’m talking, if I’m talking,
it might last, might last all week.
It’s annoying, but it seems, it seems,
it’s here, it’s here to stay.
It’s my parrot, it’s my parrot
saying everything I say.
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.
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 just eats candy
and my sister just eats cakes.
The only thing my mother likes
are double-chocolate shakes.
My dad devours danishes
and donuts by the dozen.
My aunt and uncle live on pie
exactly like my cousin.
My grandpa and my grandma
just drink soda pop and punch.
My nephew and my niece
eat cookies every day for lunch.
And me, I’ll dine on any kind
of sugar-covered treat.
My family isn’t healthy, but
we sure are awfully sweet.
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.
My brother ate my smartphone.
Although it might sound strange,
he swallowed it and, bit by bit,
his brains began to change.
He started getting smarter.
He grew so shrewd and wise.
And I could see that, suddenly,
a light was in his eyes.
He knew as much as Google.
His IQ was off the charts.
I’d never seen someone so keen,
with such astounding smarts.
He solved the toughest problems
with simplicity and ease,
and calculated answers
with unrivaled expertise.
It seems he’s now a genius,
a perfect brainiac.
But I don’t care, or think it’s fair.
I want my smartphone back.
I had a little problem.
It gave me quite a scare.
I looked into the mirror
and saw a pimple there.
That pimple was enormous
and growing on my nose,
both bigger than a button,
and redder than a rose.
I knew my friends would notice.
I thought that they would stare.
I figured they would laugh at me
to see that pimple there.
So that’s when I decided
I would give them a surprise.
I grabbed a pen and drew on it
two tiny little eyes.
I drew a nose, a mouth, two ears,
a mustache, and a beard,
to make my pimple obvious
and wonderful and weird.
My drawing was a winner
and a hit with every friend.
Now painting on our pimples
is the hottest fashion trend.
I’m lonely, so lonely.
I’m always alone.
I never get emails
or calls on my phone.
I sit by myself
in my room every day,
and wonder why nobody
wants to go play.
My classmates avoid me.
They never say, “hi.”
They don’t seem to know
I’m a wonderful guy.
And even the strangers
I see on the street
go out of their way
to make sure we don’t meet.
They jump and they run
to get out of my path.
I guess maybe this year
I’ll take my first bath.
I got some hot sauce in my eye.
It caused a painful tear.
I showed it to my mom and she said,
“That’s a bad eye, dear.”
When Grandma goes for gold in
The Olympic games this year,
She’ll laugh at her competitors
And make them quake with fear.
She’s ninety-nine years old
But, in athletics, she’s been blessed.
The trouble is she can’t decide
Which sport she plays the best.
She’s such an ace at archery.
She’s queen of the canoe.
She’s tough to top at taekwondo
And table tennis too.
She dominates the diving board.
She tromps the trampoline.
At lifting weights and wrestling
She’s the best you’ve ever seen.
She speeds across the swimming pool
To slake the summer heat.
On BMX and mountain bike
She simply can’t be beat.
She’s highest in the high jump,
And a champ at hammer throwing,
Magnificent in marathons,
Remarkable at rowing.
She beats the best at boxing.
At the pole vault she is peerless.
Her fencing is the finest;
She is positively fearless.
She’s masterful at basketball,
She truly rules the court,
And equally incredible
At every other sport.
But what we find astonishing
And something of a shocker
Is how she wins all contests
With her wheelchair and her walker.
An Echo in My Room
I Tried to Find a Dinosaur
My Dog’s Name Is “Cat”
My Brother Just Eats Candy
My Brother’s a Bother
My Brother Ate My Smartphone
Pimple Problem
I’m Lonely, So Lonely
I Got Some Hot Sauce in My Eye
Olympic Granny
