 Poetry: July 17, 2019 Issue [#9657] |
This week: Shel Silverstein Edited by: Stormy Lady  
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This is poetry from the minds and the hearts of poets on Writing.Com. The poems I am going to be exposing throughout this newsletter are ones that I have found to be, very visual, mood setting and uniquely done. Stormy Lady
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The Loser
By Shel Silverstein
Mama said I'd lose my head
if it wasn't fastened on.
Today I guess it wasn't
'cause while playing with my cousin
it fell off and rolled away
and now it's gone.
And I can't look for it
'cause my eyes are in it,
and I can't call to it
'cause my mouth is on it
(couldn't hear me anyway
'cause my ears are on it),
can't even think about it
'cause my brain is in it.
So I guess I'll sit down
on this rock
and rest for just a minute...
Picture Puzzle Piece
by Shel Silverstein
One picture puzzle piece
Lyin' on the sidewalk,
One picture puzzle piece
Soakin' in the rain.
It might be a button of blue
On the coat of the woman
Who lived in a shoe.
It might be a magical bean,
Or a fold in the red
Velvet robe of a queen.
It might be the one little bite
Of the apple her stepmother
Gave to Snow White.
It might be the veil of a bride
Or a bottle with some evil genie inside.
It might be a small tuft of hair
On the big bouncy belly
Of Bobo the Bear.
It might be a bit of the cloak
Of the Witch of the West
As she melted to smoke.
It might be a shadowy trace
Of a tear that runs down an angel's face.
Nothing has more possibilities
Than one old wet picture puzzle piece.
Shel Silverstein was born on September 25, 1930 in Chicago. There is very little written about Shel Silverstein’s childhood. His journey into poetry actually started out as a cartoonist in a military newspaper. He spent the war stationed in Japan and in Korea. While in Japan he started playing the guitar. Silverstein didn't start out wanting to write children's books. It wasn’t until after Silverstein left the army and met an editor that encouraged him to write for children. His first book The Giving Tree was published in 1964. Silverstein also wrote several songs, “A Boy Named Sue” and "25 Minutes To Go", both song by Johnny Cash. Also “The Cover of the Rolling Stone” for Dr. Hook.
On June 30, 1970, Silverstein’s daughter, Shoshanna was born. Shoshanna’s mother Susan died when Shoshanna was just five years old. Silverstein daughter then went to live with her aunt and uncle in Baltimore Maryland. Shoshanna died April 24,, 1982 at the age of 11. Silverstein had a second child, Matthew, born on November 10, 1983. Nothing more was written about his personal life.
Where the Sidewalk Ends, Silverstein's first collection of poems, was published in 1974. Fallowed by two more children’s books, A Light in the Attic in 1981, and Falling Up in 1996. Silverstein won a Grammy Award for Best Children’s Album, for Where the Sidewalk Ends – “recited, sung and shouted” by the author. He also wrote the song “Unicorn Song” for the Irish Rovers and “I’m Checking Out”, written for the film Postcards From the Edge.
Silverstein had a very successful career writing plays, song and children’s books. Sadly Silverstein is said to have suffered a fatal heart attack on May 8, 1999 at his home, in Key West, Florida. He was all alone. His body was said to be found by a housekeeper the following Monday.
One Inch Tall
by Shel Silverstein
If you were only one inch tall, you'd ride a worm to school.
The teardrop of a crying ant would be your swimming pool.
A crumb of cake would be a feast
And last you seven days at least,
A flea would be a frightening beast
If you were one inch tall.
If you were only one inch tall, you'd walk beneath the door,
And it would take about a month to get down to the store.
A bit of fluff would be your bed,
You'd swing upon a spider's thread,
And wear a thimble on your head
If you were one inch tall.
You'd surf across the kitchen sink upon a stick of gum.
You couldn't hug your mama, you'd just have to hug her thumb.
You'd run from people's feet in fright,
To move a pen would take all night,
(This poem took fourteen years to write--
'Cause I'm just one inch tall).
Where the Sidewalk Ends
by Shel Silverstein
There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.
Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.
Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends.
Thank you all!
Stormy Lady
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The winner of "Stormy's poetry newsletter & contest" [ASR] is:
We walked barefooted in the rain,
carrying our boots in our hands,
and laughing at the dangers
the puddles might conceal.
We were innocent,
living in a rubber duck world
with rainbows and unicorns,
hobbits and elves.
We were pirates,
sailing our paper boat
across the star filled waters
of alien oceans.
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