Wayne the Stegosaurus
Meet the stegosaurus, Wayne.
He doesn’t have the biggest brain.
He’s long and heavy, wide and tall,
but has a brain that’s extra small.
He’s not the brightest dinosaur.
He thinks that one plus one is four.
He can’t remember up from down.
He thinks the sky is chocolate brown.
He wears his bow tie on his tail
and likes to eat the daily mail.
When playing hide-and-seek he tries
to hide by covering his eyes.
He thinks that black is really white.
He’s sure the sun comes out at night.
He thinks that water grows on trees
and when it’s hot he starts to freeze.
He’s happy when he’s feeling ill.
He likes to dance by standing still.
And when it’s time to go to bed,
he puts bananas on his head.
He thinks his name is Bob, not Wayne,
but that’s what happens when your brain
(although you’re big and brave and spiny)
is very, very, very tiny.
Today Is the Day
I’m happy to say that today is the day.
I’m super excited. I’m shouting, “Hooray!”
I woke up delighted and ready to go.
My mind is abuzz and my eyes are aglow.
There’s no doubt about it. It’s perfectly clear.
The time is upon us. The moment is here.
I’m eager and keen for the action to start,
and when it begins I’ll be playing my part.
I’ll jump in the bustle and I’ll give it my all.
I’m certain that soon I’ll be having a ball.
But where should I go now, and what should I do?
I’m hoping that someone will give me a clue.
I’m not sure what’s happening. All I can say
is yesterday’s gone, so today is the day.
My Invisible Dragon
I have an invisible dragon.
She’s such a remarkable flyer.
She soars through the sky on invisible wings
exhaling invisible fire.
My dragon is utterly silent.
She soundlessly swoops through the air.
Why, she could be flying beside you right now,
and you’d never know she was there.
And if you should reach out to pet her,
I don’t think you’d notice too much.
Her body is simply too airy and light
to sense her by means of a touch.
And just as you don’t see or hear her,
and just as she cannot be felt,
my dragon does not have an odor at all,
which means that she’ll never be smelt.
Although you may find this outlandish,
you just have to trust me, it’s true.
And, oh, by the way, did I mention I have
an invisible unicorn too?
My sleeves are too short
and my jeans are too tight.
My shirt is so small
that it doesn’t fit right.
My hat is too snug
and my socks all have holes.
My shoes are worn out
on the sides and the soles.
My mom says it’s time
to go shopping for more.
She wants me to get
some new clothes at the store.
She begs and cajoles,
but I simply say, “No.
I want to stay home.
I would rather not go.”
While new ones may fit
in the sleeves and the toes,
the old ones I have
are my favorite clothes.
I Didn’t Go Camping
I didn’t go camping.
I didn’t go hiking.
I didn’t go fishing.
I didn’t go biking.
I didn’t go play
on the slides at the park.
I didn’t watch shooting stars
way after dark.
I didn’t play baseball
or soccer outside.
I didn’t go on an
amusement park ride.
I didn’t throw Frisbees.
I didn’t fly kites,
or have any travels,
or see any sights.
I didn’t watch movies
with blockbuster crowds,
or lay on the front lawn
and look at the clouds.
I didn’t go swimming
at pools or beaches,
or visit an orchard
and pick a few peaches.
I didn’t become
a guitarist or drummer,
but, boy, I played plenty
of Minecraft this summer.
My Mother Said to Do My Chores
My mother said to do my chores,
to dust the shelves and mop the floors,
and wipe the walls and wind the clocks,
and scoop the kitty’s litter box,
and walk the dog and feed the fishes,
and wash and and dry the dirty dishes,
and clean my room and take a bath,
and read a book and do my math,
and pick up all my Lego blocks,
and put away my shoes and socks,
and hang my shirts and fold my pants,
and water all the potted plants,
and organize my toys and games,
and straighten up the picture frames,
and polish all the silverware,
and brush my teeth and comb my hair,
and rake the leaves and mow the lawn,
and on and on and on and on.
She said I’ll get to have some fun
as soon as all my chores are done.
With all the chores I have to do
until my mother says I’m through,
like study for an hour or two
the names of places in Peru,
and peel potatoes and stir the stew,
and fix a vase with crazy glue,
and practice tuba till I’m blue,
and scrub the tub and toilet too,
and sweep the chimney and the flue,
and wash the dog with pet shampoo,
and pick up piles of puppy poo…
It looks like I’ll be ninety three
before I get to watch TV.
The Teachers Jumped Out of the Windows
The teachers jumped out of the windows.
The principal ran for the door.
The nurse and librarian bolted.
They’re not coming back anymore.
The counselor, hollering madly,
escaped out the door of the gym.
The coach and custodian shouted
and ran out the door after him.
The lunch ladies threw up their ladles,
then fled from the kitchen in haste,
while all of the students looked puzzled
as staff members scurried and raced.
We’d never seen anything like it.
But, still, it was pretty darned cool
to see all the staff so excited
to leave on the last day of school.
Copyright © 2007 Kenn Nesbitt. All Rights Reserved.
From the book Revenge of the Lunch Ladies.