Where does the good go

Poetry Wednesday

Nothing heavy this week.
It’s spring! *Does a little dance*

Boa Constrictor
Shel Silverstein

Oh, I’m being eaten
By a boa constrictor,
A boa constrictor,
A boa constrictor,
I’m being eaten by a boa constrictor,
And I don’t like it–one bit.
Well, what do you know?
It’s nibblin’ my toe.
Oh, gee,
It’s up to my knee.
Oh my,
It’s up to my thigh.
Oh, fiddle,
It’s up to my middle.
Oh, heck,
It’s up to my neck.
Oh, dread,
It’s upmmmmmmmmmmffffffffff . . .

8 Responses to “Poetry Wednesday”

  1. Angela Says:

    Weird that you posted this because I have a second hand copy of Where the Sidewalk Ends and have been thinking up an art project using the pages from it. Just this morning I had the urge to get it out and start work on the project.

    You posting this is like a message from the Universe: Hey, Dumbass Angela, get off your lazy ass and do something creative.

    So thanks Universe, and Dawn, and Shel Silverstein.

  2. Dawn Summers Says:

    hahahaha You’re welcome. From Dawn. Shel is dead and the Universe is still sleeping.

  3. Pdov Says:

    My English teacher once argued that Shel Silverstein does not write poetry, but just rhyme. I’m ambivalent on the matter. I do like his books.

  4. Dawn Summers Says:

    Your English teacher does not teach. He just says stuff.

  5. Mary Says:

    Does this poem somehow relate to the photo of baby Wygant?

  6. Dawn Summers Says:

    He IS a Cannibal baby!

  7. Mary Says:

    Umm…I was thinking more of a snake swallowing a baby, not the other way around.

  8. Dawn Summers Says:

    Yeah, I know. But Wygant don’t play that.

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