Wednesday, June 2, 2010

favorite poem.

When I was younger, elementary school-aged, many of my siblings and I would often enter our school's "Dramatic Reading" contest. Standing in front of an audience (sometimes large, especially if we made it to the regional contest) was so scary.
We would visit the library and scavenge for a really good poem. My mom and I always gravitated towards Mr.Shel Silverstein. She would always help me pick the right poem.
I would practice reading each word of a poem until I felt it was perfect. Memorizing it. My mom, especially, pushed us a bit to try harder ("you could look at your arm and pretend to see chicken pox!" she'd say) and I always liked that.
This was a contest that I really wanted to be in. Some of my brothers, however, didn't enjoy it as much. But I loved the feeling of being nervous at the contest, so anxious, then my turn would come and you could definitely sense my nervousness. And then something happened.. I would visibly feel more comfortable as I read each sentence of my chosen poem. I knew I was prepared.. I was genuinely having fun with it.
This particular poem below  was one that I read in 3rd grade and won. I won! To this day, it's still my favorite. Even James gets alot of giggles out while I read it to him.
There are still days where I feel just like Peggy Ann McKay.

by Shel Silverstein

"I cannot go to school today,"
Said little Peggy Ann McKay.
"I have the measles and the mumps,
A gash, a rash and purple bumps.
My mouth is wet, my throat is dry,
I'm going blind in my right eye.
My tonsils are as big as rocks,
I've counted sixteen chicken pox
And there's one more--that's seventeen,
And don't you think my face looks green?
My leg is cut--my eyes are blue--
It might be instamatic flu.
I cough and sneeze and gasp and choke,
I'm sure that my left leg is broke--
My hip hurts when I move my chin,
My belly button's caving in,
My back is wrenched, my ankle's sprained,
My 'pendix pains each time it rains.
My nose is cold, my toes are numb.
I have a sliver in my thumb.
My neck is stiff, my voice is weak,
I hardly whisper when I speak.
My tongue is filling up my mouth,
I think my hair is falling out.
My elbow's bent, my spine ain't straight,
My temperature is one-o-eight.
My brain is shrunk, I cannot hear,
There is a hole inside my ear.
I have a hangnail, and my heart is--what?
What's that? What's that you say?
You say today is. . .Saturday?
G'bye, I'm going out to play!"

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