Nothing to Do
Boredom
Boring
By Myself
Pick Up Your Room
Drink up your milk, she says to me,
And when she says at eight o'clock,
Amanda
Geography
Motor Cars
Cameleon
A Silly Young Fellow Named Ben
My Friend
The Dog
Chums
My Dog
Dumb Dog
English Is a Pain! (Pane?)
So Long As There's Weather
Weather
A Flea and a Fly in a Flue
The Summer Storm
April Rain Song
I Thought A Thought
The Thinker
And My Heart Soars
Jamaica Market
Nothing to do?
Nothing to do?
Put some mustard in your shoe,
Fill your pockets full of soot,
Drive a nail into your foot,
Put some sugar in your hair,
Place your toys upon the stair,
Smear some jelly on the latch,
Eat some mud and strike a match,
Draw a picture on the wall,
Roll some marbles down the hall,
Pour some ink in daddy's cap - -
Now go upstairs and take a nap.
Oh dear! what shall I do?
Nothing lasts more than a minute or two,
Everything’s silly, and nothing is fun,
And there doesn’t seem anything left to be done.
Oh, dear! what shall I do?
I've read all my fairy-tales seven time through,
I'm tired of my bricks and I'm sick of my train,
And my paint-box was left out all night in the rain.
Oh, dear! what shall I do?
I don't want to go in the garden with you,
I don't want to sit down and play a nice game,
I want to do something that isn't the same.
Everything, everything is such a bore!
I don't enjoy being alive any more.
Why can't there sometimes be something that's new?
Oh dear! what shall I DO?
By the time that August ended
I was feeling sort of blue.
I was bored with skates and Frisbees,
climbing trees was boring too.
I was sick of running races,
throwing any sort of ball,
there simply wasn't anything
I cared to do at all.
It was boring, boring, boring
just to hear my parents say,
"Turn off the television, please,
and go outside and play."
I was glad to see September,
when vacation finally ends,
and glad to be back here again
in class with all my friends.
When I'm by myself
And I close my eyes
I'm a twin
I'm a dimple in a chin
I'm a room full of toys
I'm a squeaky noise
I'm a gospel song
I'm a gong
I'm a leaf turning red
I'm a loaf of brown bread
I'm a whatever I want to be
And anything I care to be
And when I open my eyes
What I care to be
Is me
Pick up your room, my mother says
(she says it every day);
my room's too heavy to pick up
(that's what I always say).
don't bubble like a clown;
of course she knows I'll answer that
I'd rather drink it down.
you must go right to bed,
we both repeat my answer:
why not go left instead?
Don't bite your nails, Amanda!
Don't hunch your shoulders, Amanda!
Stop that slouching and sit up straight,
Amanda!
(There is a languid, emerald sea,
where the sole inhabitant is me - -
a mermaid drifting blissfully.)
Did you finish your homework, Amanda?
Did you tidy your room, Amanda?
I thought I told you to clean your shoes,
Amanda!
(I am an orphan, roaming the street,
I pattern soft dust with my hushed, bare feet.
The silence is golden, the freedom is sweet.)
Don't eat that chocolate, Amanda!
Remember your acne, Amanda!
Will you please look at me when I'm speaking to you,
Amanda!
(I am Rapunzel, I have not a care;
life in a tower is tranquil and rare;
I'll certainly never let down my bright hair!)
Stop that sulking at one, Amanda!
You're always so moody, Amanda!
Anyone would think that I nagged at you,
Amanda!
Islands and peninsulas, continents and capes,
Dromedaries, cassowaries, elephants and apes,
Rivers, lakes and waterfalls, whirlpools and the sea,
Valley-beds and mountain-tops - - are all Geography!
The capitals of Europe with so many curious names,
The North Pole and the South Pole and Vesuvius in flames,
Rice-fields, ice-fields, cotton-fields, fields of maize and tea,
The Equator and the Hemispheres - - are all Geography!
The very streets I live in, and the meadows where I play,
Are just as much Geography as countries far away,
Where yellow girls and coffee boys are learning about me
One little white-skinned stranger who is in Geography!
From city window, 'way up high,
I like to watch the cars go by.
They look like burnished beetles, black,
That leave a little muddy track
Behind them as they slowly crawl.
Sometimes they do not move at all
But huddle close with hum and drone
As thought they feared to be alone.
They grope their way through fog and night
With the golden feelers of their light.
I can think sharply
and I can change:
my colours cover a considerable range.
I can be some mud by
an estuary.
I can be a patch on the bark of a tree.
I can be green grass
or a little thin stone
- or if I really want to be left alone,
I can be a shadow . . .
What I am on your
multi-coloured bedspread, I am not quite sure.
A silly young fellow named Ben
Swallowed his wrist watch, and then
He coughed up the date
April first, twenty seconds past ten.
And the time on his plate - -
my friend is
like bark
rounding a tree
he warms
like sun
on a windy day
he cools
like water
in the hot noon
his voice
is ready as a spring bird
he is
my friend
and I
am his
Which pet is most beloved by man?
The cat? The horse? The ortolan?
The chimpanzee? The winsome hog?
Not on your life! It is the dog.
At certain tasks the dog excels,
Like pulling babies out of wells
And finding traveliers in the snow
And fetching things that people throw.
What energy the dog expends
In welcoming your foes and friends!
A noble beast when at his best!
At other times, alas, a pest.
He sits and begs, he gives a paw.
He is, as you can see,
The finest dog you ever saw,
And he belongs to me.
He follows everywhere I go
And even when I swim.
I laugh because he thinks, you know,
That I belong to him.
But still, no matter what we do
We never have a fuss;
And so, I guess, it must be true
That we belong to us.
My dog is such a gentle soul,
although he's big it's true.
He brings the paper in his mouth.
He brings the postman too.
I have a dog - -
he's real, real dumb,
so when you call,
he will not come.
A stick I toss
he will not catch;
he scratches fleas
when I say "Fetch!"
The Daily News
he never brings;
he much prefers
the neighbor's things.
When he smells bad,
we soap him up;
he quickly rolls
in stinky stuff.
He chews my shoes,
then wags his tail
he should be put
in doggie jail!
"Your nose is running," Mother said.
I answered, "Wow! That's really neat!"
"Why's that?" she asked. I said, "Because
I never knew my nose had feet!"
Rain, reign, rein,
English is a pain.
Although the words
sound just alike,
the spelling's not the same!
Bee, be, B,
I'd rather climb a tree,
than learn to spell
the same old word,
not just one way, but three!
Sight, site, cite,
I try with all my might.
No matter which
I finally choose,
it's not the one that's right!
There, their, they're,
enough to make you swear.
Too many ways
to write one sound,
I just don't think it's fair!
To, two, too,
so what's a kid to do?
I think I'll go
to live on Mars,
and leave this mess with ewe! (you?)
Whether it's cold
or
whether it's hot,
I'd rather
have weather
whether or not
it's just what I'd choose.
Summer
or
Spring
or
Winter
or
Fall - -
any weather
is better
than
no weather
at all.
I really like weather.
I never feel
whiney
when weather is
rainy.
And when it's
sunshiny
I don't feel
complainy.
Weather sends me.
So - -
Rain?
Let it SPLASH!
Thunder?
CRRRASH!
Hail?
Clitter-clatter!
What does it
matter - -
so long as there's weather!
Dot a dot dot . . dot a dot dot
Spotting the windowpane.
Spack a spack speck . . flick a flack fleck
Freckling the windowpane.
A spatter a scatter . . a wet cat a clatter
A splatter a rumble outside.
Umbrella umbrella umbrella umbrella
Bumbershoot barrel of rain.
Slosh a galosh . . slosh a galosh
Slither and slather a glide
A puddle a jump a puddle a jump
A puddle a jump puddle splosh
A juddle a pump aluddle a dump a
Puddmuddle jump in and slide!
A flea and a fly in a flue
Were imprisoned, so what could they do?
Said the fly, "Let us flee."
Said the flea, "Let us fly."
So they flew through a flaw in the flue.
The summer storm comes
Bolting white lightning; It goes
Muttering thunder.
Let the rain kiss you.
Let the rain beat upon your head with silver liquid drops.
Let the rain sing you a lullaby.
The rain makes still pools on the sidewalk.
The rain makes running pools in the gutter.
The rain plays a little sleep-song on our roof at night - -
And I love the rain.
I thought a thought.
But the thought I thought wasn't the though I thought I thought.
If the thought I thought I thought had been the thought
I thought,
I wouldn't have thought so much.
There was a young fellow who thought
Very little, but thought it a lot.
Then at long last he knew
But before he could start, he forgot.
What he wanted to do
The beauty of the trees,
the softness of the air,
the fragrance of the grass,
speaks to me.
The summit of the mountain,
the thunder of the sky,
the rhythm of the sea,
speaks to me.
The faintness of the stars,
the freshness of the morning,
the dew drop on the flower,
speaks to me.
The strength of fire,
the taste of salmon,
the trail of the sun,
And the life that never goes away,
They speak to me.
And my heart soars.
Honey, pepper, leaf-green limes
Pagan fruit whose names are rhymes,
Mangoes, breadfruit, ginger-roots,
Granadillas, bamboo shoots.
Cho-cho, ackees, tangerines,
Lemons, purple Congo-beans,
Sugar, okras, kola-nuts,
Citrons, hairy cocoanuts,
Fish, tobacco, native hats,
Gold bananas, woven mats,
Plantains, wild-thyme, pallid leeks,
Pigeons with their scarlet beaks,
Oranges and saffron yams,
Baskets, ruby guava jams,
Turtles, goat-skins, cinnamon,
Allspice, conch-shells, golden rum.
Black skins, babel - - and the sun
That burns all colors into one.
Last modified: March 3, 2017.
* The poems listed on this webpage were gathered for classroom thematic connections by educators in the learning environment. They are the intellectual property of the authors.