I like bubble gum.
I like bats.
I like baseballs
And cowboy hats.

I like mudcakes.
I like moles.
I like mountain bikes
And deep, dark holes.

I like tinker toys.
I like tag.
I like tadpoles
And greasy, dirty rags.

I like football.
I like fightin’.
I like fishin’,
Especially when they’re bitin’.

I like snakes.
And my backyard squirrel.
But it’s me I like the best
Cuz I am a girl!

From Poem Man



I’m told to be polite to my teacher.
And of course, to my principal, as well.
If I’m smart I’ll be polite to the policeman,
Or he just might put me in jail.

I ought to be polite to the doctor,
Cuz she’s gonna cure my flu.
And I better be polite to the lawyer,
In case I ever get sued.

The rule, I’m told, is to be polite
To all the grownups I see.
But my own rule is I’ll be as polite
As the grownups are to me.

From Poem Man




I don’t want to write bestsellers,
Or be president of this great land.
I don’t want to paint like Picasso,
Or sing in a rock and roll band.

I don’t want to star in the movies,
Or do anything that brings wealth or fame.
I don’t want to be an overpaid athlete
Of any professional game.

What I do want you might think is silly.
In fact, it might even make you giggle.
There’s only one thing in life I want. . .
And that’s to learn how to make my ears wiggle.


From Poem Man.

An Ode To A Happy Little Spider

(Or, A Song For A Sad, Unfortunate Fly)

The happy little spider
Climbs the brightly colored wall
To spin a bouncy little web
While the playful blue birds call

Spinning spinning spinning
While humming a happy, cheerful tune
He builds for his tomorrow
In the corner of the room

As the sleepy evening sun
Settles softly into bed
The happy little spider
Spins his final thread

Still humming his cheerful tune
And oh so happy with his feat
He inspects his silky work
To ensure it’s all complete

With the chirping of the crickets
And with the crescent moon in ebb
The happy little spider
Snuggles in his web

As his sleepy eyelids close
Right before his dreams begin
He says his evening prayers
With a happy, thankful grin

For he knows that come tomorrow
When he rises from his bed
His prayers will all be answered
And his belly will be fed