1 Minute with The Bald-Headed Poet
An Epicurean's dream: Feast your eyes on this! A poetry show that never existed, bringing you motivation and inspiration in minutes; this isn’t your average poetry experience! Meaty phrases, gritty sayings, impactful poems, insightful rhymes, meaningful paeans and provocative pieces that sound like rap lyrics. Lines that are worth gold: “Poetry is good for the soul,” plus stay tuned to hear a scripture verse. Coming to you every Friday to share a quick speech, don’t skip a beat, please spend one minute with me. Lend me your ear gate, and I promise to make you feel great, or else you can leave the scene. Grace and peace. xoxo
1 Minute with The Bald-Headed Poet
Sick - Shel Silverstein
Use Left/Right to seek, Home/End to jump to start or end. Hold shift to jump forward or backward.
Sick 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!”
Poems are green and Poetry is mean.
-Poetry Beast
Please accept my endless gratitude,
I'm tickled pink,
You're a gift!
Thank you for your time and attention.
It's a blessing you've stopped to observe and listen.
ADDITIONAL INFO: @thebaldheadedpoet | Linktree
Sick by Shell 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 16 chicken pox. And there's one more. That's 17. And don't you think my face looks green? My leg is cut. My eyes are blue. It might be a stematic 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 buttons caving in. My back is wrenched. My ankles sprained. My appendix pains each time it rains. My nose is cold. My toes are numb. I have a silver 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 elbows bent, my spine ain't straight. My temperature is 108. 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? Goodbye. I'm going out to play.