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Best Famous Shel Silverstein Poems

Here is a collection of the all-time best famous Shel Silverstein poems. This is a select list of the best famous Shel Silverstein poetry. Reading, writing, and enjoying famous Shel Silverstein poetry (as well as classical and contemporary poems) is a great past time. These top poems are the best examples of shel silverstein poems.

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by Shel Silverstein | |

Bear In There

 There's a Polar Bear
In our Frigidaire--
He likes it 'cause it's cold in there.
With his seat in the meat And his face in the fish And his big hairy paws In the buttery dish, He's nibbling the noodles, He's munching the rice, He's slurping the soda, He's licking the ice.
And he lets out a roar If you open the door.
And it gives me a scare To know he's in there-- That Polary Bear In our Fridgitydaire.


by Shel Silverstein | |

Picture Puzzle Piece

 One picture puzzle piece
Lyin' on the sidewalk,
One picture puzzle piece
Soakin' in the rain.
It might be a button of blue On the coat of the woman Who lived in a shoe.
It might be a magical bean, Or a fold in the red Velvet robe of a queen.
It might be the one little bite Of the apple her stepmother Gave to Snow White.
It might be the veil of a bride Or a bottle with some evil genie inside.
It might be a small tuft of hair On the big bouncy belly Of Bobo the Bear.
It might be a bit of the cloak Of the Witch of the West As she melted to smoke.
It might be a shadowy trace Of a tear that runs down an angel's face.
Nothing has more possibilities Than one old wet picture puzzle piece.


by Shel Silverstein | |

Danny ODare

 Danny O'Dare, the dancin' bear,
Ran away from the County Fair,
Ran right up to my back stair
And thought he'd do some dancin' there.
He started jumpin' and skippin' and kickin', He did a dance called the Funky Chicken, He did the Polka, he did the Twist, He bent himself into a pretzel like this.
He did the Dog and the Jitterbug, He did the Jerk and the Bunny Hug.
He did the Waltz and the Boogaloo, He did the Hokey-Pokey too.
He did the Bop and the Mashed Potata, He did the Split and the See Ya Later.
And now he's down upon one knee, Bowin' oh so charmingly, And winkin' and smilin'--it's easy to see Danny O'Dare wants to dance with me.


by Shel Silverstein | |

Messy Room

 Whosever room this is should be ashamed!
His underwear is hanging on the lamp.
His raincoat is there in the overstuffed chair, And the chair is becoming quite mucky and damp.
His workbook is wedged in the window, His sweater's been thrown on the floor.
His scarf and one ski are beneath the TV, And his pants have been carelessly hung on the door.
His books are all jammed in the closet, His vest has been left in the hall.
A lizard named Ed is asleep in his bed, And his smelly old sock has been stuck to the wall.
Whosever room this is should be ashamed! Donald or Robert or Willie or-- Huh? You say it's mine? Oh, dear, I knew it looked familiar!


by Shel Silverstein | |

Whatif

 Last night, while I lay thinking here,
some Whatifs crawled inside my ear
and pranced and partied all night long
and sang their same old Whatif song:
Whatif I'm dumb in school?
Whatif they've closed the swimming pool?
Whatif I get beat up?
Whatif there's poison in my cup?
Whatif I start to cry?
Whatif I get sick and die?
Whatif I flunk that test?
Whatif green hair grows on my chest?
Whatif nobody likes me?
Whatif a bolt of lightning strikes me?
Whatif I don't grow talle?
Whatif my head starts getting smaller?
Whatif the fish won't bite?
Whatif the wind tears up my kite?
Whatif they start a war?
Whatif my parents get divorced?
Whatif the bus is late?
Whatif my teeth don't grow in straight?
Whatif I tear my pants?
Whatif I never learn to dance?
Everything seems well, and then
the nighttime Whatifs strike again!


by Shel Silverstein | |

Its Dark in Here

 I am writing these poems
From inside a lion,
And it's rather dark in here.
So please excuse the handwriting Which may not be too clear.
But this afternoon by the lion's cage I'm afraid I got too near.
And I'm writing these lines From inside a lion, And it's rather dark in here.


by Shel Silverstein | |

One Inch Tall

 If you were only one inch tall, you'd ride a worm to school.
The teardrop of a crying ant would be your swimming pool.
A crumb of cake would be a feast And last you seven days at least, A flea would be a frightening beast If you were one inch tall.
If you were only one inch tall, you'd walk beneath the door, And it would take about a month to get down to the store.
A bit of fluff would be your bed, You'd swing upon a spider's thread, And wear a thimble on your head If you were one inch tall.
You'd surf across the kitchen sink upon a stick of gum.
You couldn't hug your mama, you'd just have to hug her thumb.
You'd run from people's feet in fright, To move a pen would take all night, (This poem took fourteen years to write-- 'Cause I'm just one inch tall).


by Shel Silverstein | |

The Little Boy and the Old Man

 Said the little boy, "Sometimes I drop my spoon.
" Said the old man, "I do that too.
" The little boy whispered, "I wet my pants.
" "I do that too," laughed the little old man.
Said the little boy, "I often cry.
" The old man nodded, "So do I.
" "But worst of all," said the boy, "it seems Grown-ups don't pay attention to me.
" And he felt the warmth of a wrinkled old hand.
"I know what you mean," said the little old man.


by Shel Silverstein | |

Anteater

 "A genuine anteater,"
The pet man told me dad.
Turned out, it was an aunt eater, And now my uncle's mad!


by Shel Silverstein | |

Gods Wheel

 GOD says to me with a kind 
of smile, "Hey how would you like 
to be God awhile And steer the world?"
"Okay," says I, "I'll give it a try.
Where do I set? How much do I get? What time is lunch? When can I quit?" "Gimme back that wheel," says GOD.
"I don't think you're quite ready YET.
"


by Shel Silverstein | |

The Meehoo with an Exactlywatt

 Knock knock!
Who's there?
Me!
Me who?

That's right!
What's right?
Meehoo!
That's what I want to know!

What's what you want to know?
Me, WHO?
Yes, exactly!
Exactly what?
Yes, I have an Exactlywatt on a chain!

Exactly what on a chain?
Yes!
Yes what?
No, Exactlywatt!

That's what I want to know!
I told you - Exactlywatt!
Exactly WHAT?
Yes!
Yes what?

Yes, it's with me!
What's with you?
Exactlywatt - that's what's with me.
Me who? Yes! GO AWAY! Knock knock.
.
.


by Shel Silverstein | |

Boa Constrictor

 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 .
.
.


by Shel Silverstein | |

Forgotten Language

 Once I spoke the language of the flowers,
Once I understood each word the caterpillar said,
Once I smiled in secret at the gossip of the starlings,
And shared a conversation with the housefly
in my bed.
Once I heard and answered all the questions of the crickets, And joined the crying of each falling dying flake of snow, Once I spoke the language of the flowers.
.
.
.
How did it go? How did it go?


by Shel Silverstein | |

Rain

 I opened my eyes
And looked up at the rain,
And it dripped in my head
And flowed into my brain,
And all that I hear as I lie in my bed
Is the slishity-slosh of the rain in my head.
I step very softly, I walk very slow, I can't do a handstand-- I might overflow, So pardon the wild crazy thing I just said-- I'm just not the same since there's rain in my head.


by Shel Silverstein | |

The Toucan

 Tell me who can
Catch a toucan?
Lou can.
Just how few can Ride the toucan? Two can.
What kind of goo can Stick you to the toucan? Glue can.
Who can write some More about the toucan? You can!


by Shel Silverstein | |

Weird-Bird

 Birds are flyin' south for winter.
Here's the Weird-Bird headin' north, Wings a-flappin', beak a-chatterin', Cold head bobbin' back 'n' forth.
He says, "It's not that I like ice Or freezin' winds and snowy ground.
It's just sometimes it's kind of nice To be the only bird in town.
"


by Shel Silverstein | |

Where the Sidewalk Ends

 There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.
Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow, And watch where the chalk-white arrows go To the place where the sidewalk ends.
Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow, And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go, For the children, they mark, and the children, they know The place where the sidewalk ends.