Hey!?!

Halloween is Nearly Here

Halloween is nearly here.
I've got my costume planned.
It's sure to be the most horrific
outfit in the land.

If you should see me coming
you may scream and hide your head.
My get-up will, I guarantee,
fill every heart with dread.

My costume may cause nightmares.
Yes, my mask may stop your heart.
You might just shriek and wet yourself,
then squeamishly depart.

And yet, I won't be dressing as
you might expect me to.
I will not be a vampire
or ghost that hollers "boo!"

I won't look like a werewolf
or a goblin or a ghoul,
or even like a slimy blob
of deadly, dripping drool.

I will not be a zombie
or some other horrid creature.
No, this year I'll be much, much worse...
I'm dressing as a teacher.
--Kenn Nesbitt
 
 
 
Falling Asleep in Class
by Kenn Nesbitt


I fell asleep in class today,
as I was awfully bored.
I laid my head upon my desk
and closed my eyes and snored.

I woke to find a piece of paper
sticking to my face.
I’d slobbered on my textbooks,
and my hair was a disgrace.

My clothes were badly rumpled,
and my eyes were glazed and red.
My binder left a three-ring
indentation in my head.

I slept through class, and probably
I would have slept some more,
except my students woke me
as they headed out the door.
 

 

Parent Teacher Conference

At the parent-teacher conference,
my father made a scene.
He scared my fifth-grade teacher,
with his mask from Halloween.

She showed him all my science grades
and said she was concerned,
but he just stuck his tongue out
when my teacher’s back was turned.

He drew a monster on the board
and claimed it was her twin.
He even shook her soda,
which expolded on her chin.

My angry teacher crossed her arms
and said, “This meeting’s done!
I now see where he gets it from—
you act just like your son!”

 
 
All My Great Excuses
 
 
I tripped and dropped my homework
in the soup my mom was cooking…
My brother flushed it down the toilet
when I wasn’t looking…

My mother ran my homework
through the washer and the dryer…
An airplane crashed into our house…
My homework caught on fire…

Tornadoes blew my notes away…
Volcanoes rocked our town…
My books were taken hostage
by an evil killer clown…

Some aliens abducted me…
I had a shark attack…
A pirate swiped my homework
and refused to give it back…

I worked on these excuses
so darned long my teacher said,
“I think you’ll find it’s easier
to do the work instead.”
 
- Kenn Nesbitt
 
 
 
Aliens Have Landed!
by Kenn Nesbitt


The aliens have landed!
It’s distressing, but they’re here.
They piloted their flying saucer
through our atmosphere.
They landed like a meteor
engulfed in smoke and flame.
Then out they climbed immersed in slime
and burbled as they came.

Their hands are greasy tentacles.
Their heads are weird machines.
Their bodies look like cauliflower
and smell like dead sardines.
Their blood is liquid helium.
Their eyes are made of granite.
Their breath exudes the stench of foods
from some unearthly planet.

And if you want to see these
sickly, unattractive creatures,
you’ll find them working in your school;
they all got jobs as teachers.

 
Confession
by Bruce Lansky


I have a brief confession
that I would like to make.
If I don’t get it off my chest
I’m sure my heart will break.
I didn’t do my reading.
I watched TV instead—
while munching cookies, cakes, and chips
and cinnamon raisin bread.

I didn’t wash the dishes.
I didn’t clean the mess.
Now there are roaches eating crumbs—
a million, more or less.

I didn’t turn the TV off.
I didn’t shut the light.
Just think of all the energy
I wasted through the night.

I feel so very guilty.
I did a lousy job.
I hope my students don’t find out
that I am such a slob.


 
 
 
 
 
 
Where do all the teachers go?

Where do all the teachers go
When its four o’clock?
Do they live in houses
And do they wash their socks?

Do they wear pajamas?
And do they watch TV?
And do they pick their noses
The same as you and me?

Do they live with other people
Have they mums and dads?
And were they ever children
And were they ever bad?

Did they ever, never spell right
Did they ever make mistakes?
Were they punished in the corner
If they pinched the chocolate flakes?

Did they ever lose their hymn books
Did they ever leave their greens?
Did they ever scribble on the desktop
Did they wear old dirty jeans?

I’ll follow one back home today
I’ll find out what they do
Then I’ll put it in a poem
That they can read to you.

- Peter Dixon

 

 
 
 
 
 

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