What children know (understand)

Children know laughter They know tears Children know peace They know chaos Children know acceptance They know rejection Children know joy They know pain Children know abundance They know lack Children know health They know illness Children know fulfillment They know emptiness Children know hope They know dismay Children know love They know hatred What they dont know is WHY!

My Pet Germs
I have a half a billion germs I keep as tiny pets. They're cute and clean and never mean and give me no regrets. They spend all day engaged in play upon my skin and hair. They're on my clothes, between my toes and in my underwear. They dance and shout and bounce about. They run and jump and slide. My epidermis teems with germs who party on my hide. I never fret about the pets inside my shirt and socks. I love them there but wonder where they keep their litter box?

--Kenn Nesbitt

Here is the House

Here is the house on the street in the town where the downstairs is up and the upstairs is down. The people who live here all stand on their heads. They sleep on the ceilings and can't reach their beds. The basement's the attic. The roof is the floor. They climb up a ladder to crawl through the door. Their pets run in circles because they're all dizzy. This house is confusing and everyone's busy. The downstairs is upstairs. The upstairs is down since twenty tornadoes blew into the town.

--Kenn Nesbitt

When Pigs Fly

I've heard it said that pigs will fly and someday soon they'll rule the sky. That may sound strange but, if it's right, I don't suppose they'll fly a kite. I'll bet, instead, they'll have to train so they can learn to fly a plane, or join the Navy where they'll get to learn to fly a fighter jet. Or or or or or or or or maybe they'll grow piggy wings, put on shoes with giant springs, fly in huge hot-air balloons, seaplanes with those big pontoons, biplanes like a flying ace, shuttles into outer space, rocket ships for trips to Mars, flying saucers to the stars.

However pigs decide to fly, as long as they are way up high

and busy buzzing all around instead of grunting on the ground, I think it's safe to say I'll love to see them soaring up above. I'm sure I won't be shocked or shaken. Still, I'll prob'ly miss the bacon.

--Kenn Nesbitt

My Penmanship is Pretty Bad

My My In it penmanship is pretty bad. printing's plainly awful. truth, my writing looks so sad ought to be unlawful.

I try but, still, I must confess my writing looks like scribbles. My pencil makes a painful mess. My ballpoint leaks and dribbles. My letters take up so much space they nearly can't be read. The ones that should be lowercase are capitals instead. My p's and q's and R's and b's are backward half the time. When letters look as bad as these it's probably a crime. My cursive's utter lack of style will make you want to curse. But, even so, I have to smile; my teacher's writing's worse.

--Kenn Nesbitt

Today I Had a Problem

Today I had a problem when I tried to make my bed. My blankets and my comforter got wrapped around my head. I went to fluff the pillows but the pillow cover tore, and feathers flew all over as I stumbled 'round the floor.

I accidentally grabbed the sheets and pulled them as I fell. I have to say, it seems my day's not starting off too well. I tripped upon a pillowcase and landed in a heap. Good grief! That's it! I'm staying here and going back to sleep!

--Kenn Nesbitt

Steve the Superhero

I'm Steve the Superhero and you simply won't believe the superpowers I possess by merely being Steve. My smile can crack a mirror and my breath can make you faint. And when I take my socks off it's been known to peel the paint. The power in my underarms can make a grown man cry. A single burp can make you want to crawl away and die. The bad guys know it's hopeless, so they all get up and leave whenever they get wind of me-the superhero Steve.

--Kenn Nesbitt

POEM : Cradle Song by William Blake

POEM : Sleep, sleep, beauty bright, Dreaming in the joys of night; Sleep, sleep; in thy sleep Little sorrows sit and weep. Sweet babe, in thy face

Soft desires I can trace, Secret joys and secret smiles, Little pretty infant wiles. As thy softest limbs I feel, Smiles as of the morning steal O'er thy cheek, and o'er thy breast Where thy little heart doth rest. O the cunning wiles that creep In thy little heart asleep! When thy little heart doth wake, Then the dreadful night shall break.