by Bruce Lansky
CONTENTS
Acknowledgments
Introduction
Born Embarrassed
Bruce Lansky
God Gave Out Noses
Anonymous
Birthday Wish
Diane ZuHone Shore
Where My Clothes Are
Bruce Lansky
Self Centered
Anonymous
The Wrong Side of the Bed
Bruce Lansky
I Love You
Anonymous
A Valentine Poem
Eric Ode
Captain Soapsuds
Robert Scotellaro
Swimming Ool
Kenn Nesbitt
Dance Fever
Robert Scotellaro
The Skateboard
Willard R. Espy
We Went to New York City
Pat Dodds
The Sleepover
Betsy Franco
Before 9 a.m.
Joyce Armor
My Violin
Bruce Lansky
My Baby Brother
Bruce Lansky
What My Parents Should Know about My Sister
Bruce Lansky
What My Parents Should Know about My Brother
Bruce Lansky
My Brother
Luke Havumaki
Things I’m Going to Do to My Brother
Joyce Armor
Forgetful
Bruce Lansky
My Sister’s Always on the Phone
Bruce Lansky
School Rules
Bruce Lansky
Lunch Lines
Dave Crawley
The Field Trip
Eric Ode
Food Fight
Kenn Nesbitt
I Brought My Grandma’s Teeth to School
Robert Pottle
My Teacher Sees Right Through Me
Bruce Lansky
Oops!
Bruce Lansky
A Balanced Diet
Robert Scotellaro
An “Everything” Pizza
Linda J. Knaus
Big Mary
Bill Dodds
Powdered Sugar
Sydnie Meltzer Kleinhenz
Little Miss Muffet
Bruce Lansky
The Yuckiest Sandwich
Ellen Jackson
Table Manners
Joan Horton
Sound Off!
Susan D. Anderson
Strongest Team
Ted Scheu
Sprinkles
Anonymous
The Curse of the Foul-Smelling Armpit
Trevor Harvey
On a Swing
Ted Scheu
Clear As Mud
Bruce Lansky
Miss Veronica Blair
Linda J. Knaus
Jack Was Nimble
Bruce Lansky
Professor Von Shtoot’s Wacky Inventions
Helen Ksypka
My Doggy Ate My Homework
Dave Crawley
Yankee Doodle’s Turtle Ride
Bruce Lansky
Yankee Doodle on a Chicken
Bruce Lansky
One-Shoe Willy
Linda J. Knaus
Star Light, Star Bright
Bruce Lansky
Dinosaur Names
Holly Davis
My Family of Dinosaurs
Helen Ksypka
My New Pet
Bruce Lansky
Kangaroos
Kenn Nesbitt
Mary’s Smart Lamb
Ted Scheu
Old Hogan’s Goat
Anonymous
Hey, Ma, Something’s Under My Bed
Joan Horton
The Teachers’ Show*
Bruce Lansky
Empty Headed
Linda J. Knaus
My Thumbies
Bruce Lansky
The Tattered Billboard
Anonymous
Cousin Henrietta’s Growing Something On Her Face
Jerry Rosen
Credits
About Bruce Lansky
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
We would like to thank the following teachers and their students for helping us select the poems for this book:
Marcy Anderson, Dell Rapids Elementary; Mark Benthall, Lakeway Elementary; Kathy Budahl, L. B. Williams Elementary; Monica Chung, Edgewood School; Bonnie Cox, Kolmar School; Beth Davis, Hough Street School; Cheryl Esparza, Monroe Elementary; Linda Evans, Longfellow School; Nancie Gordon, Whispering Pines Elementary; Shirl Herzig, Groveland Elementary; Jane Hesslein, Sunset Hill Elementary; Kate Hooper, Pinewood Elementary; Craig Jackson, Withrow Elementary; Ann Johnson, Christa McAuliffe Elementary; Margaret Kelberer, St. Paul Academy and Summit School; Sharon Klein, Clardy Elementary; Barbara Knoss, Hanover School; Maggie Knutson, Orono Middle School; Dale Langer, Milton East Elementary; Carol Larson, Mississippi Elementary; Steve Muras, Gatewood Elementary; Elaine Nick, Gracemor Accelerated School; Tessie Oconer, Fulton Elementary; Connie Parrish, Gertie Bell Rodgers Elementary; Mitzi Pearlman, Acres Green Elementary; Mary Jane Savaiano, Clara Barton Open School; Louise Scholnick, Dr. Gilbert Porter Elementary; Timothy Tocher, George Grant Mason Elementary; Lynette Townsend, Lomarena Elementary; Cheryl Triefenbach, Lalumier School; Dr. Jory Westbury, Avalon Elementary; and Jean Wise, Lincoln Elementary.
INTRODUCTION
When my kids were in elementary school, I noticed that the poems they liked best were the ones they thought were funny. They’d read them over and over and over again—to anyone who would listen. That’s how I got the idea to collect the funniest poems by the funniest poets and put them in a single book.
But how was I going to figure out which poems were the funniest? I decided to test fifteen poems I liked on a fourth-grade class in the same school my kids had attended years before. The kids liked about half of the poems I’d selected. I couldn’t wait to test the next batch of poems on another class of students.
The poems those kids helped me select were published in Kids Pick the Funniest Poems, a book that was a hit from the moment it was published. Its success prompted me to publish 17 more hilarious poetry books, which have sold over 3.6 million copies.
In the process of testing poems, I discovered the ones that made kids laugh the most often contained a nugget of truth about parents, school, pets, or some other topic important to kids. That’s why this book is full of poems that deal with such topics as what really happens at slumber parties, messy bedrooms, gaining revenge on bratty brothers and snooping sisters, the latest fashions, white lies, junk food, and foul-smelling armpits.
I’ve teamed up with Stephen Carpenter, to illustrate these books, with the goal of making the illustrations as funny (or funnier) than the poems. People who’ve read this book say there’s a smile on every page. I hope you agree.
Born Embarrassed
My mom was born in England.
My dad was born in France.
And I was born embarrassed,
because I had no pants.
Bruce Lansky
God Gave Out Noses
When God gave out noses,
I thought He said, “Roses.”
So I asked for a big red one.
When He handed out legs,
I thought He said, “Kegs.”
So I asked for two big round ones.
When He gave out looks,
I thought He said, “Books.”
So I said I didn’t want any.
When He handed out brains,
I thought He said, “Trains.”
And I missed mine.
Anonymous
Birthday Wish
When I turned eight
I made a wish
I thought was really great.
I wished my birthday came each week—
a year’s too long to wait.
Be careful when you make a wish,
it may indeed come true.
Although I’m just in second grade
I’m almost forty-two!
Diane ZuHone Shore
Where My Clothes Are
Dirty clothes should be put in the hamper.
Clean clothes should be put in the drawer.
But it takes too much time and it takes too much work,
so I throw them all over the floor.
Bruce Lansky
Self Centered
I like myself. I think I’m grand.
I go to the movies and hold my hand.
I put my arms around my waist;
when I get fresh I slap my face.
Anonymous
The Wrong Side of the Bed
I’m looking in the mirror.
I don’t like what I see.
My eyes look tired and bloodshot.
This isn’t really me.
My socks are different colors.
My shirt is not tucked in.
My hair looks like a hurricane
from Cuba just blew in.
I’m feeling very grumpy.
I’m in a rotten mood.
I snapped at breakfast when Mom said
to get my own darned food.
When I get in a cranky state,
I wish that I could hide.
Mom says, “Go back to bed then
get up—on the other side.”
Bruce Lansky
I Love You!
I love you, I love you,
I love you, I do.
But don’t get excited,
I love monkeys, too!
Anonymous
A Valentine Poem
Bigfoot’s face is very scary.
Bigfoot’s feet are fat and hairy.
Bigfoot’s breath can blister paint.
Bigfoot’s all the things you ain’t.
Be my valentine.
Eric Ode
Captain Soapsuds
My name is Captain Soapsuds—
I rule the waters deep.
When serpents see me coming,
they shudder and they weep.
I’m Captain Suds the pirate,
a mighty ship I sail.
I love to feel the sea mist
and hear the cold wind wail.
I count my bags of treasure.
I make men walk the plank.
I wish I had more fingers
to count the ships I sank.
And if you choose to fight me,
I’ll crush you like a bug.
I’m Captain Suds the pirate
till Mommy pulls the plug.
Robert Scotellaro
Swimming Ool
Swimming in the swimming pool
is where I like to “B,”
wearing underwater goggles
so that I can “C.”
Yesterday, before I swam,
I drank a cup of “T.”
Now the pool’s a “swimming ool”
because I took a “P.”
Kenn Nesbitt
Dance Fever
Dad’s doing a rumba, Dad’s doing a waltz,
he’s doing a split on the floor.
He’s doing a cha-cha across our big couch—
he’s prancing right out of the door.
He’s doing a polka across the front yard.
He’s doing a fox trot, the twist.
He’s doing a samba, a tap-dance, ballet—
there isn’t a dance step he’s missed.
Our father’s not noted for moving so fast—
we never have known him to dance.
Yet he’s doing a tango, the hula, a jig
since I dropped ice down his pants.
Robert Scotellaro
The Skateboard
My Daddy has bought me a skateboard;
he tried it out first at the store.
And that is the reason why Mommy
says Daddy can’t walk any more.
Willard R. Espy
We Went to New York City
We went to New York City,
but we never saw Times Square.
We just saw Uncle Henry
and played lots of solitaire.
We drove up to Niagara,
but we never saw the Falls.
We stayed in Cousin Ernie’s house.
I almost climbed the walls!
We traveled down to Florida
to see our Auntie Sue.
We never went to Disney World
like other people do.
We drove to Arizona
just to see Great-Grandpa Clark.
I wish we’d had the time to see
Grand Canyon National Park.
And then we took a little trip
to Washington DC.
We didn’t see the White House
’cause we stayed with Aunt Marie.
We even went to California
several years ago.
We never got to Hollywood,
but we saw Grandma Flo.
So why’d we stay with relatives
no matter where we went?
It’s ’cause my daddy is so cheap—
he will not spend a cent.
Pat Dodds
The Sleepover
My dad approved an overnight.
I promised we would sleep—
that after ten o’clock at night,
he wouldn’t hear a peep.
My friends came over to the house.
They brought their sleeping stuff.
We played full-contact football
till it got a little rough.
We watched some scary movies,
and we had a pillow fight.
We ate too many brownies,
then we joked and teased all night.
My groggy dad came in the room
at three, or was it four?
He found us throwing popcorn—
we were wrestling on the floor.
The promise that I made him
was impossible to keep.
At any decent sleepover,
the point is not to sleep!
Betsy Franco
Before 9 A.M.
I brushed my teeth
(and my chin too).
I combed the dog
and tied one shoe.
I hit my brother
(not too hard)
and colored Daddy’s
credit card.
I watched cartoons
and wet my clothes.
Then ate some breakfast:
Oreos.
I built a Lego
centipede,
I washed my Frisbee,
tried to read.
I counted marbles,
played my drum.
I climbed the bookshelf,
sucked my thumb.
I hid a treasure,
drew a map.
Why does Mommy
need a nap?
Joyce Armor
My Violin
My mom brought home a violin
so I could learn to play.
She told me if I practiced hard
I’d play it well someday.
Without a single lesson,
I tried to play a song.
My fiddle squeaked, my fiddle squawked.
The notes came out all wrong.
My little brother fled the room.
Mom covered up her ears.
My puppy dog began to howl.
My sister was in tears.
My dad pulled out his wallet.
He handed me a ten.
He made me swear I’d never play
that violin again.
Bruce Lansky
My Baby Brother
My baby brother is so small,
h
e’s hardly even there at all.
The only way that I can find him
is by the smell he leaves behind him.
Bruce Lansky
What My Parents Should Know about My Sister
My sister isn’t nice to me,
unless she needs a favor—
in which case for one minute
she is on her best behavior.
When she has her friends over,
she never lets me play.
She whines until my mother says
I have to go away.
I want our parents both to know
my sister makes me sore.
I hope that they will understand
I do not want one more.
Bruce Lansky
What My Parents Should Know about My Brother
He wakes me in the morning.
He keeps me up at night.
He messes up my bedroom,
then starts a pillow fight.
He grabs the channel changer,
and will not give it back—
then tattles to our parents
when I give him a smack.
He blows straw wrappers at me
when we’re in a restaurant.
And buys dumb birthday presents
that I would never want.
I want my parents both to know
my brother makes me sore.
I hope that they will understand
I do not want one more.
Bruce Lansky
My Brother
I want to push my brother in a vat of slimy goo.
Or send him in a crate by U.P.S. to Timbuktu.
Perhaps I could squirt super glue upon his dinner seat.
Or maybe fill his shoes up with fast-drying wet concrete.
Now please don’t get me wrong, I really love my brother, Scooter.
But I never ever get a chance to play on our computer.
Luke Havumaki
Things I’m Going to Do to My Brother
First I’m going to tie his shoes
in sixty dozen knots.
Then I’m going to fill his bed
with rotten apricots.
