As a child, I read. And read and read. I remembered a collection of poems as a kid and my favorite poet was Shel Silverstein. His style and slang of writing was always something I held dearly. Quite at a young age, I would always underline his short poems because they were always unique and creative. I thank my parents for letting me read rather than plopped me in front of the TV 24/7.
Whatif by Shel Silverstein
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!
Bless Shel's heart (Sept. 25, 1930-May 10, 1999) and writing, he's definitely influenced me somehow whether I remember or not. I am quite the quirky female.
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