Monday, August 3, 2009

A Special Useless Gift

A friend of mine is in school to be a teacher, and she's working on a lesson with the "ch" sound and needed a poem. My sister suggested that she ask me for help. I thought I would share what I came up with, so that you, dear readers, can see just exactly how warped I am...

Here's the first one:
Chelsea and Charlie had planned a hot date
Chelsea just knew that she couldn't be late
So she tossed on a pair of her chunkiest shoes
And ran to a salon called Charlene Magoo's.

She chilled while she waited, for nearly an hour
Checking her temper took a great deal of power,
But finally Charlene Magoo said, "You there!"
And Chelsea jumped eagerly onto the chair.

"No time for a chop, I need to get on,
But could you create a classy chignon?"
Over and over Charlene chewed this request
"I know that they say the customer knows best..."

"But you see, Chelsea dear, I don't think I can
Make a chignon for your date with your man,
'Cause hon, it's the wrong style of 'do that you're pickin'
To go with your feathers. Girl, you are a chicken!"
My friend, Michelle, correctly thought that "chignon" was too hard a word for first graders, so she asked me (after much flattery) to try again, and I came up with this:
Chuck the Chubby Chimpanzee was yearning for a treat,
He dreamed of cheesy pizza, or a hunk of chewy meat.
A chocolate covered ice cream cone, a cheddar chicken stew,
His tummy started rumbling but his dreaming wasn't through.

He dreamed of cherry ice cream cones a dozen scoops or more
He ached for corny chowder or an artichoke or four.
He'd settle for some Cheerios or Frosted Lucky Charms,
For a pork chop and some applesauce our Chuck would take up arms.

If only he could be a bird, he'd fly across the seas,
To choose a moo goo gai pan from the wonderful Chinese.
If he could chug a milkshake or could chomp upon hot chili
This poem would be much shorter, and only half as silly.

But Chuck was a cheap chimpanzee, he had no food at home,
No money in his bank account, no charge cards of his own.
So Chuck cheated his pal Chelsea at a simple game of chance,
He took all of her money, bought imported chips from France.

Chelsea hollered, Chelsea cried, she beat upon his chest,
She choked and sputtered, "Sakes alive! I thought you were the best!"
Chelsea chided Chuck, he asked if he could make amends.
She said, "No Chuck, it isn't nice, to cheat your childhood friends!"

"Your heart is black as midnight, and your soul is in the lurch!
I think you'd better get yourself right down to First Chimp Church!"
Chuck chuckled, "I don't think I need to go to any chimpy chapel,
I'd rather stay here, eat these chips, and possibly an apple."

"I mean it, Chuck," cried Chelsea, "You can't just sit and chill,
When your soul is so in peril - you really make me ill!"
Chuck said, "Do you think I'm a chump? I beat you fair and square,
I won't choose to change just 'cause you make me go and say a prayer!"

So Chuck the Chubby Chimpanzee sat stoic in his chair
And refused to go to church with her so he could clear the air.
And Chelsea never gambled after that most fateful day,
And when Chuck came to talk to her, she told him "Go away!"

The moral of this story, I think is plain to see.
Never play for money against a crooked chimpanzee.
Everyone tells me I should write a book but seriously, seriously, who would read a book about chickens and chimps getting hairdos and playing cards?? If anyone knows of a publisher looking for seriously ridiculous poems (which heavily use the "ch" sound), please let me know.

Seuss already did it all. I probably picked it up from the thousands and thousands of times I made my mom read his books to me, actually.

I am most strange. You have been warned.

6 comments:

Michelle said...

The one about the chimp made me think of my favorite poem when I was little: Sarah Cynthia Sylvia Stout Would Not Take The Garbage Out! You rock and I definitely think you should write a book!

Jen said...

And your book deal is happening when?

mwiesjahn said...

Seriously, people love this stuff!! Get it published and you'll be the next Seuss or Shel Silverstein. It's a gift!

Heidi said...

You are not strange. I have the same bizarre poetry gene, especially with limericks and sonnets. Just a frustrated English major. Keep writing - you never know where it will lead you.

di said...

YOU are good! I think kids would LOVE your poems. They'd be a refreshing switch from Dr S. and more up to date, for sure.

Heather said...

Jeff Foxworthy has a book of kid's poems out called Dirt On My Shirt. Your stuff would fit right in, trust me.