Ickle was captain,
And Pickle was crew,
And Tickle served coffee and mulligan stew.
-- Shel Silverstein, "Ickle Me, Pickle Me, Tickle Me Too"
If, in my whole life, I can ever write anything half as good as Shel Silverstein's worst poem, I will have succeeded. His website has recordings of him reading some of them (I also had a tape of him reading from Where the Sidewalk Ends when I was little, and I used to play it on my red Panasonic tape player in the backseat of my parents' station wagon) and they're gorgeous. If it's still in circulation, I think I need to get that recording for my favorite two-year-old ASAP.
You -- well, I, at least -- don't just love these poems in that I-liked-it-when-I-was-a-kid-and-so-I-like-it-for-how-I-used-to-feel-about-it way, either. They're amazing to adults, just clever and skillful and actually really deep in their own ways.
That is all for now. Life continues unabated. I'm a little afraid of May, how busy it will be and how I will not be home for more than 4 days at a time for several weeks, and how the book will languish during that time. Ah well. I wish I had a flying shoe like Ickle's, but don't we all. Over the sun and beyond the blue.
1 comment:
Can I read the languishing book during that time? :)
And I love that you linked to that picture of Gaby. I love that face. And I'd appreciate some new listening material, Aunt Gwen, since she's been stuck in Sesame Street mode for over a month now. Every time she gets in the car. And no one is allowed to sing it with her. As we listen to Kermit over and over again.
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