The first time I read “Where The Sidewalk Ends”, I was around 12 years old and I loved it. Over the years I have read and re-read it several times, or at least parts of it – the love affair has never ended.

Silverstein’s poetry style is his own: laid-back and conversational, filled with humor and wit, occasionally employing slang. His  simple pen-and-ink drawings are clever and charming.

Although I absolutely love all Silverstein’s  poems in, “Where The Sidewalk Ends”, below are two of my favorites. The first, “Smart” because it reminds me of today’s world and it’s incapacity to understand the true value of what one has. And “Sick”, well you will see why – don’t we all just want to play once  and awhile, leaving the pressures of life behind us.

Smart

My dad gave me one dollar bill
‘Cause I’m his smartest son,
And I swapped it for two shiny quarters
‘Cause two is more than one!

And then I took the quarters
And traded them to Lou
For three dimes-I guess he don’t know
that three is more than two!

Just then, along came old blind Bates
And just ’cause he can’t see
He gave me four nickels for my three dimes,
And four is more than three!

And I took the nickels to Hiram Coombs
Down at the seed-feed store,
and the fool gave me five pennies for them,
And five is more than four!

And then I went and showed my dad,
and he go red in the cheeks
And closed his eyes and shook his head-
Too proud of me to speak!

Sick

‘I cannot go to school today, ‘
Said little Peggy Ann McKay.
‘I have the measles and the mumps,
A gash, a rash and purple bumps.
My mouth is wet, my throat is dry,
I’m going blind in my right eye.
My tonsils are as big as rocks,
I’ve counted sixteen chicken pox
And there’s one more-that’s seventeen,
And don’t you think my face looks green?
My leg is cut-my eyes are blue-
It might be instamatic flu.
I cough and sneeze and gasp and choke,
I’m sure that my left leg is broke-
My hip hurts when I move my chin,
My belly button’s caving in,
My back is wrenched, my ankle’s sprained,
My ‘pendix pains each time it rains.
My nose is cold, my toes are numb.
I have a sliver in my thumb.
My neck is stiff, my voice is weak,
I hardly whisper when I speak.
My tongue is filling up my mouth,
I think my hair is falling out.
My elbow’s bent, my spine ain’t straight,
My temperature is one-o-eight.
My brain is shrunk, I cannot hear,
There is a hole inside my ear.
I have a hangnail, and my heart is-what?
What’s that? What’s that you say?
You say today is…Saturday?
G’bye, I’m going out to play! ‘

“Where The Sidewalk Ends” is ice-cream for the senses and a literary treat for all ages. I highly recommend it!

- Christine Korda

Read more poems from “Where The Sidewalk Ends”

Shel Silverstein’s Official Site