Showing posts with label Shel Silverstein. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Shel Silverstein. Show all posts

Tuesday, August 20, 2024

FROM THE ARCHIVES - THE STAR OF INDIA, SAN DIEGO - PIRATE JIM

 

Pirate Jim
~Shel Silverstein~

"Walk the plank!" says Pirate Jim
"But Captain Jim, I cannot swim."
"Then you must steer us through the gale."
"But Captain Jim, I cannot sail."
"Then down with the galley slaves you go."
"But Captain Jim, I cannot row."
"Then you must be the pirate's clerk."
"But Captain Jim, I cannot work."
"Then a pirate captain you must be."
Thank you Jim, says Captain me."


Looking through my old photos I found this from a trip we took to San Diego in 2010. There will be a post tomorrow of other photos taken next to the Star Of India.

Until then, Avast me Maties.
Yo-ho-ho and a Bottle of Rum!
Thanks for walking the plank with me.
Fair Winds and Following Seas!
Groan as you please.









Sunday, October 22, 2023

JOYFUL

 One of the most beautiful things in the world is to see a happy child, my humble opinion.




"While we try to teach our children about life,
Our children teach us what life is all about."

~Angela Schwindt ~




I saw this beautiful child in Virginia Beach many years ago, running to catch up with her parents who were waiting for her.  She was full of joy as she ran across the sand.  Normally I don’t share a child’s features on here, but this was taken over 14 years ago, so she would be a young adult and not recognizable now.  I was actually taking a photo of the ocean waves with my zoom lens when she ran across my view finder.  One of those lovely moments captured in time.  



Wednesday, June 7, 2023

A POEM...ONE FOR REFLECTION

This is Shel Silverstein's poem, The Giving Tree.  It was controversial in its day.  I found it quite moving and worthy of sharing.  Any thoughts?

 Once there was a tree...

and she loved a little boy.

And every day the boy would come

and he would gather her leaves

and make them into crowns

and play king of the forest.

He would climb up her trunk

and swing from her branches

and eat apples.

And they would play hide-and-go-seek.

And when he was tired,

he would sleep in her shade.

And the boy loved the tree...

very much.

And the tree was happy.

But time went by.

And the boy grew older.

And the tree was often alone.

Then one day the boy came to the tree

and the tree said, "Come, Boy, come and

climb up my trunk and swing from my

branches and eat apples and play in my

shade and be happy."

"I am too big to climb and play" said the boy.

"I want to buy things and have fun.

I want some money?"

"I'm sorry", said the tree, "but I

have no money.

I have only leaves and apples.

Take my apples, Boy, and sell them

in the city.  Then you will have money and

you will be happy."

And so the boy climbed up the 

tree and gathered her apples

And carried them away.

And the tree was happy.

But the boy stayed away for a long time...

and the tree was sad.

And then one day the boy came back

and the tree shook with joy

and she said, "Come, Boy, climb up my trunk

and swing from my branches and be happy."

"I am too busy to climb trees," said the boy.

"I want a house to keep me warm," he said.

"I want a wife and I want children,

and so I need a house.

Can you give me a house?"

"I have no house," said the tree.

"The forest is my house,

but you may cut off 

my branches and build a house.

Then you will be happy."

And so the boy cut off her branches

and carried them away

to build a house.

And the tree was happy.

But the boy stayed away for a long time.

And when he came back,

the tree was happy

she could hardly speak.

"Come, Boy," she whispered,

"come and play."

"I am too old and sad to play,"

said the boy.

"I want a boat that will

take me away from here.

Can you give me a boat?"

"Cut down my trunk

and make a boat," said the tree.

"Then you can sail away...

and be happy."

And so the boy cut down her trunk

and made a boat and sailed away.

And the tree was happy...

but not really.

And after a long time

the boy came back again.

"I am sorry, Boy,"

said the tree," but I have nothing

left to give you - 

My apples are gone."

"My teeth are too weak

for apples" said the boy.

"My branches are gone”

said the tree. "You

cannot swing on them."

"I am too old to swing

on branches," said the boy.

"My trunk is gone." said the tree.

"You cannot climb."

"I am too tired to climb." said the boy.

"I am sorry," sighed the tree.

"I wish that I could give you something...

but I have nothing left.

I am just an old stump.

I am sorry..."

"I don't need very much now," said the boy.

"Just a quiet place to sit and rest.

I am very tired."

"Well," said the tree, straightening 

herself up as much as she could,

"well, an old stump is good for sitting 

and resting.

Come, Boy, sit down.  Sit down and rest."

And the boy did.

And the tree was happy.




The Giving Tree 

by 

Shel Silverstein





Sheldon Allan Silverstein (September 25, 1930 – May 10, 1999) was an American writer, poet, cartoonist, singer-songwriter, musician, and playwright. Born and raised in Chicago, Illinois, Silverstein briefly attended university before being drafted into the United States Army.  During his rise to prominence in the 1950s, his illustrations were published in various newspapers and magazines






Tuesday, May 8, 2018

A LITTLE HUMOR FOR YOU TODAY.

My photo has nothing to do with the poem, just liked the flowers, and the poem brought me a smile.  I hope it does for you too.  



Grumpledump's Song 
by 
Shel Silverstein

Days are too long,
Sunshine's too hot,
Wind is too strong.
Clouds are too fluffy,
Grass is too green,
Ground is too dusty, 
Sheets are too clean.
Stars are too twinkly,
Moon is too high,
Water's too drippy,
Sand is too dry.
Rocks are too heavy,
Feathers too light,
Kids are too noisy,
Shoes are too tight.
Folks are too happy,
Singin' their songs.
Why can't they see it?
Everything's wrong!

Tuesday, September 6, 2016

A POEM


Poet's Tree

Underneath the poet tree
Come and rest a while with me,
And watch the way the world-web weaves
Between the shady story leaves.
The branches of the poet tree
Reach from the mountain to the sea.
So come and dream, or come and climb.
Just don't get hit by falling rhymes.

~Shel Silverstein~