silverstein poetry

Once I spoke the language of the flowers,
Once I understood each word the caterpillar said,
Once I smiled in secret at the gossip of the starlings,
And shared a conversation with the housefly
in my bed.
Once I heard and answered all the questions
of the crickets,
And joined the crying of each falling dying
flake of snow,
Once I spoke the language of the flowers… .
How did it go?
How did it go?
—  Shel Silverstein, “Forgotten Language”
Some people manicure their nails,
Some people trim them neatly
Some people keep them filed down,
I bite ‘em off completely.
Yes, it’s a nasty habit, but
Before you start to scold
Remember, I have never ever,
Scratched a single soul.
—  Shel Silverstein, ‘The Nailbiter’