When I wrote my book Rolling Harvey Down the Hill, I included a poem about the time that Willie ate a worm. I put in as much of the experience as I could in just a few lines, including Willie’s dusting off the worm, swallowing it without chewing, and belching afterward. You can write poems based on your own experiences too—even the gross ones. Think of something weird that you’ve done, and list everything you can remember about it: the sights, the sounds, the smells, and your feelings. Then take some of the things you’ve listed, and try to weave them into a poem. Don’t be afraid to exaggerate or to add or change a fact or two if you think that might improve the poem. After all, you’re not a reporter telling us exactly what happened; you’re a creative writer telling a funny story and trying to make it as interesting and engrossing as possible.
exaggerate: to make something bigger, better, stranger, worse, funnier than it actually is. It’s a very useful technique in writing humorous poetry.
Willie Ate a Worm
Willie ate a worm today,
a squiggly, wiggly worm.
He picked it up
from the dust and dirt
and wiped it off
on his brand-new shirt.
Then slurp, slupp
he ate it up,
yes Willie ate a worm today,
a squiggly, wiggly worm.
Willie ate a worm today,
he didn’t bother to chew,
and we all stared
and we all squirmed
when Willie swallowed
down that worm.
Then slupp, slurp
Willie burped,
yes Willie ate a worm today,
I think I’ll eat one too.
There are worse things than worms that you might eat. Several years ago I was in a restaurant where I had lunch…once! I never went back to that restaurant. In fact I didn’t even stay to finish my meal but left in a hurry. You see, suddenly right under my table there appeared some unwelcome company. It was a rat, a big one, and it scampered right over my feet. I jumped up, yelled a little bit, and then ran out of the restaurant.
Around that time I was walking between three and five miles a day to stay in shape. The incident in that restaurant so unsettled me that I took an extra-long walk, about nine miles. As I walked, I thought hard about that rat, and by the time the walk was done, I had a poem in my head. Instead of simply having a rat visit me at the table, I would write about actually eating a rat. I sat down on a park bench and scribbled the poem in my notebook. Of course it didn’t come out perfect the first time, and I rewrote it quite a bit. The poem is called “Rat for Lunch!”
Rat for Lunch!
Rat for lunch! Rat for lunch!
Yum! Delicious! Munch munch munch!
One by one or by the bunch—
Rat, oh rat, oh rat for lunch!
Scrambled slug in salty slime
is our choice at breakfast time,
but for lunch we say to you,
nothing but a rat will do.
Rat for lunch! Rat for lunch!
Yum! Delicious! Munch munch munch!
One by one or by the bunch—
Rat, oh rat, oh rat for lunch!
For our snack each afternoon,
we chew bits of baked baboon,
curried squirrel, buttered bat,
but for lunch it must be rat.
Rat for lunch! Rat for lunch!
Yum! Delicious! Munch munch munch!
One by one or by the bunch—
Rat, oh rat, oh rat for lunch!
In the evening we may dine
on fillet of porcupine,
buzzard gizzard, lizard chops,
but for lunch a rat is tops.
Rat for lunch! Rat for lunch!
Yum! Delicious! Munch munch munch!
One by one or by the bunch—
Rat, oh rat, oh rat for lunch!
Rat, we love you steamed or stewed,
blackened, broiled, or barbecued.
Pickled, poached, or fried in fat,
there is nothing like a rat.
Rat for lunch! Rat for lunch!
Yum! Delicious! Munch munch munch!
One by one or by the bunch—
Rat, oh rat, oh rat for lunch!