Poems by Dan Temple

Counting stripes on zebra backs
Is harder than it seems.
Should I start with black ones
Or the white ones in between?

When they start running, I lose count,
'Cause zebras run so quick.
And counting running zebra stripes
Will often make me sick.

Michael Murphy ate a worm;
I've seen him do it twice.
He ate it with some mustard
And a side of Spanish rice.

He asked me if I'd like one,
And I said, "No way, Mike!
I'll eat almost anything,
But mustard I don't like."

I put a popcorn kernel
In my ear the other night.
My parents tried to get it out,
But it was much too tight.

They took me to the doctor
With this complicated case.
She took one look inside my ear,
Then made a funny face.

I saw that she was worried,
And my parents noticed too.
We asked her what the problem was
And what she planned to do.

She said, "I see the kernel,
But there's more in there I fear."
She pulled out some strange doctor tool
And stuck it in my ear.

It looked just like a water gun
With a long protruding spout.
She worked it for a minute
Then the kernel popped right out.

I thought that she was finished,
But she kept on with her task.
Then more came out before I
Even had a chance to ask.

Two bits of crayon (red and blue),
A piece of gummy bear,
Half a dry old tater tot,
And something growing hair.

Next came what I think was once
A piece of rubber band,
Then pencil shavings, raisins,
And an action figure's hand.

Things continued flowing out
Until the job was done.
I guess I learned my lesson,
But I really have to run.

There's more to say, and I wish I
Could tell you how it goes.
But now I've got to try to get
This grape out of my nose.

There's a monster in my closet;
I see him every night.
At half past eight
He lies in wait
As I turn out the light.

There's a monster in my closet,
And when he gets the chance,
He turns to me
And clumsily
Tries on my shirts and pants.