She chose these:
Why Do I Have To Clean My Room by Jack Prelutsky
Why do I have to clean my room
when I would rather play?
The crayons scattered on the floor
are hardly in the way.
I almost never trip upon
my basketball or drums,
and I don't pay attention
to the cake and cookie crumbs.
Why do I have to clean my room?
I think my room looks nice.
There's pizza in the corner,
but it's only half a slice.
I'm not at all concerned about
the gravy on the chair,
my piles of model planes and trains,
my stack of underwear.
I will admit some bits of clay
are sticking to the wall.
I scarcely even notice them
and do not mind at all.
Beneath my bed there's just a wedge
of last week's apple pie,
and yet I have to clean my room...
I simply don't know why.
This is the illustration she gave me for the above.
I'm Building a Bridge of Bananas by Jack Prelutsky
I'm building a bridge of bananas,
it's pretty, but not very strong.
Bananas are not very sturdy,
bananas don't last very long.
Initially green, then yellow,
increasingly speckled with brown,
inevitably, as they ripen,
it's clear that my bridge will fall down.
My bridge is developing fissures
and even some sizable gaps.
It's senseless to try and repair it,
I might as well let it collapse.
I waggles and sags in the middle,
it wobbles and droops at the ends,
and so I've alerted my neighbors,
as well as my family and friends.
They're trucking in freezers of ice cream
of every last flavor that's made,
plus whipped cream and chocolate syrup,
both of a premium grade.
They're bringing me barrels of walnuts,
and cherries without any pits -
we'll shortly be sharing delicious
gigantic banana bridge splits.
This is her illustration:
These are her revised versions.
|Why Do I Have to Clean My Room?|
|I'm Building A Bridge of Bananas.|