Poems of Shel Silverstein


There is a voice inside of you
That whispers all day long,
“I feel this is right for me,
I know that this is wrong.”
No teacher, preacher, parent, friend Or wise man can decide What’s right for you — just listen to That voice that speaks inside. (“The Voice”)

When I was a kid — 12 to 14, I’d much rather have been a good baseball player or a hit with the girls, but I couldn’t play ball. I couldn’t dance. Luckily, the girls didn’t want me. Not much I could do about that. So I started to draw and to write. I was also lucky that I didn’t have anybody to copy, be impressed by. I had developed my own style… —Publishers Weekly

Listen to the mustn’ts, child,
Listen to the don’ts.
Listen to the shouldn’ts.
The impossibles, the won’ts.
Listen to the never haves.
Then listen close to me —
Anything can happen, child,
Anything can be. (“Listen to the Mustn’ts”)

People who say they create only themselves and don’t care if they’re published… I hate to hear talk like that. If it’s good, it’s too good not to share. —Publishers Weekly

It’s amazing the difference
A bit of sky can make. (“Sky Seasoning”)

She had blue skin,
And so did he.
He kept it hid
And so did she.
They searched for blue
Their whole life through,
Then passed right by —
And never knew. (“The Masks”)

While other people smiled and cried And loved and reached and touched and felt. Lester sat amid his wealth Stacked mountain-high like stacks of gold. Sat and counted — and grew old…He wasted his wishes on wishing. (“Lester”)

Don’t be dependent on anyone else. I want to go everywhere, look at, and listen to everything. You can go crazy with some of the wonderful stuff there is in life. —
Publishers Weekly

But all the magic I’ve known
I had to make myself. (“Magic”)

If there is a book you want to read but isn’t written yet, write it. And he didn’t really know where he was going, but he did know he was going somewhere, because you really have to go somewhere, don’t you? ―Lafcadio, the Lion

Who Shot Back Just ’cause somethin’ ain’t been done
Don’t mean it can’t be did.
We’re all worth the same
When we turn off the light. (“No

Never explain what you do. It speaks for itself. You only muddle it by talking about it.
—Aardvark magazine

How much good inside a day?
Depends how good you live ’em. (“How Many, How Much”)

“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…and rest.” And the tree was happy… —The Giving Tree


Vicious harassment


The following is not my work but when I read it, I cried my heart out. This is a pure and true description of what a woman has to go through in order to sustain. I hope you guys like it. 🙂
When I was six years old, I gave my first blowjob. “It’s a game”, said He. “Don’t you want to play?”
It was too big, and I threw up on him.
He said I’d do better the next time.

When I was seven years old, I watched a group of fellow second graders cheer as a boy in my class tried to kiss me. He hugged me from behind, giggling all the while.
I threw sand in his eyes, and was sent to the Principal.

When I was eight years old, I had an elderly teacher ask me to stay behind in class. He carried me on his shoulders, and called me pretty. “Teacher’s Pet!” my friends declared, the envy visible
on their faces.
They ignored me at lunch that day.

When I was nine years old, an older girl on the school bus would ask me to lift my skirt up for her.
She was pretty and kind, and told me that I could only be her friend if I did what she said.
I wanted to be her friend.

When I was ten years old, a relative demanded that he get a kiss on the cheek every time we met.
He was large and loud, and I proceeded to hide under my bed whenever I learnt that he was visiting.
I was known as a rude child.

When I was eleven, my auto-man told me that we would only leave if I gave him a hug every day.
He smelled like cheap soap and cigarettes.

When I was twelve years old, I watched as a man on the street touched my mother’s breast as he passed us.
She slapped him amidst the shouts of onlookers telling her to calm down.
She didn’t calm down.

When I was thirteen years old, I exited a restaurant only to see a man visibly masturbating as he walked towards me. As he passed, he winked lasciviously.
My friends and I shifted our gazes down, aghast.

When I was fourteen, a young man in an expensive car followed me home as I walked back from an evening class. I ignored his offer to give me a ride, and I panicked when he got out, only to buy me a box of chocolate
that I refused. He parked at the end of my road, and didn’t go away for an hour.
“It turns me on to see you so scared.”

When I was fifteen, I was groped on a bus. It was with a heart full of shame that I confided in a
friend, only to be met with his anger and disappointment that I had not shouted at the
molester at the time when it happened. My soft protests of being afraid and alone were
drowned out as he berated my inaction. To him, my passiveness and silence were the reasons
why things like this continue to happen.
He did not wait for my response.

When I was sixteen, I discovered that Facebook had a section of inbox messages named ‘others’, which contained those mails received from strangers,
automatically stored as spam.
Curious, I opened it to find numerous messages from men I had never seen before. I was propositioned, called sexy, asked for nudes, and insulted.
Delete message.

When I was seventeen, I called for help as a drunken man tried to sexually harass me in a crowded street.
The people around me seemed to walk by quicker.

At eighteen, I was told that sexism doesn’t exist in modern society.
I was told that harassment couldn’t be as bad as us
women make it out to be.
That I should watch what I wear.

Never mind you were six, never mind you were wearing pink pajamas.
That I should be louder.
But not too loud, a lady must be polite.
That I should always ask for help.
But stop overreacting, there’s a difference.
That I should stay in at night, because it isn’t safe.
You can’t get harassed in broad daylight.
That I should always travel with no less than two boys with me.
You need to be protected.
That it can’t be that hard to be a girl.

I am now nineteen years old.
I am now tired.

Envious eyes


It’s funny how everyone has something to say about you but they won’t come directly to you.
They’ll come around when you have an idea that benefits them.
It’s crazy because you typically don’t see it coming because these are the same people who want your help.
They listen to your envious enemies and take sides like petty school children just to stab you in the back after they benefit from you.
They don’t have the fortitude, the work-ethic or the genius to do what you do but they’ll watch and hate.
They’ll tell their team to stay away from you but they watch.
But here’s what you have to remember, they do this because  they’re envious of your success and determination.
They don’t have your will.
They don’t have anything but a lack of confidence and NO PLAN.
-Powerofspeech @instagram