Peter Piper Picked a Peck of Pickled Poems

“Arithmetic” by Carl Sandburg

Arithmetic is where numbers fly like pigeons in and out of your head.

Arithmetic tells you how many you lose or win if you know how many

you had before you lost or won.

Arithmetic is seven eleven all good children go to heaven--

or five six bundle of sticks.

Arithmetic is numbers you squeeze from your head to your hand

to your pencil to your paper till you get the answer.

Arithmetic is where the answer is right and everything is nice

and you can look out of the window and see the blue sky--

or the answer is wrong and you have to start all over and

try again and see how it comes out this time.

If you take a number and double it and double it again and then

double it a few more times, the number gets bigger and bigger

and goes higher and higher and only arithmetic can tell you

what the number is when you decide to quit doubling.

Arithmetic is where you have to multiply--and you carry

the multiplication table in your head and hope you won't lose it.

If you have two animal crackers, one good and one bad, and you eat one

and a striped zebra with streaks all over him eats the other,

how many animal crackers will you have if somebody offers you

five six seven and you say No no no and you say Nay nay nay

and you say Nix nix nix?

If you ask your mother for one fried egg for breakfast and she gives you

two fried eggs and you eat both of them, who is better in arithmetic,

you or your mother?

Hi, I’m Grace, and this is the Peter Piper Picked a Peck of Pickled Poems Podcast. It’s a poetry podcast by a kid, for kids. Are you ready for today’s Pickled Poem?

Email [email protected] and let me know what you thought about today's episode. I’d love to hear YOUR favorite poem, too, so make sure to include that in the email and it might show up in a future episode. Make sure your parents have subscribed to this podcast, and ask them to leave a rating and review so more kids and families can enjoy pickled poems. 

Oh, and I should mention that this podcast is sponsored by the Homeschool Conversations with Humility and Doxology podcast, which is hosted by my Mom. So if you have a parent listening, they should probably check that one out, too. 

Now go pick a peck of pickled poems! I’ll see you next week!

“Autumn” by Emily Dickinson

The morns are meeker than they were,

The nuts are getting brown;

The berry's cheek is plumper,

The rose is out of town.

The maple wears a gayer scarf,

The field a scarlet gown.

Lest I should be old-fashioned,

I'll put a trinket on.

Hi, I’m Grace, and this is the Peter Piper Picked a Peck of Pickled Poems Podcast. It’s a poetry podcast by a kid, for kids. Are you ready for today’s Pickled Poem?

Email [email protected] and let me know what you thought about today's episode. I’d love to hear YOUR favorite poem, too, so make sure to include that in the email and it might show up in a future episode. Make sure your parents have subscribed to this podcast, and ask them to leave a rating and review so more kids and families can enjoy pickled poems. 

Oh, and I should mention that this podcast is sponsored by the Homeschool Conversations with Humility and Doxology podcast, which is hosted by my Mom. So if you have a parent listening, they should probably check that one out, too. 

Now go pick a peck of pickled poems! I’ll see you next week!

“Ickle Me, Pickle Me, Tickle Me Too” by Shel Silverstein

Ickle Me, Pickle Me, Tickle Me too

Went for a ride in a flying shoe.

"Hooray!"

"What fun!"

"It's time we flew!"

Said Ickle Me, Pickle Me, Tickle Me too.

Ickle was captain, and Pickle was crew

And Tickle served coffee and mulligan stew

As higher

And higher

And higher they flew,

Ickle Me, Pickle Me, Tickle Me too.

Ickle Me, Pickle Me, Tickle Me too,

Over the sun and beyond the blue.

"Hold on!"

"Stay in!"

"I hope we do!"

Cried Ickle Me, Pickle Me, Tickle Me too.

Ickle Me, Pickle Me, Tickle Me too

Never returned to the world they knew,

And nobody

Knows what's

Happened to

Dear Ickle Me, Pickle Me, Tickle Me too.

Hi, I’m Grace, and this is the Peter Piper Picked a Peck of Pickled Poems Podcast. It’s a poetry podcast by a kid, for kids. Are you ready for today’s Pickled Poem?

Email [email protected] and let me know what you thought about today's episode. I’d love to hear YOUR favorite poem, too, so make sure to include that in the email and it might show up in a future episode. Make sure your parents have subscribed to this podcast, and ask them to leave a rating and review so more kids and families can enjoy pickled poems. 

Oh, and I should mention that this podcast is sponsored by the Homeschool Conversations with Humility and Doxology podcast, which is hosted by my Mom. So if you have a parent listening, they should probably check that one out, too. 

Now go pick a peck of pickled poems! I’ll see you next week!

“The Goops” by Gelett Burgess

The meanest trick I ever knew

Was one I know you never do.

I saw a Goop once try to do it,

And there was nothing funny to it.

He pulled a chair from under me

As I was sitting down; but he

Was sent to bed, and rightly, too.

It was a horrid thing to do!

The Goops they lick their fingers,

   And the Goops they lick their knives;

They spill their broth on the tablecloth--

   Oh, they lead disgusting lives!

The Goops they talk while eating,

   And loud and fast they chew;

And that is why I'm glad that I

   Am not a Goop--are you?

Hi, I’m Grace, and this is the Peter Piper Picked a Peck of Pickled Poems Podcast. It’s a poetry podcast by a kid, for kids. Are you ready for today’s Pickled Poem?

Email [email protected] and let me know what you thought about today's episode. I’d love to hear YOUR favorite poem, too, so make sure to include that in the email and it might show up in a future episode. Make sure your parents have subscribed to this podcast, and ask them to leave a rating and review so more kids and families can enjoy pickled poems. 

Oh, and I should mention that this podcast is sponsored by the Homeschool Conversations with Humility and Doxology podcast, which is hosted by my Mom. So if you have a parent listening, they should probably check that one out, too. 

Now go pick a peck of pickled poems! I’ll see you next week!

“Vagabond Song” by Bliss Carman

There is something in the autumn that is native to my blood—

Touch of manner, hint of mood;

And my heart is like a rhyme,

With the yellow and the purple and the crimson keeping time.

The scarlet of the maples can shake me like a cry

Of bugles going by.

And my lonely spirit thrills

To see the frosty asters like a smoke upon the hills.

There is something in October sets the gypsy blood astir;

We must rise and follow her,

When from every hill of flame

She calls and calls each vagabond by name.

Hi, I’m Grace, and this is the Peter Piper Picked a Peck of Pickled Poems Podcast. It’s a poetry podcast by a kid, for kids. Are you ready for today’s Pickled Poem?

Email [email protected] and let me know what you thought about today's episode. I’d love to hear YOUR favorite poem, too, so make sure to include that in the email and it might show up in a future episode. Make sure your parents have subscribed to this podcast, and ask them to leave a rating and review so more kids and families can enjoy pickled poems. 

Oh, and I should mention that this podcast is sponsored by the Homeschool Conversations with Humility and Doxology podcast, which is hosted by my Mom. So if you have a parent listening, they should probably check that one out, too. 

Now go pick a peck of pickled poems! I’ll see you next week!

“The Tale of Custard the Dragon” by Ogden Nash

Belinda lived in a little white house,

With a little black kitten and a little gray mouse,

And a little yellow dog and a little red wagon,

And a realio, trulio, little pet dragon.

Now the name of the little black kitten was Ink,

And the little gray mouse, she called her Blink,

And the little yellow dog was sharp as Mustard,

But the dragon was a coward, and she called him Custard.

Custard the dragon had big sharp teeth,

And spikes on top of him and scales underneath,

Mouth like a fireplace, chimney for a nose,

And realio, trulio, daggers on his toes.

Belinda was as brave as a barrel full of bears,

And Ink and Blink chased lions down the stairs,

Mustard was as brave as a tiger in a rage,

But Custard cried for a nice safe cage.

Belinda tickled him, she tickled him unmerciful,

Ink, Blink and Mustard, they rudely called him Percival,

They all sat laughing in the little red wagon

At the realio, trulio, cowardly dragon.

Belinda giggled till she shook the house,

And Blink said Week!, which is giggling for a mouse,

Ink and Mustard rudely asked his age,

When Custard cried for a nice safe cage.

Suddenly, suddenly they heard a nasty sound,

And Mustard growled, and they all looked around.

Meowch! cried Ink, and Ooh! cried Belinda,

For there was a pirate, climbing in the winda.

Pistol in his left hand, pistol in his right,

And he held in his teeth a cutlass bright,

His beard was black, one leg was wood;

It was clear that the pirate meant no good.

Belinda paled, and she cried, Help! Help!

But Mustard fled with a terrified yelp,

Ink trickled down to the bottom of the household,

And little mouse Blink strategically mouseholed.

But up jumped Custard, snorting like an engine,

Clashed his tail like irons in a dungeon,

With a clatter and a clank and a jangling squirm

He went at the pirate like a robin at a worm.

The pirate gaped at Belinda’s dragon,

And gulped some grog from his pocket flagon,

He fired two bullets but they didn’t hit,

And Custard gobbled him, every bit.

Belinda embraced him, Mustard licked him,

No one mourned for his pirate victim

Ink and Blink in glee did gyrate

Around the dragon that ate the pyrate.

But presently up spoke little dog Mustard,

I’d been twice as brave if I hadn’t been flustered.

And up spoke Ink and up spoke Blink,

We’d have been three times as brave, we think,

And Custard said, I quite agree

That everybody is braver than me.

Belinda still lives in her little white house,

With her little black kitten and her little gray mouse,

And her little yellow dog and her little red wagon,

And her realio, trulio, little pet dragon.

Belinda is as brave as a barrel full of bears,

And Ink and Blink chase lions down the stairs,

Mustard is as brave as a tiger in a rage,

But Custard keeps crying for a nice safe cage.

Hi, I’m Grace, and this is the Peter Piper Picked a Peck of Pickled Poems Podcast. It’s a poetry podcast by a kid, for kids. Are you ready for today’s Pickled Poem?

Email ⁠[email protected]⁠ and let me know what you thought about today’s episode. I’d love to hear YOUR favorite poem, too, so make sure to include that in the email and it might show up in a future episode. Make sure your parents have subscribed to this podcast, and ask them to leave a rating and review so more kids and families can enjoy pickled poems. 

Oh, and I should mention that this podcast is sponsored by the ⁠Homeschool Conversations with Humility and Doxology podcast⁠, which is hosted by my Mom. So if you have a parent listening, they should probably check that one out, too. 

Now go pick a peck of pickled poems! I’ll see you next week!

Happy Hobbit Day! This version of “The Road Goes Ever On” by J. R. R. Tolkien is found in The Hobbit.

Roads go ever ever on,
Over rock and under tree,
By caves where never sun has shone,
By streams that never find the sea;
Over snow by winter sown,
And through the merry flowers of June,
Over grass and over stone,
And under mountains in the moon.

Roads go ever ever on
Under cloud and under star,
Yet feet that wandering have gone
Turn at last to home afar.
Eyes that fire and sword have seen
And horror in the halls of stone
Look at last on meadows green
And trees and hills they long have known.

Hi, I’m Grace, and this is the Peter Piper Picked a Peck of Pickled Poems Podcast. It’s a poetry podcast by a kid, for kids. Are you ready for today’s Pickled Poem?

Email ⁠[email protected]⁠ and let me know what you thought about today’s episode. I’d love to hear YOUR favorite poem, too, so make sure to include that in the email and it might show up in a future episode. Make sure your parents have subscribed to this podcast, and ask them to leave a rating and review so more kids and families can enjoy pickled poems. 

Oh, and I should mention that this podcast is sponsored by the ⁠Homeschool Conversations with Humility and Doxology podcast⁠, which is hosted by my Mom. So if you have a parent listening, they should probably check that one out, too. 

Now go pick a peck of pickled poems! I’ll see you next week!

“Mr. Nobody” by Anonymous

I know a funny little man,

    As quiet as a mouse,

Who does the mischief that is done

    In everybody’s house!

There’s no one ever sees his face,

    And yet we all agree

That every plate we break was cracked

    By Mr. Nobody.

’Tis he who always tears out books,

    Who leaves the door ajar,

He pulls the buttons from our shirts,

    And scatters pins afar;

That squeaking door will always squeak,

    For prithee, don’t you see,

We leave the oiling to be done

    By Mr. Nobody.

He puts damp wood upon the fire

   That kettles cannot boil;

His are the feet that bring in mud,

   And all the carpets soil.

The papers always are mislaid;

   Who had them last, but he?

There’s no one tosses them about

   But Mr. Nobody.

The finger marks upon the door

    By none of us are made;

We never leave the blinds unclosed,

    To let the curtains fade.

The ink we never spill;   the boots

    That lying round you see

Are not our boots,—they all belong

    To Mr. Nobody.

Hi, I’m Grace, and this is the Peter Piper Picked a Peck of Pickled Poems Podcast. It’s a poetry podcast by a kid, for kids. Are you ready for today’s Pickled Poem?

Email ⁠[email protected]⁠ and let me know what you thought about today’s episode. I’d love to hear YOUR favorite poem, too, so make sure to include that in the email and it might show up in a future episode. Make sure your parents have subscribed to this podcast, and ask them to leave a rating and review so more kids and families can enjoy pickled poems. 

Oh, and I should mention that this podcast is sponsored by the ⁠Homeschool Conversations with Humility and Doxology podcast⁠, which is hosted by my Mom. So if you have a parent listening, they should probably check that one out, too. 

Now go pick a peck of pickled poems! I’ll see you next week!

“Jabberwocky” by Lewis Carroll

’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves

      Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:

All mimsy were the borogoves,

      And the mome raths outgrabe.

“Beware the Jabberwock, my son!

      The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!

Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun

      The frumious Bandersnatch!”

He took his vorpal sword in hand;

      Long time the manxome foe he sought—

So rested he by the Tumtum tree

      And stood awhile in thought.

And, as in uffish thought he stood,

      The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,

Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,

      And burbled as it came!

One, two! One, two! And through and through

      The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!

He left it dead, and with its head

      He went galumphing back.

“And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?

      Come to my arms, my beamish boy!

O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!”

      He chortled in his joy.

’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves

      Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:

All mimsy were the borogoves,

      And the mome raths outgrabe.

Hi, I’m Grace, and this is the Peter Piper Picked a Peck of Pickled Poems Podcast. It’s a poetry podcast by a kid, for kids. Are you ready for today’s Pickled Poem?

Email ⁠[email protected]⁠ and let me know what you thought about today’s episode. I’d love to hear YOUR favorite poem, too, so make sure to include that in the email and it might show up in a future episode. Make sure your parents have subscribed to this podcast, and ask them to leave a rating and review so more kids and families can enjoy pickled poems. 

Oh, and I should mention that this podcast is sponsored by the ⁠Homeschool Conversations with Humility and Doxology podcast⁠, which is hosted by my Mom. So if you have a parent listening, they should probably check that one out, too. 

Now go pick a peck of pickled poems! I’ll see you next week!

Today’s Pickled Poem is a special September Birthday Shout out for Penelope Jane who turns 4 years old this month! Her grandmamma has requested this poem just for her! Happy birthday Penny, from your grandmamma!

The Cupboard

by Walter de la Mare

I know a little cupboard,

With a teeny tiny key,

And there's a jar of Lollipops

For me, me, me.

It has a little shelf, my dear,

As dark as dark can be,

And there's a dish of Banbury Cakes

For me, me, me.

I have a small fat grandmamma,

With a very slippery knee,

And she's Keeper of the Cupboard,

With the key, key, key.

And when I'm very good, my dear,

As good as good can be,

There's Banbury Cakes, and Lollipops

For me, me, me.

Hi, I’m Grace, and this is the Peter Piper Picked a Peck of Pickled Poems Podcast. It’s a poetry podcast by a kid, for kids. Are you ready for today’s Pickled Poem?

Email [email protected] and let me know what you thought about today's episode. I’d love to hear YOUR favorite poem, too, so make sure to include that in the email and it might show up in a future episode. Make sure your parents have subscribed to this podcast, and ask them to leave a rating and review so more kids and families can enjoy pickled poems. 

Oh, and I should mention that this podcast is sponsored by the Homeschool Conversations with Humility and Doxology podcast, which is hosted by my Mom. So if you have a parent listening, they should probably check that one out, too. 

Now go pick a peck of pickled poems! I’ll see you next week!