by Nic Olson
My parents have been cleaning out our basement full of crap in hopes of selling our house someday and found piles of papers, posters and report cards that have been stockpiled for the past twenty years, for their sentimental value only. I wrote this poem in Grade 2.
Someone Told Me I am What I Eat
I am what I eat!
Now isn’t that neat!
But can it be
That corn is me?
Is a potato my heart?
My lungs, tacos?
Are my intestines made of seaweed?
My shins from steak?
Apples cannot make an airsac.
Or any part of me I fear.
Can someone solve this mystery
Of how my food turns into me?
Apparently I’ve been a writer for many years. The first time I read this, I was quite unsure whether or not I wrote it, because it was so good. Shel Silverstein good.
I’ve been writing hits since I was in Ms. Nasty Witch’s class in second grade. Which makes me think, I am the classic English student. I work construction, I live with my parents, I am writing a book, I often share my feelings with myself via blog, I don’t shower very often. All classic signs that I’m a genuine writer. So what is this Engineering thing I’ve been considering? I’m a writer, plain and simple. A crude, boring, sarcastic writer, who actually doesn’t like writing, except for its quality of telling people how little I like certain things.
The two hits of my writing career, one about tacos, potatoes and steak, the other…. yet to come.
elementary school writings are priceless.my mom has a few good ones kicking around as well.not sure any of them beat your work though.ms. nasty witch taught you well.(i’m glad i’m not the only one who ruthlessly nicknamed teachers…grade 4 was mrs. ratface…cody and i both got the pleasure of her rattiness)
grade 2? yeah right.
oh man i have the funniest poem i wrote when i was in some silly grade. its ridiculous…there once was a dog who thought he was a frogso he sat on a logthen one fateful day while he was playing croquethe was eaten by a hogoh how sad was his momwhen she found out he was goneshe cried and criedtill she got blind and died. how’s that for a ridiculous poem?
my sister still reminds me of that horrendous poem till this day.
best poem is on blair’s fridge. ask him for a copy.i’m with jeremy, you’re fudging the details, it wasn’t grade 2, or else it wasn’t alone. you didn’t know ‘intenstines’ in grade 2, you would have contracted ‘cannot’, and you would have spelled it ‘airsack’.my best limerick from, hmm, we’ll say grade 1…Dave Andreychuk got the puckand hoped for a lot of luckfrom behind his nethe shot like a jetand made the goalie look like a schmuck.i think it was grade 4. i loved dave andreychuk.
It is true, we found it in a writing journal from Grade 2. Wilf even googled it last night to see where it might have came from but the only thing google came up with was Nic’s blog. So give it up guys and face it Nic is just a genius!
Great poem Nic! I love Shel Silverstein as well, Mali also loves him, you know, the giving tree, she always took it out at pizza nights. Have you read the Runny Babbit, a very billy sook! it is awsome, check it out at Chapters, Brianne and I had a few laughs at it.Cindy
Ha Ha, you’re a true mom Laura, coming on little Nicky’s blog and standing up for him. Ha Ha. Awesome.My daughter reads Shel constantly, she’s always quoting his works whilst we drive. She can’t get enough.Maybe she’ll read Nick one day.I hope so.