Shel Silverstein

(September 25, 1930 – May 10, 1999 / Chicago/ Illinois)

Shel Silverstein Poems

201. Sick 4/7/2010
202. The Little Boy And The Old Man 4/7/2010
203. Somebody Stole My Rig 4/7/2010
204. Batty 4/6/2010
205. All The Time In The World 4/6/2010
206. Hector The Collector 4/7/2010
207. Sarah Cynthia Slyvia Stout Would Not Take The Garbage Out 4/7/2010
208. Enter This Deserted House 1/1/2004
209. If The World Was Crazy 4/7/2010
210. Somebody Has To 4/7/2010
211. Boa Constrictor 4/6/2010
212. Jimmy Jet And His Tv Set 4/7/2010
213. No Difference 4/7/2010
214. 25 Minutes To Go 4/6/2010
215. Snowball 4/7/2010
216. Ations 4/6/2010
217. Colors 4/6/2010
218. Crowded Tub 1/1/2004
219. A Light In The Attic 4/6/2010
220. Smart 4/7/2010
221. A Boy Named Sue 4/6/2010
222. The Giving Tree 4/7/2010
223. Where The Sidewalk Ends 4/7/2010

Comments about Shel Silverstein

  • matthe2 that guy (4/20/2018 8:55:00 PM)

    he is soooooooooooooooo good

    16 person liked.
    2 person did not like.
  • im so lonely (4/19/2018 8:24:00 AM)

    this sucks hahaahahahahahahahahah

  • ben thompson (4/17/2018 8:07:00 PM)

    fiddle with me dad, ;)

  • Jed Hoopert (4/17/2018 8:06:00 PM)

    wanna me babe?

  • i love shel silverstein (4/17/2018 7:41:00 AM)

    this guy is amazing. he should be #1 best poet not #7

  • can you see this (4/16/2018 12:19:00 PM)

    if you can see this then you're gay

  • John Cena (4/16/2018 12:14:00 PM)

    you cant see me lmaooo

  • Berko (4/14/2018 12:10:00 PM)

    Hey kitten I think you are being rude to people and your using bad words. How would you feel if somebody said you the same things?

  • jeffy (4/14/2018 11:32:00 AM)

    my daddy let me read this

  • hihihi (4/13/2018 2:27:00 PM)

    all of these comments have a t least one dislike, why are people rude to people who aren't really saying bad things! !

Best Poem of Shel Silverstein

Where The Sidewalk Ends

There is a place where the sidewalk ends
and before the street begins,
and there the grass grows soft and white,
and there the sun burns crimson bright,
and there the moon-bird rests from his flight
to cool in the peppermint wind.

Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
and the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
we shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow
and watch where the chalk-white arrows go
to the place where the sidewalk ends.

Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and ...

Read the full of Where The Sidewalk Ends

A Boy Named Sue

Well, my daddy left home when I was three,
and he didn't leave much to Ma and me,
just this old guitar and a bottle of booze.
Now I don't blame him because he run and hid,
but the meanest thing that he ever did was
before he left he went and named me Sue.

Well, he must have thought it was quite a joke,
and it got lots of laughs from a lot of folks,

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