Skip to main content

Where the Sidewalk Ends by Shel Silverstein: A review

Where the Sidewalk Ends: The Poems and Drawings of Shel SilversteinWhere the Sidewalk Ends: The Poems and Drawings of Shel Silverstein by Shel Silverstein
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

When my kids were little, among our favorite books to read together was Where the Sidewalk Ends by Shel Silverstein. Indeed, one of the best excuses for having kids was reading Silverstein's poetry!

Where the Sidewalk Ends was his first collection of poems. He had had a successful career as a songwriter, playwright, and cartoonist before someone suggested to him that he should write poetry for children. He subsequently became most well-known for such work. He wrote The Giving Tree, a favorite of ours, and A Light in the Attic, another collection of poems which my kids and I enjoyed, but we returned often to the nonsense poetry of Where the Sidewalk Ends.

I think my kids' favorite poem was Sarah Cynthia Sylvia Stout Would Not Take the Garbage Out. The obstinate little girl ultimately "met an awful fate" because of her refusal to do her assigned chore. We also enjoyed reading about the girl who ate a whale, unicorns, crocodiles who went to the dentist, and a boy who turned into a television set. All these poems were wonderful vehicles for the imagination, and isn't that really what you want from poetry?

One of the things that made Silverstein's poems so effective for children was not just the nonsense that made them giggle and set their imaginations free but the quirky drawings that illustrated them. Silverstein had been a cartoonist before he became a poet and he always illustrated his poems with his uniquely imagined drawings.

While Silverstein's poems were often outrageously funny, they also frequently contained profound truths that kids imbibed along with the humor. Here's an example of that, a short poem that I very much liked that appeared early in the book. It is called Magic.

Sandra's seen a leprechaun.
Eddie touched a troll.
Laurie danced with witches once.
Charlie found some goblins' gold.
Donald heard a mermaid sing.
Susy spied an elf.
But all the magic I have known
I've had to make myself.


These poems helped kids - and their parents - learn to make magic for themselves and that is a gift that keeps on giving for a lifetime.




View all my reviews

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Poetry Sunday: Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver

How about we share another Mary Oliver poem? After all, you can never have too many of those. In this one, the poet seems to acknowledge that it is often hard to simply live in and enjoy the moment, perhaps because we are afraid it can't last. She urges us to give in to that moment and fully experience the joy. Although "much can never be redeemed, still, life has some possibility left." Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty of lives and whole towns destroyed or about to be. We are not wise, and not very often kind. And much can never be redeemed. Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this is its way of fighting back, that sometimes something happens better than all the riches or power in the world. It could be anything, but very likely you notice it in the instant when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the case. Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid of its plenty. Joy is no...

Poetry Sunday: Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney

My mother was a farm wife and a prodigious canner. She canned fruit and vegetables from the garden, even occasionally meat. But the best thing that she canned, in my opinion, was blackberry jam. Even as I type those words my mouth waters!  Of course, before she could make that jam, somebody had to pick the blackberries. And that somebody was quite often named Dorothy. I think Seamus Heaney might have spent some time among the briars plucking those delicious black fruits as well, so he would have known that "Once off the bush the fruit fermented, the sweet flesh would turn sour." They don't keep; you have to get that jam made in a hurry! Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney Late August, given heavy rain and sun For a full week, the blackberries would ripen. At first, just one, a glossy purple clot Among others, red, green, hard as a knot. You ate that first one and its flesh was sweet Like thickened wine: summer's blood was in it Leaving stains upon the tongue and lust ...

Poetry Sunday: Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman

You probably remember poet Amanda Gorman from her appearance at the inauguration of President Biden. She read her poem "The Hill We Climb" on that occasion. After the senseless slaughter in Uvalde this week, she was inspired to write another poem which was published in The New York Times. It seemed perfect for the occasion and so I stole it in order to feature it here, just in case you didn't get a chance to read it in the Times . Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman Everything hurts, Our hearts shadowed and strange, Minds made muddied and mute. We carry tragedy, terrifying and true. And yet none of it is new; We knew it as home, As horror, As heritage. Even our children Cannot be children, Cannot be. Everything hurts. It’s a hard time to be alive, And even harder to stay that way. We’re burdened to live out these days, While at the same time, blessed to outlive them. This alarm is how we know We must be altered — That we must differ or die, That we must triumph or try. ...