Growing up, Shel Silverstein was one of my favorite writers, and even now when I see his books, especially his collections of poetry like A Light in the Attic and Where the Sidewalk Ends, I always stop and pick them up. Shel died in 1999, but his family just released a new book with 145 previously unpublished poems and drawings called Every Thing On It.
If there was any doubt in my mind that this collection would be great, and of course there wasn’t, the poem below would have changed my mind. His writing spoke to me as a kid, and clearly, still does today.
Oh, how I love Italian food.
I eat it all the time,
Not just ’cause how good it tastes
But ’cause how good it rhymes.
Insalata, cremolata, manicotti,
Shrimp francese, Bolognese,
Fried zucchini, rollatini,
Fettuccine, green linguine,
Oops—I think I split my jeani.
Read more about it on NPR.