(playful music) (calm music) - Hi, my name's Gene Gagliano.

I'm the Wyoming Poet Laureate.

I write for grown-ups, but I also write for children.

I'd like to share some poetry from my new book, What Did You Say?

It's the sequel to a book that I read to you before, Is It True?

Let me begin with this poem called "Cut It Out."

"Cut It Out."

I'm was teasing my little sister, pulling her long blonde hair.

My mother yelled, "Cut it out."

So I stopped right then and there.

Then I grabbed the scissors and cut.

A lock of hair dropped to the floor.

Then Mom sent me to time out.

Guess I won't do that anymore.

"Eat Like a Pig."

Mom said you eat like a pig.

I think that's really cool, 'cause I like pigs an awful lot.

I think that pigs should rule.

Pigs can play in the mud all day and pigs can grunt and snort.

I think their curly tails are cute.

And just like me, they're short.

Pigs don't use a fork or spoon and don't need a dinner plate.

They don't ever use a napkin.

And I think that's really great.

I think I should have been a pig cause pigs are kind of neat.

But mom said if I was a pig then I wouldn't smell so sweet.

The next one's called "Lend Me a Hand."

My dad's always saying I'll lend you a hand.

How can he do that?

I don't understand.

I'll lend dad a hand, but then I'd have one.

And how could I swim or have fun in the sun?

I just have two hands, but he must have more.

Maybe hides them somewhere in a drawer.

"Frog In Your Throat."

Frank's got a frog in his throat.

It happened while out on the boat.

You think he's making a joke?

Will he be able to croak?

Will the frog hop up and down, make his head start spinning around?

Will the frog swim down to his tummy?

Poor Frank, that wouldn't be funny.

If Frank decides to eat a fly, it'll make him sick, but he won't die.

The next one's called "When Pigs Fly."

I begged and I pleaded, I wouldn't be shy.

Please buy me a dog.

"Yes, son, when pigs fly."

So I made paper pigs, tied them up to a kite.

Let them fly to the sky, such a wonderful sight.

You should have seen Dad when he saw the pigs fly.

His mouth opened wide, almost swallowed a fly.

"You tricked me," Dad said, "but I did see pigs fly.

I'll buy you your dog.

You're a very smart guy."

The next one's called "Bite Your Tongue."

Mom glared at me, and said "Bite your tongue," for talking back when I was young.

I wasn't trying to be a brat.

I just didn't know what she meant by that.

So I bit my tongue and it was sore.

I won't talk back.

Not anymore.

"Get the Ball Rolling."

"Are you done yet?"

Mom said to me.

I told her I wasn't.

She pointed at me.

"Better get started so you can go out.

Get the ball rolling.

No need to pout.

Marbles are scattered all over the floor.

Get them picked up.

I told you before."

I'll get the ball rolling.

I'm going to hurry.

I'm cleaning my room.

Mom, don't you worry.

The next one is called "Top of My Head."

I couldn't remember.

I couldn't recall.

It must be important what I saw in the hall.

On the tip of my tongue at the top of my head.

I've almost got it.

That's what I said.

Then I remembered what I should do.

Look down at my feet and tied up my shoe "Enough For an Army."

Mom loves baking cookies, baking cookies every day.

When mom is baking cookies, you don't get in her away.

There are cookies in the pantry.

There are cookies on the shelves.

There are cookies for the neighbors.

There are cookies for the elves.

You'll find cookies in the kitchen.

You'll find cookies down the hall.

You'll find cookies in the cupboards.

You'll find her cookies at the mall.

There are cookies for the doctor.

There are cookies for the nurse.

There are cookies for mayor.

There are cookies in her purse.

She bakes cookies for the Army.

She bakes cookies for Marines.

She bakes cookies for the Navy and the Air Force so it seems.

Mom loves baking cookies, baking cookies every day.

My mom is very thoughtful.

She gives them all away.

"Cats Out of the Bag."

Cats out of the bag, I know what that means.

I shouldn't have heard, I shouldn't have seen.

My very own bike, a bike just for me.

A birthday gift I can't wait to see.

Cats out of the bag, without a doubt.

Lucky for me that I found out.

The next one's called "Stop Dragging Your Feet."

I can walk quickly down the street.

Why would I want to drag my feet?

You might agree that this is true.

There are things we hate to do.

Helping to weed the flower bed, something that I always dread.

Cleaning after my messy cat, my digging dog right after that.

Why would I want to drag my feet when I can walk quickly down the street?

Every day there's much to be done.

And some of those things aren't much fun.

"More or Less."

Sometimes I get confused and don't know what to choose.

Should I choose more?

Should I choose less?

Maybe I should take a guess.

Which is more and which is less.

How do you know which is really best?

Should I go east?

Should I go west?

I think I'll choose whatever's best.

The next one's one of my favorites, "In a Pickle."

My friend Bill is in a pickle.

It's hard to see in my head.

It has to be a giant one, big as a queen sized bed.

Imagine Bill in a pickle.

It must be a giant one.

If he could fit inside of it, it must have weighed a ton.

He'll have to eat from the inside out have search and rescue find him.

Will he turn green from eating it?

And will anyone ever find him?

Did Bill resist and struggle as someone stuffed him in there?

I'll bet he kicked and hollered like a big old grizzly bear.

If he gets out of this pickle, he'll probably smell like dill.

But I won't care about that.

He's still my best friend Bill.

(calm music)