His blood is black and boiling hot, he gurgles ghastly groans. He'll cook you in his dinner pot, your skin, your flesh, your bones.
Jack PrelutskyChildren seem naturally drawn to poetry - it's some combination of the rhyme, rhythm, and the words themselves.
Jack PrelutskyWhen I began writing, I didn't read any other children's poets... I didn't want to be influenced until I'd found my own voice. Now I read them all.
Jack Prelutsky