Here is the House by American Poet Ken Nesbitt

Here is the house
on the street in the town
where the downstairs is up
and the upstairs is down

The people who live here
all stand on their heads.
They sleep on the ceilings
and can't reach their beds

The basement's the attic.
The roof is the floor.
They climb up a ladder
to crawl through the door
.
Their pets run in circles
because they're all dizzy.
This house is confusing
and everyone's busy.

The downstairs is upstairs.
The upstairs is down
since twenty tornadoes
blew into the town.

On the Thirty Third of Januaugust by KEN NESBITT

On the thirty third of Januaugust,
right before Octember,
a strange thing didn't happen
that I always won't remember.

At eleven in the afternoon,
while making midnight brunch,
I poured a glass of sandwiches
and baked a plate of punch.

Then I climbed up on my head to see
the silver sky of green,
and danced around my feet because
I'd turned eleventeen.

A parade began to end 
and music started not to play,
as rain came out and snowed all night
that warm and sunny day.

That was how it didn't happen
as I keenly don't remember,
on the thirty third of Januaugust,
right before Octember.

From the book "The Armpit of Doom" 
Listen to this poem clicking: Ken Nesbitt´s Poetry4kids.com