Teenage years were about the only ones in which i didn;t write bad poetry
this one was published in the brownie magazine when i was 9:

poppy seeds, poppy seeds
blowing about
blown about by the wind
but in the summer
red, white and pink,
poppies will grow
anywhere
in a garden
in a hedge
in a field
or on a ledge

___________________

Whereas this one was written last year...

The Big Mountain

There is a mountain
In the sky
That looks down upon
You and I
Or maybe its just
Really high

If you were up there
In the clouds
You would have to shout
Really loud
Because that mountain's
Really big
Really, really,
Really big

Imagine something
Really big
Not little
Like a baby pig
No something
That is bigger
I better not
Hear you snigger

Its bigger than
The biggest thing
You will have heard
A Craggy sing... about
Its bigger than
A pint of beer
So big it will
Make you fear

Do you have
A fear of heights?
Even when you
Fly a kite?
Then don't climb
Up this hill
Its really big
And will make you ill

If you climb
Then you will vom
Upchuck and puke
With much aplomb
Hurl your guts
Throw up your lunch
Or regurgitate
Your tasty brunch

This mountain's big
Let me remind you
Bigger even
Than chieftain's poo
So big that time
And space it warps
With plenty of space
For your lifeless corpse

The path is littered
With many rocks
And mud to get
Inside your socks
You'll follow it
For a big distance
Look up, and cry
And fill your pants

The mountain is
So very big
That big tree looks
Like a little twig
Its big, so big
As big can be
You look up and
Feel like a flea

The mountain probably
Is the biggest
Its odd that we
Can coexist
It's big and high up
In the cloud
It makes me want
To swear out loud

Its bigness will
Astound you all
It makes other mountains
Look so small
Its so big
You can't see the top
Its covered in cloud
And snows non-stop

You should know by now
It is the biggest
About its bigness
We can't be modest
Such great bigness
Knows no bounds
And casts big shadows
Onto the ground

This mountain is big
There is non bigger
Its cold, so a hat
Is de rigueur
If you were to climb
To its big summit
Don't trip and fall
Or you will plummet

Though I am such
A great songsmith
I could never describe
The mountain's zenith
So big it is
And steep its slopes
To describe such bigness
I have no hopes

Because that mountain
Is really big
Really, really
Really big
( Citizen Cavy Admires your passion for conformity, Sat 13 Aug 2005, 12:49, Reply)