A genuine poem I wrote aged 8
This one got into the school magazine (although it got edited).

"Brown" by Bob, aged 8
----------------------
Brown is the colour of the garden gate,
Brown is the colour of a sausage on a plate,
Brown is the colour of a 2 pence piece,
Brown is the colour of axle grease,
Brown is the colour of Spanish clickers
Brown is the color of the skidmark on my knickers.

Castanets wouldn't have rhymed.

I had to re-write the last 2 lines for the published version, but the original still hangs on the wall in the staff room of my junior school.
(JaffaMused local in the So.Cal, Thu 11 Aug 2005, 17:19, Reply)

it was simply:
Nowhere
Now and Here
(kaibosh, Thu 11 Aug 2005, 17:14, Reply)

Waxing Lyrical
There was an old woman who lived in a Shoe
She had so many children - Her uterus fell out.

Little Boy Blue
Cos he needed the money.

Mary Mary Quite Contrary
Shave yer fanny its so damn hairy
(hoogie Original Cunt Horse Author, Thu 11 Aug 2005, 17:13, Reply)

I didn't write this but who could forget the great poem
"My son Billy had a ten foot willy
and he showed it to girl next door.
She thought it was a snake
so she hit it with a rake
and now it's only four foot four"
(JaffaMused local in the So.Cal, Thu 11 Aug 2005, 17:12, Reply)

Also

There once was a woman called Heather.
Her cunt was made out of leather.
To attract all the boys,
She made a strange noise,
By flapping the edges together.
(rumandcoke, Thu 11 Aug 2005, 17:12, Reply)

Potatoes
"I am a potato
I live in the soil
I like potatoes they make chips"

Wrote in infants school, I got a sticker with a picture of a mole on for writing it

No, this isn't teenage poetry but I don't care
Childhood poetry is infinitely more entertaining*

*less embarrassing
(Naughty Tortoise, Thu 11 Aug 2005, 17:11, Reply)

Ah, the joys of school!
There was an old woman,
Who lived in a shoe,
She had so many children,
Her cunt fell out.

I thank you.

Usual joke about fruitiness.
(CdrVimes, Thu 11 Aug 2005, 17:10, Reply)

This is the first and last 100% genuine QOTW answer I will ever give:
When I was 17 a friend of mine had a heart attack and died on the toilet.
I tried to deal with my emotions by writing a poem.
I am ashamed to say that this is the best I could manage:

I knew a girl
Who had a whirl
Right on the fucking shitter.

Under her vest
Cardiac arrest.
No wonder I'm left bitter.
( baldmonkey a frothy foul-smelling vaginal discharge, Thu 11 Aug 2005, 17:10, Reply)

Mrs. Smith
I truly love you, Mrs. Smith,
Your each and every feature.
I know my feelings are all wrong
'Cause you're my English teacher but
It seems to me, from what you say
And sometimes what you do,
That even though you know it's wrong
You share those feelings too.

I sometimes see you glance at me
Out from behind your book.
And when I glance right back at you
It's more than just a look. It's more
A fiery, rampant, lustful glare,
Your eyes like golden coins.
I start to feel a stirring in
My prepubescent loins.

I want you there! I want you then!
Who cares for social scruples?
I'd gladly bang you on the desk
In front of all the pupils but
You're right. It's not the time nor place
For such things to occur.
But there's a girl right next to me.
Instead I'll finger her.

The things I'd like to do to you
I really should not mention.
But let's just say, if I was bad
And wound up in detention I'd
Be there at 3, right on the dot
And sitting at the front,
To try and look right up you skirt
And see your lovely, glistening, well-maintained thatch.

Alas, I fear these fantasies
Will only act as fuel for
My dreams, although I'm big and strong
And I'm hung like a mule because
Although I'm fairly grown up and
I know what shagging is,
It isn't gonna happen soon;
I'm still too young to jizz!
(stusut79, Thu 11 Aug 2005, 17:09, Reply)

On the lavatory wall
at a place I once worked that we shared with a printing firm staffed by young oiks.

"Nothing could be nicer
than licking a vagina"

I'm sure he should has written "finer" (to make it rhyme) rather than "nicer", but the teenage neandethal printer tosspot fucked it up.

*I did rather like the message above the toilet roll holder though "Nottingham Forest Season Ticket Dispenser", complete with arrow :)
(JaffaMused local in the So.Cal, Thu 11 Aug 2005, 17:09, Reply)

My fish
I wrote this when I was 5 so it is slightly off topic:

I had a little fish
that swam around in a tank.
Round and round and round it swam
round and round and round.
I loved my little fish
that swam around in a tank.

Quite moving in its simplicity I think.
( browser still relating boring anecdotes into a void on, Thu 11 Aug 2005, 17:06, Reply)

Lake District Hell
Written by me and my best friend Vicki after we fell in love with some twat on an adventure holiday aged 14.

LD, you are so great,
You could be served on a dinner plate.
You make us both hyperventilate.
LD, our meeting was fate.


LD was the twat in case that code was too difficult to break.

Vicki - what the hell was wrong with us?
(rumandcoke, Thu 11 Aug 2005, 17:05, Reply)

This ditty just HAD to rhyme...
Tra la la la la
I just got a new guitar
I bought it very far
All the way from Exe...tar...

[Exeter]

*sigh* I was happy.
(therocker, Thu 11 Aug 2005, 17:05, Reply)

Hmmm. Taste the bitterness...
Polo and Racing, and Eventing
It’s all about the same thing
Girls riding horses in the paddock
All because they like faaat
Wallets and it’s the place to find them
Champers and hampers, Tweed not denim.
Hoity toity all ra ra
I’m the mo-fo croquet mastar.

Toff they say but it doesn’t bother me
Because I’ve got a quiff and an Audi TT
Come over and visit my flat in Chelsea
I’ll show you my land-management degree

What I’m saying by way of this rhyme
Is let’s get together, your place or mine.
Mine’s a modest flat not very spatial
Don’t worry, I’m joking- it’s f#&king palatial
Check out the threads- my tweed’s from Hackett
It already looks dated but it costs a packet
Daddy worked hard to keep granddad’s money
Now I blow it in wine bars trying to get honeys.

Toff they say but it doesn’t bother me
I’m aunt Susie’s beneficiary
Squash with Piers and golf with Bob
Where do I have time to fit in a job?

I hope you can see what I’m telling you
That you could enjoy this lifestyle too.
Come on, come over, come on in
Soon we’ll have you on the gin
Sitting round the house doing f#&k all
Arranging the next charity ball
A trophy wife to have by my side
That I can trade in when your looks start to slide.
(Scoobs, Thu 11 Aug 2005, 17:04, Reply)

Written 9 years ago when I was 18

Silken shadows and sensuous sighs,
A flash of fire and quicksilver eyes.
A glimpse of flesh, the taste of sweat.
Whispered passions and promises kept.
Limbs entwine and hearts are won,
The two combine and both are one.

and actually I still quite like it :)
( Fenris temporary Lazarus, Thu 11 Aug 2005, 17:00, Reply)

not so much a poem as a song
I WANT COFFEE
I WANT COFFEE
I WANT COFFEE
I WANT COFFEE

© me, aged 15

.. played loudly on a badly tuned electric guitar

it was called "The Coffee Song", and it was quite melodic with its G/C/D chord progression


oh.. and hormones? well everybody knows that if you dip your cock in coffee, it tastes nicer to the laydeez
( Reckless_Rik, Thu 11 Aug 2005, 16:59, Reply)

Some sort of over-long depressed pseudo-haiku...
"I could solve
Quite a lot
Of my life's
Problems here
On this short
Harbour bridge.
I could make
It all go
Away with
Just one step
Forwards."
16
( no cake for the impuritay Patrick Stewart hasn't aged since, Thu 11 Aug 2005, 16:56, Reply)

I didn't write this - one of my students read it at our show

My.............name..........is..............Jane.

I.............am.............in.............the............slow.............readers'.............group.
( Pachey, Thu 11 Aug 2005, 16:54, Reply)

Ladies and Gentlemen....
...I give you the classic - Cadbury Avenue!

Nice and round just like a peach
Grasping hard but just can't reach
Belly button nice and deep
You make me think of Meryl Streep

With my finger nice and purt
Raff (wtf???) my willy
Make it hurt

Now that you have drank my milk
I feel like flopping out

I wipe my willy on your curtain
I've touched your shit now that's for certain
Your tits are flopped out in plain view
Take it one more time up Cadbury Avenue.


Worringly, I recorded this and let others listen. I'm glowing red now just typing it.
( Evil Bastardo, Thu 11 Aug 2005, 16:54, Reply)

This nugget of inspiration was carved into the wall of a sauna I was in once
Black men is bigger!
(Peelmytangerines, Thu 11 Aug 2005, 16:53, Reply)

What was I thinking..?
"Simon Sasquatch went to town
With his trousers painted brown.
He looked very silly but
It expressed his individualism."

15
( no cake for the impuritay Patrick Stewart hasn't aged since, Thu 11 Aug 2005, 16:52, Reply)

school tables

i woz ere
ere i woz
woz i ere
yes i woz
(muyk, Thu 11 Aug 2005, 16:49, Reply)

Not mine and not teenage... Meh...
There was a young lady from Hawes
Whose genitalia was covered in sores
Even the dogs in the street
Wouldn't eat the green meat
That hung in festoons from her drawers.
(ColdLazarus, Thu 11 Aug 2005, 16:49, Reply)

Not me, I hasten to add
A rather odd guy in the year below me at school (the sort who, after the massacre everyone would describe as "quiet") once penned and performed this poem in assembly, as a sort of rap.


My name's Mossy and I live in a tree
Would you like to go
shopping with me?

We could buy Domestos,
Something to eat.

Just give me ten pence,
Down on the street.



To this day I have no idea what the fuck he was on about.
( Shrub Rocketeer is a twisted emotional husk, Thu 11 Aug 2005, 16:45, Reply)

I won a poetry comptetion with this,
On the event of the Queen Mother's 95th birthday.

Ode to Lillibet
Fucking hag,
Colostomy bag.
( butchbint, Thu 11 Aug 2005, 16:43, Reply)

I still like my poem now
I said nice one sorted pukka sound
I'll do you an E for fifteen pound
I said nice one sorted pukka sound
Pop this baby you'll be of the ground
I said nice one sorted pukka chill
Can you sort me out with another pill
'cause if you wat it
I've got it
and I'm always around
I'll do you an ounce for fifty pound
I went to a rave
Got outta my face
I did ketamine
It was fucking ace
Fuck me man you're really hardcore
I can tell from here
You know the score



It's not the length that matters,
but how hard you can splatter.

Sorry/coat
( The Awful Puppy Bakery is still bored, Thu 11 Aug 2005, 16:42, Reply)

Heard this in a movie
Roses are red
Violets are blue
I'm a schizophrenic
And so am I
( Spunk Murphy Tchaikovsky is a synonym for fanny, apparently, Thu 11 Aug 2005, 16:41, Reply)

Martin.
Martin was a fat man
Who ate a lot of pies
Martin was a fat man
One day Martin died
...of heart failure.

*applause*
(mrmistoffeles, Thu 11 Aug 2005, 16:39, Reply)

Not mine but a friends....
Gristle Gristle Gristle,
Up my mummys whistle

He really doesn't write them like he used to.
(Hippisley, Thu 11 Aug 2005, 16:35, Reply)