Being a teenager at the moment, I'll give you a cracker I wrote recently
I entered it for last year's school poetry competition. Usually it takes me ages to write a poem, but I knocked this one up in 15 minutes. I can only think it must have been divine inspiration.
The genre-defining masterpiece is entitled 'Oscar the Ocillating Ocelot'

He sits in his tree high above the ground
Slowly spinning round and round
He hates to spend his life this way
Swinging to and fro all day.

Sometimes in his cycle he sees his friend
And tries, if he's present, a message to send
"Hi, Fred the Fluctuating Flying Fox-
I'll see you again next crow of cocks!"

His motion, you see, is regular
Round four times a day each day of the year
He meets Fred, due to this, only once a day
Quite some time to think of something to say.

One day he fell out of his tree
Both literally and metaphorically.
His nauseating swaying had driven him mad
The moral of this: oscillating is sad.

Unfortunately this failed to win me the competition, which only goes to show that english teachers don't get everything right.
(WarneMarsh My priority for frivolity begets quality jollity, Thu 11 Aug 2005, 22:26, Reply)