Teenage Poetry
Hormones and rhyming dictionaries seem to go together. Let's celebrate this by publishing the poems you wrote as a teenager.
( , Thu 11 Aug 2005, 14:49)
Hormones and rhyming dictionaries seem to go together. Let's celebrate this by publishing the poems you wrote as a teenager.
( , Thu 11 Aug 2005, 14:49)
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Cake, cake, I love cake
Oh do stop posting entries from www.odps.org/glossword/index.php?a=index&d=3 that you didnt actually write.
here's an original:
Cake
Cake, cake, I love cake,
The finest food that one can bake.
Light jam sponge
or fruit and nut,
I'm never happy if the cake tins shut.
and when your 5th-year english teacher tells you to write a poem about the awful book you've just been forced to read, this is the result:
Calum's Song
I sit beneath your needles, old pine,
You tallest of all trees;
I clamber to your highest branches,
And pick thy cones with ease.
I see you in your summer splender,
As I put the cones into the blender!
Your life will last long after mine,
For I'm a man and you're a pine!
When I work within your peak,
Close to nature and I so meek,
And as I settle for my lunch,
I count your cones and rub my hunch!
It is with remorse that you are felled,
It hurt not you, twas me who yelled,
Cos you fell on my flaming foot!
( , Mon 15 Aug 2005, 12:31, Reply)
Oh do stop posting entries from www.odps.org/glossword/index.php?a=index&d=3 that you didnt actually write.
here's an original:
Cake
Cake, cake, I love cake,
The finest food that one can bake.
Light jam sponge
or fruit and nut,
I'm never happy if the cake tins shut.
and when your 5th-year english teacher tells you to write a poem about the awful book you've just been forced to read, this is the result:
Calum's Song
I sit beneath your needles, old pine,
You tallest of all trees;
I clamber to your highest branches,
And pick thy cones with ease.
I see you in your summer splender,
As I put the cones into the blender!
Your life will last long after mine,
For I'm a man and you're a pine!
When I work within your peak,
Close to nature and I so meek,
And as I settle for my lunch,
I count your cones and rub my hunch!
It is with remorse that you are felled,
It hurt not you, twas me who yelled,
Cos you fell on my flaming foot!
( , Mon 15 Aug 2005, 12:31, Reply)
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