Bad Poetry

Last night I stayed up way too late reading some old journals, Bible study notes, and letters that I found in a box of stuff from before I was married. And one of the things I discovered was a "travel notebook" that I wrote in during car trips to pass the time. If you ever want a really good laugh, read something you wrote as a child! It was highly amusing to see my 12-year-old perspective on life.

On several of the pages were "poems" that I had written...or attempted. Let me just say that while I have been told by other people that I am a good writer, I am NOT good at poetry. Prose has always been my strong suit, but for some reason I keep attempting poetry because writers are supposed to be able to write poems! I am too embarassed to show you any of the poems that I still secretly think have some merit, but these are so terrible, so ridiculous, and so silly that I am willing to sell out my 12-year-old self by posting them. So here you go - feel free to laugh. I did!

Complete with original spelling and punctuation:

"Give me an ear,
so I can tell,
the story of Bob,
who loves to fish,
but he hates to clean um
cause the head's smell
like a rotten egg."

"Flowers here, flowers there,
flowers, flowers....no! I won't say it!
the petels all fell off
so now the flowers cry
for they are most ashamed
because they must admit
only their feathers are fine."

There's a chance Daniella may have written this one, but I will go ahead and post it anyway just so she can share in the fun:
"A woman lives in a lake
her story she will not tell
but I know her cookies taste well
when she does remember to bake."

and finally (please don't forget to breathe through your laughter)

"though I could sail the world around,
visit grand and wondros places,
yet one thing in all would lack,
for I'd miss familiar faces.

the greatness of London,
is dwarfed by my father's heart,
now beautiful are Paris and Venice,
yet compared to my mother they aren't.

However exotic or amusing,
you may find the Taj Mahal,
yet what can compete with my siblings,
of course nothing at all!

And the animals that perform,
in India or Japan,
surely don't love me as well,
as my own cats and dogs can.

So when you consider all..."

And here the poem trails off out of sheer disgust.

Glad to have provided amusement for you today. My 12-year-old self is hiding somewhere with her head in the sand.