Bad Poems 6

I'm posting some very old poems that I wrote when I was 17 and 18. Some I knew were terrible at the time!

I still like this one. After 20 years it still exactly encapsulates the way I feel at the start of a new relationship!

Broken heart now fully healing,
Deadened senses new set reeling,
Lost emotions again feeling,
Sorrow stealing, armor peeling,
With soft kiss sweet promise sealing.

Leave behind past love’s betraying,
Impulse throughout clear thought playing.
Distrust fades while hope is staying.
Doubt delaying, judgment swaying,
Trust what trusting heart is saying.

Set heart’s battered banner flying.
Take the chance instinct is lying.
No more from emotion shying,
Tears all drying, fear denying,
Love is worth the risk of trying.

Dec 1990

That's it for my old poems. I do have a bunch of old limericks too, but they name people explicitly ("There was a weird nutter called x...") and that's just not cool to post on the internets.

Bad Poems 5

I'm posting some very old poems that I wrote when I was 17 and 18. Some I knew were terrible at the time!

I think I know who this one is about. For the life of me I can't remember anything I had to fight to overcome to be with him... oh well.

Fight the Flood

I always take the easy route
Avoiding stress to hide.
I run before the rushing wind
And ride the changing tide.

Oh, it would be so simple now
To give in to the wave,
To float upon the swirling push
Which tries me to enslave.

But flight would be away from you,
And that I cannot face,
And so I try to turn and stand
To fight the flowing race.

You lean into the mighty flood
And feel your soul ascend:
A kite upon the winds of love,
To reach joy without end.

Nov 1989

Bad Poems 4

I'm posting some very old poems that I wrote when I was 17 and 18. Some I knew were terrible at the time!

Something tells me I was a bit over school in my final year!

The sky’s a clear and pastel blue
With fresh green grass beneath.
The brook’s agleam with sparkle new
Since rain fell on the heath.

Small birds are winging through the air
With happy, laughing cries.
They’re unrestricted, flying fair,
And their joy never dies.

On such a lovely winter’s day,
With frost so soon to come,
It’s really sad we have to stay
In school all cold and glum.

We need to stand beneath the sky
And see the stream adance.
We need to laugh, we need to fly,
Whene’er we have a chance.

Don’t hold us back, don’t weigh us down,
Please set us free to run.
Our childhood’s fading fast and still
You keep us from the sun.

Nov 1989
-----------------------------------------

Here I sit among my peers,
Schoolwork coming out my ears,
I am feeling bored to tears,
How I hate this class.

I just want to sit and sleep,
Education you can keep,
Go and take a flying leap,
How I hate this class.

Here I am slumped in my chair,
For this work I do not care,
This is more than I can bear,
How I hate this class.

I want to get up and flee,
Can’t somebody hear my plea?
All this boredom’s killing me,
How I hate this class.

I am drooping in my seat,
All these facts I must repeat,
Simple problems have me beat,
How I hate this class.

Hear the teacher’s constant bray,
Why must I suffer this way?
From this place I’d gladly stray,
How I hate this class.

Nov 1989
---------------------------------

Teacher

In eyes, piggy behind lenses
Evil fire sputters green.
Snide and nasty looks are sent out
Making her seem more obscene.

Bulging jowls of fat are flapping,
Fishlike mouth a thin, hard line,
Puffy hands are clenched in anger
As she watches for a sign

Of things not as she would have them.
Then she fills her lungs again
Startling bats down from their perches
When she squawks, just like a hen.

No one, you say, could be like this,
You think that I have made it up.
But, I tell you, it’s the pure truth,
Can’t someone please shut her up?

Nov 1989

Bad Poems 3

I'm posting some very old poems that I wrote when I was 17 and 18. Some I knew were terrible at the time!

I think these two are both about a chap I dated briefly in my last year of high school. I'm positive we only snogged (badly), so why he deserved such vitriol I have no idea!

Malicious Verse

When you read this, if you can,
You will discover, nasty man,
That my opinion, you great nit,
Would be hard on a pail of shit.

You gross, slime-minded scummy toad,
So like what’s been smeared in the road,
Your stagnant, reeking, dirty thoughts
Would make a slug feel out of sorts.

Bile rises at the sight of you,
You uninspiring used tissue.
Oh, all in all you have less charm
Than bird droppings on a pig farm.

You’re utterly pathetic when
You try to act as other men:
Yes, all of you from head to toe
Is so repulsive, don’t you know.

Your feeble trying to impress
Makes all respect you even less.
Why don’t you just throw in the towel
Before frustration makes you howl.

I do not like you, you can tell,
So bugger off and go to hell.

April 1989

Ode to a moron

We heard a rumor just last week,
A tale that made us stop and shriek
With laughter, anger, shock and rage,
A story that would stun a sage.

It seems some stupid, macho prick,
Whose sad, self-centered, dumb and thick
Ideas would make a worm think twice
Before he sprung them ‘fore our eyes,

Has been spouting, throughout town,
A boast that proves him such a clown.
He says that at the Social he,
All innocence and purity,

Was pestered, hounded, set upon
‘Til all his patience was quite gone.
It seems that two of his “old flames”
Succumbed to passion and played games

With his emotions, and the night
Soon lost all joy and all delight.
The Social seemed quite drab and grim
With these two hussies chasing him.

He said this to a friend of ours
Who straight collapsed with mirth for hours,
Because she knows, as do we all,
This brain-dead twerp does not hold thrall

O’er either of us two, and we,
Although receiving this with glee,
Were also upset and incensed
At his guy’s cheek and felt most tense.

We then conspired together to
Choose fitting penance just for you
And thus wrote this, so from now on
Do kindly take the hint, moron.

May 1989

Bad Poems 2

I'm posting some very old poems that I wrote when I was 17 and 18. Some I knew were terrible at the time!

This one was written for my best friend in high school. We were inseparable and I would have walked through fire for her. At 19 she cut me out of her life because her boyfriend didn't like me. Bitch.

To Jay

Laughter is infectious, Jay,
I have to crack up when you do.
I see you shake with mirth, and I
Can’t help but giggle ‘long with you.

When you snigger and collapse
I have to laugh until I cry.
It’s not the joke so much, but how
You grin at me and wink your eye.

Thanks for laughing with me, Jay,
It means so very much to me.
I hope you’ll stay forever more
A friend from whom a smile comes free.

Nov 1989

Bad Poems

While reading a recent post by Maleesha, where she posts rediscovered childhood poetry, I remembered that I too had some old poems lying around.

In my final year of school and my first year of art college I was rather into writing poems. I thought they were pretty good at the time. Some of them are really broken-hearted/bitchy stuff about boys - whose names and faces escape me now. Ah, youth - it was all so intense back then. I wouldn't relive my teens and early twenties for anything!

I think I'll post some of these old poems per week, for your amusement!

This is [the only] one that Mom thought was good enough to print out and hang on her office wall:

Hot sun shining in a dazzle,
Splash of brill’ance to the eye.
Gleaming interplay of colours,
Ripples flash beneath the sky.

Green leaves rustle in the treetops,
Branches tossing to and fro;
Roots are tugging, pulling, straining
Deep within damp soil below.

Leaves are falling, twisting, turning
To the water, crystal clear.
Lapping wavelets bear them gently
Where the winds of chance may steer.

‘Neath the shimmer of the surface
Calm does everything enfold.
Light is filtered, soft and soothing,
Dappl’ing forms in green and gold.

Downward, gliding to the lakebed,
All grows dimmer, twilight land.
Tangled in thin strands of plant growth
World of mystery; free, unplanned.

Through this atmosphere of quiet
Eddies sigh their steady way,
Always bending, never breaking,
Life through movement, constant sway.

In this swirling, watchful, silence
Thoughts are loud, ideas whole.
Far away from hate and turmoil
Reach inside and touch your soul.

June 1989


I obviously had a thing about meter. Still do, actually.