In honor of World Poetry Day let me take you way back in time, to when you wrote your first poem.
My First Poem
Now class! Describe for me a flower, in poetry or prose.
A flower? Thought I, as I scratched my head and wrinkled up my nose.
I want to write of games of tag, or baseball I suppose.
I want to write of slimy frogs and slimy frog like toes.
I want to write of dragon’s fire and damsels full of woes!
A flower? What can be said of flowers hasn’t already been told?
A flurry of scratching my ears do hear, of pens to paper from the rear
And scratch scratch scratching on their paper is all that I can hear.
And blank and white my book will remain; now this is what I fear.
And then a small clear bead of sweat goes trickling by my ear.
I remembered then my gift of flowers that my mother held so dear.
That drop of water on my cheek like her single heartfelt tear.
“A rose is cald a rose cause that’s the culur that you sea.
It shud be cald a love cause that is surlie what will bee.”
And that is what was handed in that faithful gloomy day
I tried to write some more but that was all I had to say
When class was over teacher came to see if I could stay
She probably thought I was making fun and now I’d have to pay
She said my poem was something that had really made her day
And then she smiled a teary smile and sent me on my way.