There was a girl- Linda d.B.
Who invited the queen to tea
They had a nice brunch
And afterwards lunch
Too bad they didn't invite me
Here is a poem inspired by our cat at the time, who was my favourite before his untimely demise after he ate a Christmas ornament at a friend's house while we were away. In his life, he was rather a rogue and we were always chasing him around the neighbourhood after he got out yet again. He liked to eat flies and was also named after the dog in "Babe."
Fly
One might think Fly a gentleman
Dressed in a striking black and white suit
Complete with a crooked goatee
But he is a player with mice
And dog antagonist
And a dove killer
Here is a poem I wrote at my best friend's house when I was around seven. I know I wrote it there, because on the back of the page is part of her father's dissertation he was working on at the time. My guess is I wrote it around November 11th, Remembrance day. I also illustrated it with pictures of a blond girl crying, a wounded soldier, a soldier about to kill another soldier, and a grave site with poppies. The illustrations are poorly executed, but rather charming. I spelt remember "remeber," but I fixed that error. At that age, I just thought war was "awfully mean."
War
War is crying
War is pain
Going means
Not going back home again
War is fighting
War is sad
Many die
Some are hurt very bad
People fight to make others free
War is killing
War is death
War is awfully mean to me
Remember war
With poppies red
That grew by the graves
Of many dead.
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