“Vogon Poetry is widely accepted as the third worst in the Universe. The second worst is that of the Azgoths of Kria. During a recitation by their poet master, Grunthos the Flatulent of his poem, Ode to a Small Lump of Green Putty I Found in my Armpit One Midsummer Morning, four of his audience died of internal haemorraging, but the President of the Mid-Galactic Arts Nobbling Council survived by gnawing one of his own legs off. The absolute worst poetry was written by Paul Neil Milne Johnstone of Redbridge, Essex. Luckily, it was destroyed when the Earth was.”
My great fear of poetry comes from the quote from the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. It is true. Some poems are awful. I don’t want to write awful poetry. But, for my girl, who loves poetry I plan to scrapbook some poems about her. Do Not Say It Is Good If It Is Not!
School with Golden hair and Pink
You weren't afraid to go in the BIG KID school. It wasn't new, not to you. Little sisters know the rule, of what's cool, at that BIG KID school. Except for the PROBLEM with PINK, not purple or blue. That made you think just who were you! And what was she and her friends there too? So that's how we learned what little girls do; when they're together those birds of a feather. But with teachers and Dad, help with amends you were able to be second best friends. In fact you were glad, to bring puppies and bears, sit on the little chairs, playing in the house, listening quiet as a mouse, playing hounds and foxes, having lunch boxes, reading from books, giggling at silly looks, standing in line, and then it was time, when the singing was sung and after zoo fun, all said and done, the year had been won. Now my snug little bug with your flowers in a row, off to grade one my girl you will go.