A Teenager's Poetry

Oh joy…today was the day we finally decided to clean out our back room. While we were pretty ruthless in the end, there were still quite a few sentimental items that I was loathe to discard.

It was while browsing through my Yr 11 journal that I got the biggest surprise though, rediscovering a poem that I had written only days after starting school in Adelaide. I would have been 16 at the time.

To be honest I’m not really sure what to make of it, but here goes…

Red-green-blue-psychedelic cats
flying everywhere,
dancing to the beat
of Madonna’s dirty feet.

Clouds of wild boys
laying eggs
a dozen to the beat
of Madonna’s dirty feet.

But blades are often blunt
and boredom sets in quick,
as the big bad pain of
walking in the rain, with bold
feet flying in
arcing circles,
while pigs
soar and drop
syringes by the dirty
Smith family collection bin.

But where in all this tin
is the answer to the
crime of society where
inner emotions rise and
fall like bottle tops on
camel’s humps and
desert sands flying,
stinging, cleansing.

Bizarre hey?!

Interestingly, and kind of disappointing, was the feedback that my teacher provided: