Roses are red, violets are purple, and first loves are a reason to give up on poetry and wait for 50% off chocolates… But, who among these nostalgic poets deserves the first box?
This week’s winner is:
I watch you at play time
good on the hopscotch or having a climb
I wonder if we could perhaps have a kiss?
although I’m not really ready for having kids
can you tell me why you girls wear skirts?
and why they call them a blouse and not shirts?
I have lots of questions for girls, you see
and you are one, so that’s alright for me
so I think, for you, I’ve got the hots
even though you have got lots of spots
would you like a share of my gum
that I’ve kept stuck up under my desk?
one thing I’d like to know about you
do you support Liverpool or Man U?
if it’s the Mancs we’ll have to part
I’ll ask Helen instead, she’s a right Scouse tart
Congratulations, Bryntin! You are the most terrible poet of the week!
As usual, everyone’s entries were painful to read. I groaned, cringed, and nearly cried. To help narrow results, I decided to be a stickler for the rules posted and consider those poems that seemed to come from a younger person writing to his/her first crush.
Bryntin’s poem, overall, kept this tone. It sounded like the sort of terrible composition one might put together for an early love. It speaks of hope, love, sports, and curiosity. Well done.
As to the rest, I sincerely hope your past crush never finds and reads these:
Awkward First Crush
by Deb Whittam
I saw you kissing her today,
Yup my best friends, but I know
I’ll forgive you, for you are it,
The one, my love, Ok you’ve
Never spoken to me but
When you do you’ll realize
We’re meant to be together like
Paper and pen,
Sneakers and chewing gum,
Young love and desire.
‘Til then I’ll wait and talk to my
Her, she loves to gossip.
by Annette Rochelle Aben
They tell me not to fall for you
But you’re fine as wine and I wish you were two
My insides are so confused too
Kinda of like, but sorta not, having the stomach flu
©2020 Annette Rochelle Aben
Is This Love?
Fart jokes and burps,
Spitting and slurps,
What’s a girl to do
But sigh, and bury
All those touchy feelings
Those horrible feelings
Those—Oh, wait, another fart joke.
Marvelous, you. Oh, marvelous.
I laugh, we curse,
Smile, we converse
About everything and nothing
Five second rule,
Doesn’t matter. You watch your friend
Hit his head in the locker.
Not a shocker. You laugh,
I roll my eyes, my heart stutters,
Am I in love? Is that what this is?
You wiggle your fingers
You walk like a caveman
With his mouth busted in
By his stupid hands.
Why do boys do stupid things?
Well, they’re boys.
You talk to me,
I say something,
You say something,
Conversation—is that what that is?
Are we talking?
Is this real or a dream?
(Oh god I hope it’s real, please be real)
I remember when I came to your birthday party
and you invited me over to sit with you
and I died. Well it would be more memorable if I did die,
So, I guess I didn’t?
And you turn to me so often
Another fart joke
Diarrhea, the squirts, the squirts,
The worst, the worst. Why does my heart flutter?
Oh, and I returned a pencil that wasn’t yours,
You were confused about that
But I insisted.
I wanted to smack you in the head with my math book,
But that smile made me take another look.
Maybe I’d hit your friend.
And you’d be okay with that, I think,
Because why not, he needs it more than you do.
You flap your hands around
Make a diarrhea sound
From your lips
And then you farted,
Your friend farted,
We all died inside
As the teacher ran to get Febreze;
It was like tear gas, and eggs
In some jelly of horse farts
And sewage from a donkey. I like you, okay?
You’re so weird,
And then I don’t like you. It’s weird.
You’re weird. I’m weird.
So I say nothing and keep this to myself.
My heart sunk when you said you didn’t know what
To do if someone had a crush on you.
Well, I’m right here, darlin’.
But I wouldn’t say that,
So I just nod and agree,
Pretend we understand the world
When we can’t, and alright,
I just, I just like you
Even though your farts are often
And might make me dive in a coffin.
Roses are red
Violets are blue
I really like you
You have tp on your shoe.
My first crush
by Bruce Goodman
You came to help me milk the cows in the cow shed.
We were too busy so nothing much was said.
You called them “dingly-dangly bits”;
I called them “tits”.
(I’m talking about the cow).
My sister said it was unnecessary to do my hair
Before I milked the cows; the cows wouldn’t care.
But I told her there’s someone I’m trying to impress
And it wasn’t Bess.
(Bess was the name of one of the cows).
Anyway you went on to higher things and wealth
And I was left pulling the dingly-dangly bits by myself.
You’ll never know that I had a crush on you
Standing like a goddess amongst the cow poo.
Before and After
by Michael B. Fishman
Dear Miss Peterson,
I love you. You are pretty and you are nice.
I like when you smile at me when I say something in class.
I don’t like when we get homework in school
but I don’t get mad when you give us homework because you are cool.
Thank you for being my teacher and for being pretty and for smiling a lot.
I hope you have a nice Christmas vacation.
Dear Mrs. Kinney,
I wasn’t really sure what it meant when you said you got married
or why your name was changed so when I got home from school
yesterday I asked my mom. She told me all about it and I don’t think
you are very nice. I wouldn’t do that to someone. I don’t love you
anymore and please do not give us kids any more homework.
Brut and Bali Hai
by The Abject Muse
Sometimes when I miss you bad
and I’m feeling really sad
I hitch a ride and go downtown
to the drugstore.
I wander the aisles
until I find, the scent of Brut
so sweet, so fine.
I take a sniff & close my eyes.
I remember your lips
the way they feel
so hot and so unreal
I get a sort of contact high
Cuz you’ve been sipping Bali Hai.
The magical wine
that’s yours & mine
and makes me feel not shy.
I pray to God for me you’ll wait
for the day your friends can’t call me jailbait.
Do you love me, or love me not?
I hope you do because you’re hot.
The Girl With the Cat-eyed Glasses
by Trent McDonald
The girl with the cat-eyed glasses
Stopped by today
Her friend played a folk song
On a guitar
They all sang along
Her teenage smile
Full of age and grace
At my stuttered joke
For a minute I held her huge hand
In my tiny one
I wished I could leave
On a jetplane
With the girl
With the cat-eyed glasses
True story. I always liked older girls. I was 5 and she was 17, you know what I mean? Strangely enough, teenage kids from my parents church would stop by, play a few folk songs and then leave. The girl with the cat-eyed glasses stopped over on her way to the prom and told me she was dressed up because we were getting married. “But I’m too young to marry!” the 4 or 5 Trent protested. She actually wrote an essay about me for her English class. And received an A. My mom still has it. Ah, the girl with the cat-eyed glasses….
i was 5 and she was 6
by Matt Snyder
shall we ?
i grabbed wendy’s hand
we whistfully whisked ourselves down to the nighborhood school playground
look the monkey bars meant for monkeying around
so we did
kiss her, they yelled
kiss her on the lips, they teased
wendy and i just wanted play
play on the monkey bars that day
i was pushed and goaded
go on they said and do the deed
so i pressed both lips boldly against her cheek
they just laughed
no, on the lips the older girl yelled
a real kiss they all squeeled
so we did
then ran home crying as fast as we could
because not all first kisses are always
by Matt Snyder
Wendy i love thee let me count the ways
one, i have liked you since i was 5 maybe even before
we played and played house and with fisher price little people
till we couldn’t play no more
two your bunny thumper is cool thanks for letting me pet him
if we could try some of our own heavy petting (whatever that means)
3 i love your smile and the way you move
and then when we were in the playroom playing lights off lights on
you show me yours I’ll show you mine
till you mom told us to stop turning the lights on and off
but it’s those three
in how i love thee
Dear Miss Flanagan
by Doug Jacquier
I love your
sunburnt brown pretty freckles
shiny beautiful cute red hair
And your green eyes (sorry if
their there not green)
You look just like that film star (can’t remember her name but she’s really pretty, like Doris Day but not her)
I know you catch me staring
And I can’t help going red
Please don’t marry drippy Mr. Smith
Wait for me to catch up.
You Know Who
PS – There really was a Miss Flanagan upon whom I had the biggest crush imaginable and, yes, she was always catching me staring and she really did marry drippy Mr. Smith and broke my heart. Of course I would never have delivered this fawning missive but I would have re-read and ‘edited’ it a lot and hoped she wouldn’t find it in the back of my exercise book.
the world keeps spinning
but what are we searching for
are you the answer?
by Wordifull Melanie
You make me happy
you don’t even have to try
i just look at you and sigh
and I really thought I’d die
when you sat across from me in the lunch room
even though you really only stopped to talk to your sister who is in my home room
when you grabbed my sandwich and took a big bite
I have to say it just felt Right
if you’d only see
You and I are meant to be!
Jackie + Melanie = ❤
by Ruth Scribbles
Petunias are pink
Your brother stinks
My nose twitches
When it itches
You smell good
There’s a girl in my class so shy and so cute
She’s so clever as she can work out a cube root
She the star of athletics team and her name is Anita
Runs for the county as she is as fast as a Cheetah
One day at lunch she came over to talk
I fumbled my words and started to squawk
One hot summers day I found my voice and asked her out in the end
We became good pals but never lovers as she already had a lovely girlfriend
My First Love!
Sue Dorn was more than a thorn,
Across the playground she demanded
My stare, my mouth hanging open
My best gormless look
A magnet to every boy,
Like bees round a honey pot
Like maggots hanging on her every smile.
I dreamt of her at night
My first wet dream
My first scream
What is this girl doing to me?
How to get onto her team.
Thank you for entering! Happy (belated) V-Day, and an even happier Half-Priced Chocolate Day on the 15th!
Please return tomorrow, around 10:00 a.m. MST for next week’s topic.
Bryntin: D. Wallace Peach created this graphic that you can use (if you want) for a badge of honor as the winner:
©2020 The poets and their respective poems