Bad Teenage Poetry

WriterWhile waiting for a video to render, an old copybook caught my eye. I took it down and had a flick through it. It had some school stuff in it, so presumably it’s from when I was seventeen or eighteen. It’s also filled with some attrocious poetry.

WARNING: If you have a nervous disposition, look away now. This stuff is pretty bad.

Good Luck

Experience is not kindly,
Wisdoms a bitter man.
But following life blindly
Seems a much worse plan.

I learn even when I fall.
I use each and every rhyme.
Yet this doesn’t make me tall
Or mend the works of time.

Mistakes are there to be made.
But why is it always me
Who feels the brunt of fortune’s blade
And falls before he can flee?


Night is a happy mistress
For all her faults and flaws.
Though to some she is distress
I never see a cause.

I find silence in her mind;
Secrets with her company.
To her men become blind
And fearful of her secrecy.

I like that pale face
To the Earth she often turns.
For away from day, she is digraced,
but my respect she’s earned.

Fearless Darkness

There’s danger in every dark corner
And malice all around.
Lifht cannot banish the demons.
Menace lives in every sound.

Creeping up behind your back
Is someone you can’t see.
And hands can grab you from places.
You pause, expectantly.

Your breath becomes the meerest whisper,
That roars as a furnace can.
Your heart pounds in your chest
And you can barely stand.

Fear has overcome you.
Beaten your will to live.
You wait for the dark to embrace you
And take more than you can give.

The Bomb

I stood and you stood
As Death came riding by.
He slashed down upon our brood
And let out a weary sigh.
“Many more shall fall today.”
He cackled and rode off.
On the bleak horizon – a ray
Of sun to crop the Earth
Of its tender youth.
Death pointed a willowy finger;
A mushroom cloud arose.
Flinging his cloak around him,
Death’s eyes closed.



On behalf of the management, I’d like to apologise for the attrocious contents of this post.


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