Two poems today; i am unsure of why i like this first one so much, but i do. It's called 'Once upon a time'.

Once upon a time, son,
they used to laugh with their hearts
and laugh with their eyes:
but now they only laugh with their teeth,
while their ice-block-cold eyes
search behind my shadow.

There was a time indeed
they used to shake hands with their hearts:
but that’s gone, son.
Now they shake hands without hearts:
while their left hands search
my empty pockets.

‘Feel at home’! ‘Come again’:
they say, and when I come
again and feel
at home, once, twice,
there will be no thrice –
for then I find doors shut on me.

So I have learned many things, son.
I have learned to wear many faces
like dresses – homeface,
officeface, streetface, hostface,
cocktailface, with all their conforming smiles
like a fixed portrait smile.

And I have learned too
to laugh with only my teeth
and shake hands without my heart.
I have also learned to say, ‘Goodbye’,
when I mean ‘Good-riddance’;
to say ‘Glad to meet you’,
without being glad; and to say ‘It’s been
nice talking to you’, after being bored.

But believe me, son.
I want to be what I used to be
when I was like you. I want
to unlearn all these muting things.
Most of all, I want to relearn
how to laugh, for my laugh in the mirror
shows only my teeth like a snake’s bare
fangs!

So show me, son,
how to laugh; show me how
I used to laugh and smile
once upon a time when I was like you.

Gabriel Okara

I could write an essay including all the poetic techniques displayed in this poem, but i will save you the greif of reading it. Poem two- just because of the date, but also because it is surprising how many people only know the first two lines by heart:

Remember, remember the fifth of November,
Gunpowder Treason and Plot,
I see no reason why gunpowder treason
should ever be forgot.

Guy Fawkes, Guy Fawkes, 'twas his intent
to blow up the King and the Parliament.
Three score barrels of powder below,
Poor old England to overthrow:
By God's providence he was catch'd
With a dark lantern and burning match.
Holloa boys, holloa boys, make the bells ring.
Holloa boys, holloa boys, God save the King!
Hip hip hoorah!

A penny loaf to feed the Pope.
A farthing o' cheese to choke him.
A pint of beer to rinse it down.
A faggot of sticks to burn him.
Burn him in a tub of tar.
Burn him like a blazing star.
Burn his body from his head.
Then we'll say ol' Pope is dead.
Hip hip hoorah!
Hip hip hoorah!

It may be a nursery rhyme, but I can't see children singing the full version of this!

Anyway, me and Lucy decided that in our english lesson, revision was the lesser option, and consequently wrote two poems, based on another two poems.

The first one is based on 'I shall paint my nails red' by Carole Satyamurti. So here goes:

I shall paint my nails black

Because Carol Satyamurti paints hers red.

Because i am a rebel.

Because black has more depth than brown.

Because my mother will be horrified.

Because it is less obvious than black lipstick.

Because it makes my hands stand out.

Because emo society dictates it.

Because it keeps me company.

Because it distracts me.

And I won't write the last line for sanitys sake.

The second poem is based on 'An unknown Girl' by Moniza Alvi. I love this poem, but i we have managed to destroy it completely!

An unknown German

An unknown German

Is filling my shoes

With gravel off the drive

And turf from the lawn.

An unknown German

Is saluting her Fuhrer

With a fake moustache

And a swastika badge.

Posters of the saviour

Slathered on the walls

Pictured on horseback

In a sea of glowing ambience.

An unknown girl bows down.

Hehe! You have to read the original to see the humor, if you even want to call it that!