The entries for the sick poets competition have been trickling in and below are the entries written by poets aged between 13 and 16. The poems by these older authors show increasing complexity and verbal facility, though not always maturity!
by Anuradha Rao
“There were five cookies in this jar
And now there are none
I know they are your favourite…”
“Mum, I didn’t have even one!”
(Next morning in school)
“Mum, I’m telephoning you from school
As I want to come back home
My stomach’s making the weirdest noises
I’ve contracted five-cookie-syndrome!”
(At home that afternoon)
“I won’t touch another cookie,
Let’s visit the doctor - quick!
I’m going to puke, I’m going to faint
I’M GOING TO BE SICK!!
I'm Anuradha Rao and i'm 15 years old. I live in Chennai, Tamil Nadu, India. I love writing poems, and I came across this competition on your website only yeesterday. Though the deadline was 2 days ago, i was really inspired by the theme, thanks to which i've written a poem titled Five-cookie-syndrome! It is attached to this mail, and i'll be really grateful if you accept my entry, even though i'm a little late! Anuradha's poem arrived on 2nd November and I'm happy to include it both because its excellent and it's author is clearly passionate about writing poetry.
Death & Destruction
by Hollie Harris
Caused by this virus.
The bodies of the dead,
Chewing flesh & biting people’s heads.
Fire & flames don’t stop this spread.
Everyone around me are falling dead.
The blood is filling the dark seas of this stupid planet.
Nothing will stop this virus but a single bullet to the brain,
This virus is too strong it will not let the human kind win this war.
The Earth is slowly becoming hell on the surface and no one can stop the virus.
This poem is by Hollie, aged 15 of Meadowhead School, Sheffield. I might accuse Hollie of not reading, or perhaps understanding, the instruction that The poem can be about really being ill, or pretending to be ill, or about any aspect of sickness, disease or death that takes your fancy. However you approach the subject, the resulting poem should be funny. However, as I've not had to reject any poems this year, I've included Hollie's as well. It's quite an interesting poem, but it seems to have wandered into the wrong competition.
We have to do a test at school
by Natasha Kotadia
We have to do a test at school, and I don’t know what to say!
I need to give my mum an excuse, to keep me off school today
I’ll tell her I have a bit of cough and I’m always having to sneeze
I’ll tell her I have a runny nose and I’ve caught a deadly disease
I’ll tell her I have a stomach ache and that my throat is really sore
I’ll tell her I’ve ran into the bathroom and puked all over the floor
I’ll tell her I have an awful cold and my fingers are turning blue
I’ll tell her I have a horrible fever and I frequently go to the loo
My alarm went off, but I didn’t get up I just snuggled into my bed
I faked a few coughs, a couple of sneezes and put an ice-pack on my head
As my mother came in, I told her my lies and I faked a pitiful weep
She giggled and laughed “Its Sunday you fool! Now go on back to sleep!”
My Name is Natasha Kotadia, I'm 13 years old and I live in Leicester, England. Honestly...I can't remeber when i wrote the poem, it was quite a long time ago...I'd say a couple of months. I hope you like it! Thank you, Natasha, for a really good and very funny poem - I'm an absolute sucker for a poem with a twist in the tail.
Oh my! Where the hell has gone my fitness..
No music… no Jazz….
Just this sickness like an ass….!
No good food on the menu…
Just the soda water and you!!!
No TV..! NO FLICKS…
Just sleeping around like 1yr babies..
NO WANDERINGS.. NO HANGOUTS..
NO GAMING…ALL BLACKOUTS…
Its damn pesky…
Without any donald’s and mickey’s…
How can one only rest!! rest!! rest..?
All when outside is a delicious fest..
Oh.. God plz.. bless!! bless!! Bless..
Say NO-NO to sickness & YES-YES to fitness
Hi. my name is Aanya and i am 15 yrs old and i am from India.Writing poems is a great experience and i am sending my own creation. Thank you, Anya, I really enjoyed your poem, as I'm sure will all our readers.
I'm Not Fit for School
by Abigail Weinstock
I’m not fit to go into school today
I’m not fit to be in school today
I can’t go into school today
Don’t force me into school today
You’re fit to go into school today
You’re fit to be in school today
You can go into school today
I’ll force you into school today
I’m fit to burst from chocolate and sweets,
Fit to collapse from ice cream and treats
I’m fit to be sick from biscuits and cake,
Fit to turn into a chocolate milkshake
I’m fit to be ill from all of this drool,
Fit to miss a day of school
I’m fit to lie in bed all day,
Fit to miss the maths test today
An excellent poem by Abigail, who is 14 and lives in London. I particularly liked the couplet I’m fit to burst from chocolate and sweets, Fit to collapse from ice cream and treats, although I'm struggling to imagine what it would be like to turn into a chocolate milkshake - quite discombobulating, I should imagine!
I can't come into school today
by Emma Steel
I cant come in to school today,
Due to my Ant being very ill,
I cant come into school today,
My elephants on a pill,
I can’t come into school today,
My spiders got the flu,
I can’t come into school today,
My giraffe is turning blue!
I can’t come into school today,
Because my cow has diarrhoea,
I can’t come into school today,
My horse is drunk from beer!
My family are not well,
They need me at home,
I’ve not prepared my show and tell,
But ill make one up using the garden gnome!
I wrote this poem today and spent all my time on it. Hope you like it. ps. i love your website loads!! wrote 13 year old Emma from England. It's a great poem, because it takes an unfamiliar slant on an all to familiar theme - missing school due to illness - and this absurdity makes the whole things very, very funny.
They say I'm sick
by Palvisha Khan
Patiently, I wait until the sky is coloured with darkness
Before slipping away from my parents’ watchful eye,
And into the endearing world outside my front door.
12:15, I cut it so close my heart beats erratically.
I look through the window with a Cheshire grin,
At my entertainment for the night.
I stare joyfully at Mrs. Fuhnee in her sequined and spangled leotard,
As she moves with grace to the music.
She spins, she sways, she even attempts the splits!
Then a voice comes, one with outrage and disgust.
Little Sally from next door sneaks up behind me,
And screams “You’re sick!”
My name is Palvisha Khan and I am 16 years old. I wrote this poem early today, 25/10/09, when I came across your competition. I live in the United Kingdom. Attached you will find my poem "They say I'm sick". To be honest, I struggled with keeping under 16 lines! It was constantly over but I cut it down eventually! I hope everyone enjoys reading it.
Palvisha's poem is clever, concise (that pesky 16 line rule), funny and, in many ways, brave. It takes an original and slightly unexpected approach to the 'sick' theme and really keeps you guessing to the end. I think the result is brilliant and, I must confess, it's the one poem in the competition that I wish I'd written myself.
Trying to stay off school
by Eleanor Smith
i said to my mum that i had a cold
she looked at me curiously and her arms did fold
i said seriously and she looked into my eyes
and she believed me, that was a surprise
so i smiled at myself, i have fooled her once again
but little did i know it began to rain
i was stuck indoors for the rest of the day
what was i going to do, what was i going to play
then my mum came in and said "i thought you were sick"
"or are you trying to pull another little trick"
well i'm dead meat now i thought i am such a fool
"you should of thought about that before you tricked me, next time your going into school"
Eleanor lives in Newcastle and is 16 years old. I really enjoyed her poem and the amusing 'biter bit' twist in the tail.
by Iram Bi
Mournful is my heart as it grieves
Father doesn’t seem to understand what I saw in the eyes of Steve’s.
I’m in bed, crawling for survival
Foreseeing my ex, my arch rival
Breaking my heart at sixteen
For a girl called Christine Colleen.
His smile which lit the whole town
Is the only reason why I’m down.
Wriggling, twisting, groaning that’s all I did
Pondering in thoughts on the well – being of my mother in Madrid
Friends of mine sit comfortably on my bedside
Bang! School isn’t over, yet on my door a knock from an ex.
As I vanished under my sheet
I admitted to my defeat.
I shouldn’t have kissed the best friend of Steve.
Oh, how heart broken now I shall be.
Iram is 16 years old and lives in Peterborough. She says that her poem is about a girl who has been dumped by her boyfriend recently and is feeling a little blue, but professes that she really prefers writing short stories. I thought that 'Mournful Heart' shows that Iram has great potential as a poet; the opening line was amongst the best I've read.
by Tanya Erbacher
The way her petals fall,
It brings a tear to eyes,
And when winter comes,
We have to say our good-byes.
As beautiful as the summer rays beam,
Like the dress that has been loved to pieces
That only needed a changed seam
This beautiful flower
Has now shown her true power
But it’s too late and the suns so hot
Her petals have been sadly devoured
But the next flower
To come along
Will be even more beautiful
As evolution cannot be wrong!
Tanya lives in Australia and sent quite a lengthy email to accompany her beautiful and thoughtful poem. I'm reproducing it in full, as it embodies the sentiments shared by many other young poets who have entered the competition.
My name is Tanya and writing poems is a wonderful experience i know, that most teens don't even get the chance to have.
I am 14 years old and i absolutely love writing poems. My poems are hung all around my room and whenever i do something bad my mum threatens to take them down. My inspiration comes from deep within, and my past has a huge impact. I love spending time with family and most of the time my poems reflect that.
I live in a small community and my english teacher is wanting me to enter your competition. (he's looking over my shoulder as i type) This poem i am sending you was a class project that i created in less then 10 minutes. My mum calls me her little shot of life, cause my fingers and brain work so quick.
The poem is about a rose that is suffering from the suns sickness and in the end evolution will make it an even more beautiful flower...
by Susan Brigham
It’s that time of year,
When Christmas is near,
And those deceased leaves begin to fall.
My nose sees,
That that blustery breeze,
Has brought up quite a strong squall.
My nozzle turns bitter,
It’s such a quitter,
And starts to block itself up.
It’s tip turns red,
I go to my deathbed,
And nozzle leaks green syrup.
I sniff and blow,
Wiping up the green flow,
I lay filled with dread...
...On my deathbed.
by Susan Brigham
I know people, who have lost the fight,
Their last few days would have been such a fright,
The Monster looms, there’s more than 200 types,
One in three receive a bite.
I know people and they are still fighting,
Their future is constantly rewriting,
Breast, lung, bowel and prostate,
The monster decides everyone’s fate.
Clawing at loved ones, they gather around,
Tears are rolling - there is no sound,
The Monster takes over without any permission,
More often than not it completes its mission.
Where is the cure? – Well, there is no answer
Because that Monster is the unforgiving Cancer.
Two poems by Susan Brigham, who's 16 and lives in England. The first poem is humorous, the second very dark in tone. However, both poems exhibit a extraordinarily mature use of language and imagery. And those deceased leaves begin to fall is just one of many examples of such verbal felicity in these well crafted poems.
by Bethany Hamer
My maths test is tomorrow, oh no I "forgot" to revise.
There's only one thing left to do - to tell a bunch of lies!
I'll tell my mum I'm ill, so I'll not have to go into school,
but I'll make it look realistic, that's the "fake ill" rule.
I'll gather all the things I need, to make myself look sick,
only one day to sort it out, I really must be quick!
So I put lipstick on my face in hope that it looks like pox,
added panstick to look pale, I'm as quick and as sly as a fox!
blue ink on my lips makes me look cold, no quilt on my bed makes me shiver,
now I'm ready to test it out, so I shout "Mother, come hither!"
She sees my face and looks distressed, I say "I think I'm ill."
She nods her head then tells me "We'd better see Doctor Bill."
Oh great, I'm stuck in a trap now, I'll have to go along,
"I'm too sick to go" I try to say, but mum says "It wont take long."
So in the car, I rack my brains, no ideas but to confess,
as I open my mouth I puke over mum, I feel ill, but yes, success!
Bethany's email said, Hi, I wrote this poem today (the 12th september 2009) about an hour ago. It took me around 15 - 20 minutes and I thought I'd have to enter it in this competition! My name is Bethany Hamer, I'm 13 years old, I live in Cumbria in England and I love writing poetry! It was quite hard to make being ill funny, but I hope I succeeded! Thanks for reading! Well Bethany, I thought the poem was very funny. However, I'm not sure whether your mother would be more upset by the imperious tone in which you say 'Mother, come hither!' or being puked on. Perhaps you should ask her!
My Smiling Doctor
by Gwendoline Hay
My head is hotter than the earth's core
It's pounding and my throat is sore
My body hurts and i can't walk
My sis says it's a miracle to not hear me talk
The doctor smiles and takes my hand
There, there, he says, i understand
Just when i think he'll keep me from harm
He sticks a whopping great needle into my arm
The blood test results will be back today
Says he and still smiling he walks away
I'm carted off to a hospital bed
Mum can't i go home instead?
The nurse thinks it's serious, i start to cry
I tell God I'm too young to die
Then doctor skips in with a smile on his face
"Congrats it's dengue! A positive case!"
'My Smiling Doctor' was sent in by Gwendoline from Malaysia, who is 15 years old. I wrote this poem off the top of my head for fun, a few months after i recovered from dengue. I think its an excellent poem, written from the heart and with the gentlest touch of humour, which is often more effective in poetry than being LOL funny.
A Big Pill
by Lydia Sharpe
I went to the doctors,
I was feeling ill
and he prescribed a great big pill,
It was so big,
it was so thick
it was just as fat as a hairy pig.
I couldn't quite fit it down
so I grumbled and I frowned
Still I feel quite Tom and Dick!
I really think I will be sick
Another Sick Poets entry taking the sick theme all too literally. A Big Pill is by Lydia who lives in the UK and is 14 years old.
Swine flu blues
by Carrie White
I don’t want to ‘boar’ you
But my temperature’s real high;
My throat feels like shards of glass
Have dropped in from the sky!
My limbs ache so badly
My tongues all dry and thick
And OMG muuummm
I’m going to be sick.
Carrie, who is 13 and lives in Beckenham, Kent sent the following explanation with her poem, I had swine flu in July this year, and wrote this afterward. Poems written from personal experience have an immediacy and legitimacy that is sometimes hard to conjure up when writing about imagined subjects. Carrie's brilliant poem really strikes a chord with me, as I had swine flu in August. And yes, it was quite as horrible as Carrie describes it.
by Lizzie Oakley
I’m coming down with an ancient bug,
Everyone’s had it, young and old,
Wobbling knees, churning stomach,
Its nothing I’ve been told.
No coughs or sneezes or being sick,
More of an ache or rash,
Its comes disguised and it bubbles your brain,
From fine to confused in a flash.
You try to tell someone,
But its just too hard, you know that its all down to you,
There are none of the tablets, none of these pills,
Your bodies just simply not immune.
I’ve definitely come down with an ancient bug,
You’ve probably had it too,
I like to call it the love bug,
An illness that’s hard to fight through!
Lizzie is 14 and has tackled one of the great poetic themes - Love - with considerable mastery. A really enjoyable poem and a refreshingly different take on the sickness theme. Well Done.
My Friend Leech
by Alexandra Whitehead
I visted the beach,
and met a friend leech,
but at the end of the day,
I left him a unpleasnt speach.
He went behind my back,
and bite my leg,
what was all sore,
and painfully red.
We went to the doctors,
the next following day,
they gave me some medicine,
to take twice a day.
But that was last year,
and I'm all better now,
I've moved on since then,
but that did hurt , OW.
My name is Alexandra Whitehead. I'm 13 Years old and I wrote my poem up on Tuesday 11th August 2009. I live in Milton Keynes in England. A charming and gently amusing poem about an encounter with a leech, which I very much enjoyed.
Please Miss Let Me Go Home!
by Aimee Gray
Miss, I bumped my head ,
Miss I need my bed ,
See , my nails have got the flu ,
(I painted them bright blue),
And my hair is all a fuzzy,
It ate a little buzzy,
Bee, it really isn’t funny
My hands dissolved my money
I’ve got silver in my blood stream
And my hair is like a bad dream
Miss please send me home
(I’m getting a new phone)
And I know you think I’m joking
So ill give you a good poking
AND I’ve got a doctors note
(that REALLY I wrote!)
Aimee, who is 13 and lives in Sutton, England, has sent in this really excellent rhyming poem which is rather more complex than it at first seems - splitting buzzy bee over two lines shows true poetic talent.
I Love School
by Abigail Weinstock
The doctor told me I was ill
It was confirmed and all
But I couldn’t lie in bed alone
And miss a day of school
I put an ice cube on my head
So that my temperature fell
I coloured my skin in its usual colour
And told them I was well
They sent me in to school at once
And can you imagine my shock
When I saw an empty room of desks
That were usually chock a block
My teacher came and spoke to me
"I’m so glad to hear you’re better,
The rest of the school has phoned in sick
So we’ll have lessons together."
Abigail is 14 years old and lives in England. Abigail's poem I Love School takes the convention of funny poems about school absence and turns it completely on its head, to great comic effect.
There's something crawling in my tummy!
by Annabelle Simpson
Mummy! There's something crawling in my tummy!
It's wriggling and giggling... Ahh! Pass me my dummy!
What should I do? Go for a poo?
Hey! Don't laugh, it isn't crawling in you!
You might think it's funny, but you're wrong
Please wormy, crawl back to where you belong!
Stop feeding on my left-over dinner
God damn you, wormy, you sinner!
I'll do what I can to get you out
You're not staying in my stomach, I have no doubt!
Go feast on someone else's tummy
Or you'll be hearing from my mummy!
Just wait until I need the loo
You'll be flushed, and your days will be through
Help me, I'm scared! Come quickly, mummy
There's something crawling in my tummy!
This poem was written by Annabelle who is 13 years old. This poem despite being very graphic is well written indeed. Congratulations!
I don't feel at all healthy today
by Evie Dwyer
I don't feel at all healthy today,
No, I don't feel well at all,
I still haven't done that English essay,
And tonight I have basketball.
I'm in a lot of pain,
My back is really sore,
We were meant to look up acid rain,
And the civil war.
I feel a burning in my chest,
And my mouth tastes really bitter,
Today there is a maths test,
And tonight I'm the babysitter.
Oh it is such shame,
That I have to stay at home in bed,
The teachers will have no one to blame,
They will have to pick on someone else instead!
My name is Evie Dwyer, I'm 14 and from the West Midlands. I wrote this tonight, it took me around 15 minutes and as soon as I found out about this competition I decided I had to have a go. This is a really sophisticated poem by Evie. Very well done!
Catch a Cold and Pass it on
by Nneka Cummins
I feel as if I’ve caught a cold,
Achoo, Achoo, Achoo,
Although I’m sick,
I’m going to school,
To pass it onto you!
My nose is red,
My throat is sore,
My forehead’s boiling hot,
Mum told me to stay inside
But oops, I just forgot.
Six days later I’m ok,
Horray, horray horray,
But half my class,
Are sneezing now,
I had a productive day!
A fantastic and very well structured poem by Nneka, who is 16. Perhaps I'm going to have to increase the upper age limit next year, otherwise we'll miss out on such talent.
by Ankita Saxena
My toe’s got a blister bigger than my sister-
I hope it’s not a brother- got a bite mark from the other,
Now its bleeding buckets and my sprained hand can’t endure it-
Now I’ve got Septicaemia from my plaster wearing phobia,
Which is biologically linked to Asthma and several-dayed diarrhoea,
Now I’ve got high blood pressure, from the surprise of that boisterous creature,
Now I’m suffering mild heart disease- and the syndrome of constant shaking knees,
Now I’ve got an anaphylactic shock from being allergic to his smelling socks,
Now I’m going to die, from not giving my brother a toy!
An excellent poem by Ankita Saxena, who is 13 year olds and live in England. My favourite line is undoubtedly Which is biologically linked to Asthma and several-dayed diarrhoea.
I Have A Stupid Cold
by Curtis Ambrose
I’m coughing and sneezing,
I have a stupid cold.
I’m getting stiff and achy;
it’s as if I’m getting old!
Mum takes me to the doctors;
he says I’m going to die.
Mum drags me out the room in anger,
but i don’t know why!
She gives me horrible medicine,
its making me go bold.
I’m having all this trouble
‘cos i have a stupid cold!
Hey, my name is Curtis Ambrose, I'm 13 and I live in England. I wrote this poem today (6th July 2009) and it just came out of my head! I had no help at all and just made it quickly, but I'm quite impressed. Haha. Another natural talent!
When I Am Ill
by Cymoni Foster
When I am ill, I’m given a pill,
But when my brother is ill, he commands at will.
Now how is this fair, I beg to enquire?
As he lies snugged up in front of the fire.
It’s just a cold mom replies, but he needs lots of fluid,
Anyone would think he was a long lost Druid.
The care and attention that’s piled on him,
The goodies he gets on a single whim.
It’s so very annoying to say the least,
I can’t remember the last time I had such a feast.
There is ice cream and pop for his temperature,
For goodness sake, how immature.
So I drop on the floor in a great big heap,
Pretending to faint but with one eye I peep.
Expecting a reaction, a scream so shrill,
But all I get is my mom with a pill.
A poem about sickness and sibling rivalry by Cymoni Foster, who is 14 years old and lives in the Republic of Ireland. Cymoni wrote My poem is attached. I hope you like it because it is true! I wrote it this week but I have been thinking about this for some time. You'll find that Cymoni's brother own poem, entitles Ahg, paints a slightly different picture of being ill, although he does admit to being pampered!
You Can't Send Me to School Like This
by Chelsea Hammond
Mum you can't send me to school like this,
My lips are green and untouchable to kiss,
My mouth is wet, My throat is dry,
I'm sure I'm going blind in my right eye,
I cough and sneeze and gasp and choke,
I can't even drink my glass of coke!
Mum I need a blanket I'm freezing to death,
Oh no mum I need some water to refreshen my breath!,
I feel like napping but when I wake up,
The dog is licking me that stupid pup.
I've gone dizzy my heads spinning round,
Then my mum plays her music what a sound!
My head's aching my heart's thumping,
I can feel the blood being pumping,
I've still got school tomorrow.
Chelsea Hammond, Age 13, from England has sent in this poem which again tackles the twin themes of sickness and school.
I Stubbed My Pinky Toe...
by Bianca Lyeighmarah Walker
I stubbed my pinky toe last night,
and how it gave me a fright,
hopping up and down the stairs,
wiping away the tears.
Mother said "Be quiet now,
that squealing is so foul",
I jumped around, cried and frowned,
trying not to make a sound.
I then looked down at my pinky toe,
to see what it would show,
Oh no, oh no, oh no,
where did my pinky toe go.
With only four toes I could not walk,
my foot was like a metal fork,
I sniffled and snuffled, wiped away the tears,
as I had just slept, one of my biggest fears!
A poem contributed by Bianca Lyeighmarah Walker, aged 15, from the UK. A wonderful name and a wonderful poem, although the accompanying email which said I just wrote this from the top of my head, right now leaves one feeling impressed and distinctly jealous.
by Morgan Lieberman
Numbers and letters always get me queezy
Equations and war history brings back sneezy
Gossip and rumors catches my head in a whirl
Running sprints for a grade never suits a whiny girl
Hives of students attack in the hall
Dizziness and nausea heads up my throat to them all
The tick and tock of the school clock
Aches my head like the smell of a dirty pungent sock
After school dances and hang out hits
The cliques and the gangs give me painful fits
Can this peculiar case ever be cured
Allergic to school is tremendously obsurd?
A very sophisticated school poem by Morgan Lieberman, Age 14, from the United States. And yes, the poem really does conclude tremendously obsurd? (sic). A sic sick poet!
I've Got a Boil on My Bum
by Georgia Rice
I've got a boil on my bum
and it's getting really red and round
i'm scared my mum will pop it
cause i'll make more than just a sound!
I've got a boil on my bum
and now its turning blue!
it's showing through my knickers
i'm afraid,what shall I do?
I've got a boil on my bum
mum says i've got to hold steady
she's got me on her lap now,
sharp needle at the ready
Come on bum boil!
i've had ENOUGH now
A slightly less sophisticated, but very funny poem by Georgia Rice, who is 13 and lives in England. Georgia attends a very posh private school, but to save her blushes I won't tell you which - unless of course she wins.
Worth it for the Sleep
By Ellie Clark
My appendix started rumbling
It was hurting such a lot
But when I got to hospital
They promised to make it stop
The doctor really scared me
When he said about the op
But then I thought its better
Than my organ going pop
When I heard the details
It seemed alright to me
As I got a long and silent sleep
To plan new injuries
A poem about appendicitis by Ellie, who is 15 and lives in England. The poem feels as though its written from personal experience of an appendicectomy, but it may be the result of a fertile imagination.
I Fell Up The Stairs
By Jim McGovern
I fell up the stairs last night.
My head hit the ceiling
Surely that can’t be right?
My arms lost all feeling,
My head is still reeling,
Oh, what a dreadful set of occurrences!
The Sick Note
By Jim McGovern
Oh my dearie me
I have an aching knee
That stops me doing P.E.
Not just that
I’ll have a painful back
Until any time I foresee
Would love to attack
The doctor who wrote
That wonderful note
'I've sent you two entries for the poem competition. My name is Jim McGovern, I'm 15 years old, and I live in Derby (UK). I wrote these poems today when I found out about the contest.' ...perhaps its only adult poets who labour for months to write a single poem.