I came home the other night and found this sitting on bed. It is one of my poetic efforts c. 1970s. Well, from the state of my writing, I am thinking it is c. 1970s. If this is 1980s Lisa then I am even more embarrassed! I pity my Aged Aunt #1 who was the lucky (?) recipient of this poetic gem. (Or should I say, poetic turd? Hmm? Close call.)
It is clear that I understood the concept of rhyming words.
It is also clear that I had quite an imagination.
It is just the panache I seemed to have been lacking. Or any poetic talent for that matter.
I have not improved much over the years.
I recall sometime in 2005, walking along the streets of Subiaco in pink thongs (flip-flops for my English readers) and having just finished reading Stephen Fry’s The Ode Less Travelled, I was full of poetic inspiration. The resulting poetic brilliance of this walk:
I walk along the city streets, flip flop
Upon my feet are bright pink things, flip flop
What the poetry world has lost the historical world has the misfortune of gaining!