It Couldn't Be Done

I apologize for not having any truly terrible teenage poetry for you.  I thought I'd have that box unpacked by now, but other things got in the way.

Just so you don't go away empty handed, though, here's a poem that's not truly terrible.  In fact, it's one of my favorites...

It Couldn't Be Done
by Edgar A. Guest 

Somebody said that it couldn't be done,
But he with a chuckle replied
That "maybe it couldn't," but he would be one
Who wouldn't say so till he'd tried.
So he buckled right in with the trace of a grin
On his face. If he worried he hid it.
He started to sing as he tackled the thing
That couldn't be done, and he did it.

Somebody scoffed: "Oh you'll never do that;
At least no one ever has done it";
But he took off his coat and he took off his hat,
And the first thing we knew he'd begun it.
With a lift of his chin and a bit of a grin,
Without any doubting or quiddit,
He started to sing as he tackled the thing
That couldn't be done, and he did it.

There are thousands to tell you it cannot be done,
There are thousands to prophesy failure;
There are thousands to point out to you, one by one,
The dangers that wait to assail you.
But just buckle in with a bit of a grin,
Just take off your coat and go to it;
Just start to sing as you tackle the thing
That "cannot be done," and you'll do it.

Tragically Bad Teenage Poetry Sunday

You have some.  You know you do.  I'm guessing all writers at some point in their tragic teenage years wrote bad poetry.  We might've even submitted some to various contests - where we all won the Silver Poet award and were then invited to buy the book that our poems would be in.  (Just $39.99 plus shipping and handling for this fine faux leather bound volume*.)

So, since Lucky Seven Snippets seems to be petering out, I thought I'd use this day to post some tragically bad poetry from those tragic teen years. 

In fact, here's the only one I remember off the top of my head...

If all at once
I looked at you
And you were gone
How could I be sure
I hadn't disappeared also.

Yep, there it was in all it's meandering philosophy that lost 14 year old souls thrash around in.  I don't remember if I submitted that one to anywhere.  Maybe next week I'll post the one I submitted, got accepted and paid the $12.95 for.  (I still have that book around here somewhere.  I remember packing it to move here.)

*I never bought those.  What kid in the eighties had that kind of money to throw around?