Nonsense.

And now for something completely different. I was digging through my external hard drive when I found what I am about to share with you.

So, basically when I was younger I loved writing little poems, but hated that people had to overanalyse poetry. I mean, I once spent an entire A Level English Literature lesson analysing the choice of an author who called a character: Mother. Could it possibly be because she was the main character’s mother?!? So I started writing poetry that was complete and utter nonsense because it was to be enjoyed simply for its language and nothing else. So I share with you a poem from 14-year old Michael: 'Nonsense'.

A day at the seaside, as normal as “neigh”,

Was ruined by Nonsense, who was coming to play.

She skipped from the sea, in the arms of the Llama.

Whilst bouncing on eggshells, which were stole from the Farmer.

“You ought to be careful” said a voice from the shed.

“The Guitar’s on the warpath and you’ll lose your head.”

“But I don’t understand,” said the Llama to I.

“He can’t lose his head if his head’s in a pie.”

So they ran and they ran, till the Pancake did twirl,

Then fell from the sky, a young emerald girl.

She warned that this nonsense had gone round the bend,

I think she was right. So this poem, I’ll end.