[size=125]You remember that day,
in front of the class,
in front of that girl,
when you fell on your ass…?
Kicked your heels in the air,
felt your jeans rip n’ tear -
and remembered too late
the pink pants that you wear…?
You remember those lines,
And that too-slick hair
those shoes, that shirt
and those god-awful flares…?
How you danced in those days,
all shuffle and snap -
tripped over your feet
and fell into the gap
between Nora’s twin peaks
(remember her from 2A)
rumoured and gossiped
to go all the way…?
Remember the day
when you first lit one up
you hacked out your lungs
and coughed up the butt…?
How your mate Scotty laughed
and how you swung a fist
and he puked through his nose
like a fat punctured cyst…?
Remember the time,
with your pants round your knees,
surrounded by pictures
of tits and strip-tease…?
When your Mum didn’t knock
just breezed right on through,
the look on her face -
how red her cheeks grew…?
Remember that Jenny,
the girl from next door,
that kiss that you kissed
stretched out on the floor…?
How you rolled over
not seeing that nail
that hole in her butt
that terrible wail…?
Remember these times
these pieces of hell,
they happen to everyone[/size]
[size=75](even Brad Pitt as well).[/size]

…Just when I was getting over them. Thanks, Tabula.

Great piece Tab, firing off some grand shots in this poem: i.e. articulate image, descriptions, and throw-away conceits, of your childhood and teen years. We can all compare with this - perhaps some more than others…and perhaps in hindsight this poem might grow stronger.

A lot of honesty in this poem, that is, a sincere logging of personal experience, for wider relation. There are a few things I could point out, but i’m sure if you edit this piece you’ll do the ironing out on your own terms.

Was it really ‘hell’ - I suppose it is, but it is certainly a comfortable, afforable hell maybe. Hell just seems a bit at odds with the charming, almost nostalgic, content of this poem. But, I suppose, ‘embarassment’ is the hell you are refering too. I still know that hellish self-concious, over-stepping, and extroversion that brings us painfully home to how youthful and eager and uncertain we are…

Fine poem .

Aha - needed something to rhyme with ‘well’ in the last line.

Too dumb to think of anything else.

How about:

Remember these times
life’s great blooper reel,
they happen to everyone
(even Brad Pitt and Seal).