The Poet Within...

I'm on the 3rd section of my OU creative writing course. Writing Poetry. This will be a total cinch for me as I am already pretty outstanding when it comes to writing poetry.

You see, you either have 'it' or you do not. And I have always been one of those who have 'it'. As you can see from this example, written circa 1982 (age 7). I have taken the libery of re-typing it here exactly as it's written so that you get a genuine feel for the piece...

The Rainbow Poem

What is Red? a fire is red.
with cakling spark glowing in the night
What is orange? an orang is orange.
Whith juicy bites evry time.
What is yellow? the sun is yellow
whith a golden smile in the sky.
What is green? The green refreshers are green
whith a minty taste.
what is blue? the sky is blue
where clouds float by.
What is indigo? A jersy is indigo
whith sometimes pretty patterns.
What is purpple? the wall is purple.
Whith flowers or sometimes woodchip.

***

I'm going to give you a few moments to digest the subtleties and nuances of this piece of poetry. Take time to consider if there ever really was a green refresher, or if I am, at such a young age, using a metaphor for life itself.

Also note that on line 11 I have taken the liberty to give myself a tick and a 'very good'. Is this part of the poem itself? An early example of poetry crossing personalities from the writer to the marker?

You know what? I'll probably just hand this in for the marked assignment at the end of next month and give myself a few weeks off. What do you think?