Reading Most disturbing children’s poetry on the Guardian news site makes me wish I could lay my hands on the poetry I wrote as a child. I doubt anything I wrote is as black as some of these but it would be interesting, nonetheless.
I remember one discovery I made on finding my eight-year-old self’s diary that made me laugh. The context; every Sunday, I went to church with my Mum and Grandparents. One member of the congregation had a loud, deep baritone and he always slowed down the fast hymns and made the slow hymns faster. As I got older, this became increasingly irritating, however, at eight I wrote Ronald Millet* is the best sinner in our church. While this pales in comparison, and almost comes under the ‘you had to be there’ umbrella’, the slip still amuses me.
I won’t disclose my favourite poem from the article though, as that might tell you a little too much about me.
*Name changed for privacy