This is the first poem I ever wrote. I was about 12 and had just finished reading a funny book about a duck. I realized then that I liked writing poetry. I’ve made a few changes but for the most part, it’s what I wrote then. Enjoy!
There once was a lucky duck, you see,
and a quaint little duck was he.
His name was Gregory Peter George Algenon Christopher Charles the third.
And he lived in a hollow tree like a bird.
And he lived in a hollow tree.
One day, by the way, as he sat in his nest
he thought he would learn how to fly.
So he climbed to the top of a tree, flippy flop,
and decided to have a good try.
But alas, with a moan
he fell down like a stone
and he hit the green grass with a bang.
With a gasp and a quack he lay there on his back
and said, “I’ll soon get the hang of this thing
and maybe I’ll learn how to sing. What a chance.
And maybe I’ll learn how to sing.”
He’d try and he’d try but he just couldn’t fly
and his voice didn’t change; not a note.
So he wandered away to the beach at the bay
and, oh joy, he found he could float.
He flipped with his feet and he wiggled his seat
and he quacked, “Oh boy I can swim”.
“I can swim, I can quack, I can float on my back,
I can dive, I can splash
what a life, what a treat.”
“I don’t need to fly. Not even to try.
And I certainly don’t need to sing.”
“I’m a duck. Oh what luck being just a duck.
Being happy to do my own thing.”