As a schoolboy I was once forced to recite this vile verse in front of the whole school. If anyone can let me know the poet I would be most grateful. I'd like to send him/her a letter of complaint.
When I was young the sun was hot
It shone upon my flowerpot
And there I saw a spike of green
Which no-one else had ever seen
etc etc
blah blah blah.......
Thanks ilza,
I'm not familiar with Barbara Baker (nor have I any wish to be). I had guessed that it was written by some cynical hack like Enid Blyton. Of interest to nobody at all I've managed to remember the pathetic poem in its entirety:
When I went out the sun was hot
It shone upon my flowerpot
And there I saw a spike of green
Which no-one else had ever seen.
On other days the things I see
Are mostly old except for me
But this green spike so small and new
Had never yet been seen at all.
I remember clearly the tedious week before the recital. My teacher trying to drum those dull words into my brain by repetition. My friends David and Birol making up brilliantly witty new lines like "On other days the things I see are mostly old and made of wee". These alternative versions would,of course, be much easier to bring to mind than the originals when I eventually stood quivering onstage in front of about 600 unsympathetic faces. What happened next is far too horrible to relate.
Post Edited (01-05-04 10:23)
Do tell, Hernandez!
You recited the paraphrase?
No. No I couldn't. It was terrible...
I think this poem is in a book called "The Puffin Quartet of Poets". It's possibly by Eleanor Farjeon.
If Hernandez does send a letter of complaint to Eleanor Farjeon I hope he won't be too harsh as I suspect that she is quite an elderly lady by now. At the risk of bringing the wrath of Hernandez upon myself I'd say that it's not such a terrible childrens poem. I've read much worse!
She died in 1965, aged 84, so a complaint now will be a little late. Could you have sent the letter in time?
I am ( or was ... ) quite sure it is by Barbara Baker ...
Was it Barbara Baker or Eleanor Farjeon??? I was just joking about the letter of complaint by the way. I quite like the idea of "THE WRATH OF HERNANDEZ" though.
I must wonder, do you hate the poem because you had to recite it at a young age in front of your peers...( Most kids hate to do this )
or do you truly believe this is that bad of a poem.
Personaly I like it but then again who the heck am I.
I would gladly stand among one or a thousand and more,
in able to bring one word of verse to a world without.
.........................steve........................................e............................................
"And now to conclude proceedings young Philip will recite a poem for us". I made my way to the front amid much sniggering from friends and enemies in the assembly hall. Following my teachers instruction I took a deep breath. The first line of the poem was clear in my mind but as I began to speak I knew that something was wrong. From the corner of my eye I could see movement. "When I went out..." Mr Chingford the deputy headmaster was hurtling toward me pushing a huge trolley with a tiny tv set perched on top of it. "...the sun was hot..." He stationed the trolley directly between me and my audience. I heard him mutter a bad word as he realised that the television plug would not reach any available socket. "...It shone upon..." "Dave there's an extension lead in my office!" shouted Mr Chingford. I felt a kind hand on my arm and was lead back to my seat by someone or other. I was still mumbling about "spikes of green" when the tv sprang into life to show blurry grey and white images of clumsy astronauts pottering about on the moons surface.
Perhaps I should send a letter of complaint to Neil Armstrong.
Good twist!
Philip (may I call you Philip?)
If this is a true story then you would be in your 40s now(?) Is it true or are you having us on? It remains an enjoyable story even if you are.
ha, that's what bothers you, that you were upstaged by one of the greatest events in history? i'd think you'd be glad to sit down. however, the tale you tell is well played out throughout the coarse of this thread, bravo mr.hernandez.
argo
Were you at school in Europe (UK as against US)? I sat up for most of the night to watch the landing coverage live. Or did the head want you all to see later outings? I'm not sure my school had a TV in those days.
Please do call me Philip. Most people around here call me stinky. What bothered me most was, not being upstaged, but that my teacher made me do the recital again in the following weeks assembly! I was a total quivering wreck by then. I went to school in north london and we had one very small black and white television which only children sitting in the first three rows could see clearly. All I can remember from that mornings broadcast was that there were two astronauts moving about very slowly on the moons surface and that we were meant to be impressed!
I had to dance in front of parents and other students once ...
I was tall, and thin, and shy.
I doubt anyone had ever heard of "Isadora-style"
- which was the one I tried to copy instead of wearing a tutu.
I could play the piano, I knew tons of poems by heart then, but no ...
I was to dance ...
It took me years to get over it.
It helped me to improve my sense of humor, though ...
It must have taken years for the audience to get over it.
Churchill had the temerity to die on my 11th birthday - and all the grown ups lost interest in me! Then, on the one occasion I went to Paris, the Pope was there at the same time and the big cathedral I particularly wanted to visit was closed because he was taking a service there after we left and they had to security screen it and build a podium. I'm still sulking over both! No-one can hold a grudge like a Brit!
Yes, Lee Harvey Oswald should have chosen another day to assasinate Kennedy, he delayed the first episode of Doctor Who.
The swine!
Clearly a conspiracy!
pam
What were my teachers motives for making me go through that ordeal a second time? Did she hate me? Did she think the experience would be character building? Or was she just very stupid?
During this second week of hell my mother noticed a marked change in my behaviour, (withdrawn, unable to sleep, muttering under my breath etc). Thinking that I was being bullied she made an apointment to see my teacher who was able to reassure her that all was well. I was merely on the verge of a breakdown because of the recital. So that was alright.
Post Edited (01-05-04 10:31)
When I saw her at Christmas I asked my Mum if she remembered anything about that troubled time in my childhood. She said that she didn't(!) but that during her own schooldays she had had to cope with a similar task. She dealt with it in the following way which I include here in case it is of use to any young students who might read this.
In her room she would take on the role of cruel teacher. Flowers on the wallpaper would be her terrified students. Choosing a flower at random she would shout "You! Say it!" Then putting on a timid flower voice she would make her first attempt to recall the poem. When the poor plant inevitably faltered it would be scolded mercilessly and another nervous flower victimised in its place. This one would fare slightly better but, once again, eventually make a mistake and be verbally chastised. So it would go on until my future mother knew the poem by heart and was able to recite it proudly to a wall full of weeping wisteria.
When I next see her I will ask my Mum to write down what she remembers of the poem she had to recite. (Something about a horse standing in a field while its master lies dead!!) Then if some kind person on this forum is able to identify the poet we will deal with him or her (the poet, that is, not the kind person) in the traditional Hernandez family way.