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Poems

Matthew Randell May 2015
Potatoes, potatoes! They grow in the ground,

When you dig them up they're muddy, brown and round,

Potatoes, potatoes! Delicious mashed,

But they don't taste so good if they've been bashed,

Potatoes, potatoes! Steamy in their jacket,

Potatoes, potatoes! Fresh in their packet,

Potatoes, potatoes! Can be made into chips,

Potatoes, potatoes! Are best when they're crisps!
A poem about my favourite tuber the potato. I wrote this near the begining of Junior school.
Haylen A Wills  Sep 2017
Potato
Haylen A Wills Sep 2017
(sorry, but not sorry)

There once was a potato plant,
(Because potatoes grow on plants...)
This plant harvested baby potatoes.
This was no ordinary potato plant, however,
It was SPECIAL!

Anywho, the plant grew several baby potatoes,
Who were harvested and shipped on a crate to a grocery store
in a cold, dark shipping truck.
The potatoes, they weren't scared! Yah know why? Simple.
Because Potatoes don't have FEELINGS!

....but if they did....they'd be scared. Take my word for it.

The potatoes arrived at the store and were bagged, ready for purchase. They sat together in a pile for hours,
thinking about (but not thinking about) what would happen in the future, why they were in this bag, UNTIL, UNTIL a homeless man (he looked homeless) reached into the bag, pulled out a single spud, and RAN! Out the store, down the street,
HE WAS OUTTA THERE! BYE-BYE SUCKERS!

Well, on his way to.... wherever he was going, he fell and dropped it. That's what stealing does to yah.
It rolled into an abandoned alley, far away from the man's sight. He couldn't stop and look for it, because he was being chased, so he ran away sourly, the potato being left cold and alone, without it's family to be piled up motionlessly beside it.

This potato was different. Unlike it's family, it could feel,
it could think and understand, even without knowing language at all, it's like the potato just knew everything and anything, without a purpose. And, another thing.
This potato, it was hungry. Very hungry.

Only hours later (again)
A parentless child walked the streets, searching for something to eat. They hadn't eaten in days. Of course, the child found the battered potato on the ground,picked it up and smiled.
It was the end of the potatoes life cycle, it seemed.
Or...was it? Seconds until the end, seconds until facing the terrifying wrath of the human's sharp, untaimed teeth, seconds until it got to see if there was a potato heaven or not, JUST SECONDS, something changed.

The spud; it grew. No, it didn't grow in size, but it did grow a mouth, and arms. And it could scream. Oh God, yes, it could wail like no tomorrow, so, quickly adapting to it's new form; it yelled ****** ******. The child threw it at a wall, screaming and running away.

..... Silence from the potato.
Sadly, it could withstand the grasp of a sweaty, homeless dude,
it could bare the growing silence from it's siblings,
it could even dodge the teeth of a starving ape!

But the potato was no match for a wall.
Mashed potatoes for dinner it is.
I....my God. This is a great way to say I'M BACK! Isn't it?
Hopefully you laughed. Please laugh....Ha