I've never been good at writing poems

And this kind of bothers me because I absolutely adore poetry.

Not all poetry, mind you, but some of it is amazing.

(For instance:)

Recently, I've been reading A. A. Milne's 'When We Were Very Young' and I must say, if you haven't read his writing, you really should.

You have to.

Well, not really.

You're not going to die or anything if you don't.

But you should. 

Anywho.

I must say that mostly my favorite poems are the somewhat nonsensical ones.

For instance, I've memorized Lewis Carroll's Jabberwocky poem.

My favorites of A. A. Milne's are 'Happiness', 'The Four Friends' and 'Halfway Down'. I think I like a lot of his because some of them don't quite flow perfectly. His poems somehow always inspire me that way.

So now,
I've wrote
two poems-
not one
but two.
They're not
amazing poems
but they
will have
to do.

Ooh. I came up with that on the spot.
Moving on:

Raining

Pitter, patter
all the clatter
on the window pane.

Ping, pong
all the song
going down the lane.

Pound, pound
all the sound
driving me insane!

Why can't
          I go
               outside?

I'm not quite purfickly happy with this one. But I s'pose I like it. If you have any ideas on how I could make it better, feel free to leave a comment.

Far Away

Down, down
at the edge of town
is a long,
            dirt
                road.

Down, down
at the end of the road
is a big,
          green
               toad.

Long is the road,
green is the toad,
down at the edge
                    of town.

This one I'm pretty happy with. It was fun to write, it it is kind of what I was going for. Once again, if you have any ideas for improvements, lemme know.

I got this stuff simply from reading Milne's poems and, well, trying to mimic them. I'm rather proud.
Rather.
I like that word.

Happiness

John had
Great Big
Waterproof
Boots on;
John had a
Great Big
Waterproof
Hat;
John had a
Great Big
Waterproof
Mackintosh --
And that
(Said John)
Is
That.

     ~ A. A. Milne

Ivy and Thorn - Part 3

"Thorn-Finger," Ivy said suddenly as she popped the last piece of bacon in to her mouth. "I need to use the rest room."
"Go then." Thorn-Finger motioned to-ward the rest-room impatiently, unwilling to leave his delicious food for even a second.
The girl went off, unaffected by his brisk words, and Thorn-Finger was able to finished his buttery pancakes.
Ivy had still not come back by then, but something made him look up and out the window.
Bubba's eyes met his. The huge man was easy to spot, even in the crowded street. He looked tired and beaten. Bubba tossed his knife in the air and traced a line across his throat with his thumb.
Thorn-Finger nodded. He understood. He had to run.
Jumping up, he ran to the woman's bath room. He stopped at the door. "Ivy?" He knocked.
No answer.
A little louder: "Ivy?"
Please let Bubba not have found her, he thought.
"Yes?" Came the little girl's voice.
"We need to go."
"Be right there." The sound of shuffling hands and feet.
Thorn-Finger glanced through the window. Bubba was crossing the street. "Ivy-"
A woman pushed passed him out the door.
"Be right there!" The sound of rushing water.
"No, Ivy. Now!" Thorn-Finger knocked again.
The large man had made it to the sidewalk. He wasn't looking towards the rest-rooms.
"Coming!" Ivy emerged.
She had hardly taken one step out side the rest-room when Thorn-Finger grabbed her hand and ran for the back exit.
"But we have not paid!" Ivy insisted.
Pulling her down the back alley, he huffed. "No time!"
As soon as they made it out of town, they once again took to the trees. They ran until Ivy finally complained: "I am tired. I do not think I could walk another step." And with that she slipped her hand from his and sprawled out on the mossy ground.
It struck Thorn-Finger that the little girl had take all the excitement very well. Most girls would have started to cry. But Ivy was not like most girls. Instead of shying away from anything strange of dangerous, the odd and adventurous attracted this little girl. Instead of pink dresses, this girl wore leather jackets and combat boots.
No, this girl was anything but ordinary.
"Was there trouble, Thorn-Finger?"
It took him a moment to realize she had spoken.
"Yes."
But she was already asleep, even though the sun was still high in the sky.

Why does tap water from the bathroom taste better than tap water from the kitchen?

This is not just my imagination. I have mentioned this to a handful of people that freak out and say with triumph: "I knew I wasn't the only one!" And then we get into a very animated discusion on why we think it is that way.
Now, I have a couple theories about this, so hear me out.

Firstly, I have heard that you bathroom water pipes are often closest to the main water source, and therefore, because they travel a smaller distance through the pipes, it tastes better, You know, less like water pipes, backed up sewage and such.

I also think, possibly, that all that hand cleaning that goes on some how cleans the pipes and makes the water taste fresher and cleaner. Then again, if that was the case, our bathroom water might taste a little like soap.
Or maybe, because of all the yucky stuff that happens in bathrooms, more chlorine  is some how added to the water and that makes it taste cleaner. Then again, maybe chlorine doesn't actually taste all that great.

But maybe it isn't the bathroom water that tastes better, but the kitchen water that tastes worse. You know all that left over meat loaf that no one ends up eating or the vegetables you know you should eat but you some how manage to fill you stomach before you get to them? Maybe they some how get backed up into the system!

Of course, not everyone shares my opinion on tap water. My mother, for instance, doesn't like bathroom water. She thinks it's perhaps because the sink happens to be right next to the toilet.
But who knows? This is one of life's great mysteries that may never be solved.