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This, my friends, is my life story

Hello there. My name is O'Riely and I am a broom. I've been a broom for as long as I can remember, twelve years or so if memory serves. The vast majority of that time I have spent propped up against the wall in a utility cupboard in Sheperton Studios which is a place where films are made just outside somewhere called London. I have it on reliable authority that things haven't always been this way. Long ago I wasn't a broom. I was in fact part of something called a tree, two trees actually, but I have no way of verifying this. I can only ever remember being a broom. If I was ever anything else then it wouldn't have been me so I don't remember. Obviously.

Another speed poem. Trying to be as non judgmental as possible, this is a poem about helplessly watching friends getting married for all the wrong reasons.

It is the last day of the Easter holidays and Lily Green is lying in a big puddle of sunshine under the Chestnut tree on Bottle Bank Lane. Lily is eight years old. She has eyes as green as early acorns and a scattering of nutty freckles, like daisies on a lawn. She stretches out and tickles her cat Compo under his chin, which makes him fall over with happiness and waggle his legs in the air.

You might be a redneck if.. -Your school fight song was "Dueling Banjos" -You have a home that's mobile and fifteen cars that aren't -It takes you and 31 others in the same room to show a full set of teeth

A poem

Coffin nail cry, echoes down the backstreet; any rags, any rags, bring 'em out here.

I got the perfect life here at McKinney North High School. I always got whatever I wanted, even if it took more than being polite. The story begins with me and the rest of my football team on the bus.

"These mountains are pretty at night in the moonlight, don't you think?" Williams says. "Look at how those ridges stand out against the sky. The snow really lights them up."