'My Poem'

When I was a lad of nine or ten, I had a poem published in the Liverpool Echo, for which I got a prize of 10/- . Above is a picture of me at that time.

Up we go with a rumble and a crash,

Motors whining in an upward dash.

Into space where no winds blow.

Up where the temperature is very low.

The moon is rising up in front,

The mountains there are very blunt.

I sit and watch them in my chair

And now I know that we are there!

John Griffiths, age 9

A Rocket Journey

I was very worried about the mountains, because they are not blunt. But I couldn't find a rhyme. My mum said it was 'poetic license', but I still worried about it.

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