An Unoriginal poem and a Original poem

Here's a poem I wrote last year. Yes, I'm no poet, but it sums up my mood most school days. (It doesn't rhyme.)

History

Old, but newer each day,

Slow, but fasted paced.

Full, but missing parts here and there.

Sad and happy, (but usually not in the end.)

It's not a fairy tale, it's not a novel;

It's life, now and then.

I learn from their mistakes;

I share in their joy.

History can be fun!

Now Math's a different matter...

~Lydia Sigwarth

(If you are wondering, I don't really like Math, I'm not good at it.)

I'm posting this next poem because I'm sick of doing all the talking here, so I'm going to challenge you all. This Poem is called The Riddle, and that's what it is. One of those "Who Am I" riddles . I'm looking forward to your guesses!

A Riddle

We are little airy creatures

All of us different voice and features

One of us in glass is set

One of us you'll find in jet.

T'other you may see in tin,

And the forth a box within.

If the fifth you should ppursue,

It can never fly from you.

~Johnathan Swift

Cheerio,

Lydia