Our Time

[billy]

When Garage roofs were made for jumps.
Evil Kenevil did his own stunts.

Garage doors were skateboard ramps. garage doors could be something else as it's already been used
Games were played under lamps.

Garden fences were made to hop
Chinn and Chapman were kings of pop.

Chippers, Choppers, Tomahawks and Racers,
Were ridden by kids with Mickey Mouse braces.

When stories of Blood stones and the heads it had took
Were whispered in tents, summer down the brook. feels awkward

Den’s dug out and covered with a car bonnet,
Shot at by an idiot with a 22 bullet.

Corner shops that sold huge elastic bands,
That soon became weapons in the wrong hands.

Trees stripped of berries and nest stripped of eggs
Missiles thrown for conkering, watch out mind your heads.

White lines on grass, three pots and in,
Play in the nets before the match begins.

Wet leather footballs, your skull to crush,
Kevin Keegan striker’s that popped on a rose bush.

When air riffles did the job of a cat,
Night walks with torches, thud of a dead rat.

Time trials and our own assault courses,
We jumped over obstacles as if we were horses.

Exploding plants that pop with a touch,
Walk across pipes, jeans covered in slutch.

Abseil from windows on ropes tied to beds,
One word to Mum and you are dead.

Watching Saturday wrestling in homemade ring,
Fingers bent back in a Mick Mcmanus special move thing.

Two fingers poised to capture the Monster Mash,
Stop before that talking bit in a grave yard bash.

Sunday night the one bath of the week,
Bed nice and clean, wrapped tight in a Flannelette sheet.

When time seemed to move ever so slow,
We did our best to try not to grow.

Exploring our world never seeming to tire,
Running through fields then setting them on Fire.
When time was our time.

again, this one has a meter problem, some poems don't need meter, this one definitely does (look here)there are lots of good lines that are spoiled because of a few less/extra metrical feet than are required or in the wrong order.
i think if you could sort the meter out you'd have a very memorable poem.
it would obviously mean losing or adding words, but it shouldn't be overly hard.