My Poetry

So after seeing the irony in my previous post, I am going to do what I abhor. Shamelessly publish my writing. So if you want a good laugh at how the English teacher cannot write poetry worth crap...read on.


(Okay, so that was a small beg for approval - okay not so small - be nice?)

The Impossible

Eyes like rain
Fall from the face
I drift in the rift

Fuzz-Butt

Mavrick
Silky fluff-ball
Yowling, Dancing, Lazing
Cutest kitty in existence
Furball

Animal Haikus

cry comes from bathtub
drip drip drip goes the faucet
the cat drinks water

steam rises from rice
forks clink against the plates
the dog begs for food

The Detention Hour

Between the bell and the practice,
When the halls are pushing to leave,
Comes an arrest in the afternoon’s flirtations,
That is known as the Detention Hour.

I hear from the stairwells around me
The groans of tired brains,
The sound of a locker that is slamming,
And footsteps slow and grave.

From my classroom I see in the fluorescent light,
Ascending the well worn stairs,
Tardy Alex, and swearing Jonathan,
And Teddy with plagiarized fare.

An excuse, and then an apology:
Yet I know by their slumped backs
They are waiting and watching together
Of the time they keep track.

A sudden bang from the hallway,
A sudden thump from the wall!
By four sides they are encloséd
Into slumber they do fall.

They snore away into the afternoon
Slumped o’er the desk top plain
If I try to wake them, they growl at me,
They seem to be a damn pain.

They almost take out their homework,
Their books out of bags do come,
Till I think of the sloth of yesteryear
In its tree branch in the wood!

Do you think, o sleepy-eyed “scholar.”
Because you have broken the rules,
Such an old book-worm as I am
Cannot take out you fools!

I have you safe in my classroom,
And will not let you sleep,
But force you to do Algebra
In the figures your brains will steep.

And there I will keep you endlessly,
Yes, till three forty-five,
Till detention bells will ring unending,
And out of my room you’ll dive!