What will your verse be? To see, click here. From Dead Poets Society.
My Childhood HouseDozing in the hush
Of a balmy northern noon I drift in and out of dreams And tip-toe from room to room In the house of my childhood places. The smell of the sugar mill, Thick as syrup, Rides in on the breeze Licks at my nostrils (such a tease) With memories of summer days long gone. In the time warp Of my parents’ house The radio plays the same songs Of my youth And lullabies my sleepy sad happiness. There on the shelf above is my life, Chronicled in photo albums And dusty nick knacks. Too precious to throw or stow They stay on show. Coming home, Melting into this comfy old couch Revives my soul, Makes me content, Makes me whole. Imagine(I was at high school when I wrote this and submitted it instead of an essay we had been asked to write about ourselves.)
I want to run through crystal rains That fall in gentle tears, Softer than whispers upon my hair, Light as youth, with the wisdom of years. Dance sweet nymphs and impish folk – Lead me Guide me Take my hand. Let’s follow rainbows of gentle hues To the make-believe and fantasy land. Let’s live among the weeping gum Beside a placid pool, And bathe in prisms of cascading light As we splash in waterfalls cool. Smile Apollo, thy golden smile – Teach me Touch me Reach my soul. Let me drink thy golden light So my silvery laughter may flow. I’d love to gather the shimmering stardust That sprinkles a rich night sky – To slippery-slide down silent moonbeams And forget what it means to cry. Oh, graceful birds, so wild and free – Pity me Show me How to fly. I want to soar through fluffy white clouds. My heart does; why can’t I? My heart is light as the lightest breeze. It is gay and wild and free – And though ‘tis housed within my frame ‘Tis not a prisoner like me. |
What is a Poem?
What is a poem,
But a memory of time Made cosier and rosier with words carefully crafted, Drafted and redrafted, Until that moment So perfectly captured Makes you Suck in surprise, Close your eyes And feel yourself there. I am the TeacherI am the teacher who cares for your child
Through thick and thin, through calm and wild. I am the doctor, tender of cuts, Master of plaster, kicker of butts. I am the teacher who walks the beat Of the playground at lunchtime while others eat. I am the policeman, preventer of crime, The judge and the jury and the guardian of time. I am the teacher, sometimes blue, Confessor to many, even hero to a few. I am the psychiatrist, mender of hearts, Builder of dreams, puller of carts. I am the teacher rushed off my feet, Totally exhausted by the end of the week. I’m also the dreamer whose hopes and whose fears Are awash in a sea full of laughter and tears. I am the teacher who, day after day, Worries over students who might go astray. I’m also the winner, the grinner, the face Who trusts that most of them will run a good race. A Fork in the RoadWhen the road forks ...
Which way to go? Do I take the gentle one To a life calm and slow? Or do I take the exciting one Into the unknown? Happy Anniversary33 years wed and you are still
The apple in my pie, The stars in my sky, The spread on my bread, And the twinkle in my eye. Happy anniversary my love. |