-
|
|
Poetry
by Mickey Grubb
Another
Ole School Teacher
I remember those writing assignments.
The ones that were to make us better users
of the English language, better thinkers, better adults.
If I had written a poem, but I didn't,
it would have been about that old maid of a teacher,
sitting there behind her desk,
peering out over the top of those wire-rimmed glasses
perched on the tip of her nose
waiting for someone to answer her question
on the meaning of the words
of Keats, Browning, or Shakespeare.
I thought, no wonder she's an old maid,
no friends with only verse and prose for companions.
Who could live with her discussing English Literature
and the essence of someone's poetry?
Now, after all these decades,
I sit behind my desk,
an old confirmed bachelor of a teacher,
and observe through these thick bifocals
students contemplate two roads diverged,
deciding on Frost the poet
or the white substance on the windowpane.
Copyright © 2009
by Mickey Grubb
Send a message by using the Word
Catalyst feedback form.
|
|
|
