stolin
10-05-2005, 08:37 PM
i got bored and wrote a poem about my teacher:
Stare
I wonder why….
The look that she gives me is only a taste
Of a look that is full of dislike and distaste
How often do I receive this look?
My life is like an open book
Once, maybe twice, thrice for sure
If only those looks never were
The way she stares, I am sent for a maze
Lost in a puzzle full of haze
Her desire is noted, her intentions due
What should I think? What should I do?
To turn away seems cowardly,
But to bear this look hourly?!
The thought is insane
Yet her stare remains
I’m about to explode into the hall
All of my organs hitting the wall
Should I do a trick, do you think that’d work?
Or would the ill feelings remain and lurk?
It’s not easy being the class clown
Go ahead and try it,
You will find that the teacher puts you down,
Gives you a stare that makes ice jealous
A stare that may as well tell us,
‘You are the cause for my headache,
For that of my distress,
Will you please cut the act?
And give me a rest?’
To this heartfelt plea
This is the reply from me,
‘There is one or two of us in every class
We who act up and yet still pass.
Yet to get rid of us would be a sin,
We put laughter in the class you are in.
So instead you should embrace this clownship of mine,
And we can leave this staring behind.’
Stare
I wonder why….
The look that she gives me is only a taste
Of a look that is full of dislike and distaste
How often do I receive this look?
My life is like an open book
Once, maybe twice, thrice for sure
If only those looks never were
The way she stares, I am sent for a maze
Lost in a puzzle full of haze
Her desire is noted, her intentions due
What should I think? What should I do?
To turn away seems cowardly,
But to bear this look hourly?!
The thought is insane
Yet her stare remains
I’m about to explode into the hall
All of my organs hitting the wall
Should I do a trick, do you think that’d work?
Or would the ill feelings remain and lurk?
It’s not easy being the class clown
Go ahead and try it,
You will find that the teacher puts you down,
Gives you a stare that makes ice jealous
A stare that may as well tell us,
‘You are the cause for my headache,
For that of my distress,
Will you please cut the act?
And give me a rest?’
To this heartfelt plea
This is the reply from me,
‘There is one or two of us in every class
We who act up and yet still pass.
Yet to get rid of us would be a sin,
We put laughter in the class you are in.
So instead you should embrace this clownship of mine,
And we can leave this staring behind.’