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Some say don't burn your bridges.
I say, if necessary, let the kerosene kiss it on the lips & watch it turn to ash.
There's always more than one way to cross the water.
~~
dedicated to Ashleigh Riddle,
who knows that forwards and backwards can both be the right way



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Homework assignments, please pass them in!

Mmmm ok who didn't submit?

Stand up please!

Ah Mr. LIPSTADT, I should have known!
No poem?

Oh yes sir, I have a poem, even three!

But the dog et them, so if you want, I'll
Recite them please?

{general laughing and snorting in the classroom}

Oh really, Mr. Lipstadt,
why don't you come up to the front
And share with us but one of,
(big sneer on teach's face)
Your creativity!

Shuffle up to Buffalo, where hysteria breaks out,
For now the world is informed that I am wearing
One black and one brown shoe,
The din is attracting the notice of the class
next door, room 402.

Order! Order! Settle down.

Ok let us hear what you dint write!
(Dint, oh boy)

The Poem (the one the dog et):

A special day this quiet Tuesday,
For when I awoke, looked outside,
I saw what I saw,  quickly realized,
That this was the day to
break the norms.

Why must I wear two shoes of similar hues?
My can't my hair be color enhanced by the pink of you!

You just noticed my shirt and pants are  on backwards?
Perception in the eye of the beholder,
Beholder that be me, because,
Today, behold!
It is break the norms day!

Moon in the sky morning,
It knows the way, its place
When gravity, cycles, temporarily shelved,
On the break the norms day

Kissed my mom before I left for school,
My dad, my brother, my sis, too whoo hoo,
** **, you shoulda seen their faces,
When I sauntered out the door,
Humming, C'mon baby light my fire

The crossing guard gave me my usual,
A whistling hello,
Today, I whistled back,
The whistle of
Hey babe, looking good,
She blushed so hard,
The drivers thot the light was
Stuck on red!

This is how I spent my morn,
On the day of breaking the norms!


But even on break the norm day,
Somethings are constant, forever,
For instance, the path to the
School office, La Principal, unchanging,
Her grimaced visor in place,
Till she closes the door.

Then she says tell me honey child,
One of my unusual ones,
What trespasses have you committed today?

Well, the dog et my poetry,
But knew it well and true,
Offered to recite, not a riot incite,
May I please say one for you?

She said:
I know for a fact that you don't have
A dog, but nonetheless,
Sing to me, child,
Give me words
That justify
Giving most of
My lifetime to
Children.

So I gave her a listening
Of one I writ the week before, called,
"He taught them well."

She wept.
Ok, teary-eyed glistening,
She said, as punishment for class disrupting,
You will be suspended for the rest of the day,
You will have spend the rest of this diurnal,
Sitting next to me, thus,
We will break one more norm, together....

---------------------
For Helen, "I have so many partial poems I'm thinking of just mashing them together and maybe the dog will eat them..."
In all poems, I swear there is always a kernel of
Truth.

HE TAUGHT THEM WELL
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He cared enough,
So much so to
reason with them.
Never diminishing their simplest prose,
Even if it rhymed with rose....

He loved them in his way,
A teacher, once his student,
This year, then forever.

Their woes he read,
In every submission,
No threat treated idly,
He knew but one grade,
Caring.

One rule strictly observed,
No touching,
In this sad age, a crime without
Any absolution.

Then came a day.
School arrived, pre-bell by ten minuets,
His customary arrival time.

This day different.

The long corridor to the classroom entree,
Lined like Noah's ark, two by two,
On each side,
His students past and present aligned,
They would not let him pass,
Till he hugged each and everyone.

Thus, they taught him well the meaning of
Just rewards,
For they were his,
Yes, they were his,
Not for the taking,
But for the giving.

His subject,
of course,

Creative writing!
 Mar 2020 eccedentesiast
Traveler
none here
Words run straight through me
all my thoughts
they just appear
systematically unruly
Traveler Tim
Dear HP,

This is not a poem
But a question
The answer to which
I do hope you have

Why does my lover claim to love me
But still looks for every opportunity
To let me go?

Is it that she loves me so much
But doesn't think she's worthy of me

Or she doesn't love me enough
To think I'm worthy of her?
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