I submitted my poem
to a teacher, Mr Rowan
and he graded it an F
Still, I’m a great poet
he just doesn’t yet know it
but some day he’ll have to confess

though he’ll give me an E
yet when it comes to poetry
I’m the greatest poet there ever was
I’ll climb my way to a D
just wait and you’ll C
I’ll prove it just because

I’ll let go and let B
he’ll wonder if it’s me?
A poet born not made
he’ll grant me an A
on a poem I’ll tear up that day
and prove I’m more than just a grade

I want to steal away
To Bermuda,
When the sea is calm,
Like Miranda,
See a brave new world
And not be lost
Without touch, here now,
Nearest to you,
The gulls they travel far,
With they I will go,
Fly beyond the outer isles,
Sail over seas,
I do not like being dizzy,
Clumsy tongued
Nor looking up to eyes
That sun tease
To tears of rain I shed,
On white sands
That true stretch faraways
Yet bring me back
My breath is exhausted
Each hour is heavy
Your raven hair on beach
Of Skye, the white
And the black thick strands
Are too much for me
I must leave- us, one day,
Steal away to the pink
Sands of coral fair Bermuda
And be as Miranda
And so, with peace I will be
In a brave new world.