#endofterm
Intent on the final bell ring
declaring spring for reals
as we feel every inch
a bag of hammered turds
You will have heard the crack
in every colleague’s voice this term,
felt the glut of panics
that the journey home may be in a hearse
Still, it could be worse,
and when the rear view
shows a dwindling, darkening school,
we’ll spend two weeks pondering how,
exactly
Apr 1, 2022
Apr 1, 2022 at 8:24 AM UTC
Better than ****** Christmas
this six weeks that we continually justify
that stop our hands breaking,
the dying of hearts and minds
though in the middle
somewhere
when we regain our human form
sometimes storms rage a bit
and we stand, clifftop howling
at an unknown moon
on return we’ll have lost friends, loves,
yet be reborn to care, to teach,
to take the slings and arrows again
from this pauper’s fortune
Jul 15, 2021
Jul 15, 2021 at 4:28 PM UTC
Oh, my tired sisters and brothers
I know.
Each and every step and gesture
has hidden lead weights attached
and everything lifted now hurts
You are allowed the involuntary grunt
or voluntary tear as you stand,
all eyes and ears are itchy with
tired
There is still a smile allowed
as long as we keep an end in sight
Jul 10, 2021
Jul 10, 2021 at 12:18 PM UTC
Edged laughter of teachers,
bone-tired from the joy-slog weeks passed,
speaks of an adult relief,
R and R for bruised hearts and knocked heads
Coming off the front line,
hard fought thought-inches precariously gained,
we sit in living room street cafes,
flowing vin du table,
inhaling rest like Gauloise
The distant classroom thud and rumble never fully fades,
echoed in sandbags of intelligence to be pored over
deciphered, summarised in triplicate,
for later summits
But it will wait
For now, we’ll catch a show, an eye,
maybe even a lie of peace,
for one duvet-warm morning
Soon, we’ll be back to inspecting boots,
buttons, buckles, sharpened pens ready,
waiting for the whistle
Oct 23, 2020
Oct 23, 2020 at 12:13 PM UTC