читать дальшеThe Detached
We die,
Welcoming Bluebeards to our darkening closets,
Stranglers to our outstretched necks,
Stranglers, who neither care nor
care to know that
DEATH IS INTERNAL.
We pray,
Savoring sweet the teethed lies,
Bellying the grounds before alien gods,
Gods, who neither know nor
wish to know that
HELL IS INTERNAL.
We love,
Rubbing the nakednesses with gloved hands,
Inverting our mouths in tongued kisses,
Kisses that neither touch nor
care to touch if
LOVE IS INTERNAL.
Maya Angelou
A bad or a good teacher
A bad teacher is negatively pessimistic
A good teacher is positively optimistic
A bad teacher swears all the time
A good teacher cares in their prime
A bad teacher passes on rude fear
A good teacher has on good ears
A bad teacher discourages
A good teacher encourages
A bad teacher despairs
A good teacher prepares
A bad teacher likes to bitch
A good teacher likes to teach
A bad teacher shouts every moment
A good teacher scouts for every talent
A bad teacher is up for crude devices
A good teacher is up for good advice
A bad teacher lets students fight on in the dark
A good teacher sets students on the right track
A bad teacher feeds on their looks
A good teachers reads many books
A bad teacher sings along with wrong faults
A good teacher brings along the right results
Copyright 2006 - Sylvia Chidi
www.sylviachidi.com
Sylvia Chidi
Dissed
I am quiet
The clock is slow
The teacher talks fast
I inhale then exhale
I am anxious
The clock moves faster
The teacher is writing on the board
I inhale then exhale
I am excited
The bell is about to ring
The teacher gives the homework assignment
I inhale then exhale slowly
I am nervous
The bell has finally rung
I walk out of class heading in his direction
I can barely breathe now
I am brave
I wait for him to walk my way
He sees me, I open my mouth, but he walks in the opposite direction
I am left motionless
Pamela Mote
Feelings
She can speak
But she would write
No, scribble
With that box of crayons
That box of 10 crayons
And she would scribble...
Red when she is angry
Blue when she is sad
Black when she had done wrong
Yellow when she felt cheerful
Green when she felt fresh
Brown when she felt indignant
Pink when she felt light
Purple when she felt mystified
Orange when she felt optimistic
Gray when she felt empty
And her teacher saw her scribbling
And asked what she was scribbling about
And the girl showed her the crayons
But the teacher did not know
And thought the teacher:
what a withdrawn child
For the child was,
an introvert
Morphing Professor