Unseen Poem

OK. Turn the page. Right, here goes …
The first line’s straightforward, I suppose.
At least I know what the words all mean.
It has an AA BB rhyming scheme.
What’s that French word for when one line
runs into the next? Jambon? Never mind.
Susan Jenkins is smiling, I bet she knows.
Oh great! Now the rhymes have disappeared
and the language is getting more obfuscatory
by the stanza. The voice keeps changing.
At first, it was confident. But now it’s confused
uncertain (?) and … hesitant?
and as for this bit
what was the poet even thinking?
(personally, i think
they must have been drinking)
Susan Jenkins needs more paper.
I hate her. There are ten minutes left.
What’s this poem all about anyway?
No idea. I shall just have to guess.
I’ll say it’s a metaphor for death.


are extraordinary

They teach us
about topographical features,
and the causes of the First World War.

They teach us
about working safely with Bunsen Burners
and what a protractor is for.

They teach us
about apostrophe’s
and where not to put them.

They teach us
when to open our mouths
and when best to shut them.

make us dream-chasers,

Yes, teachers
are extraordinary

Except for Mr Jenkins,
‘cos he put me in detention that time
when I done a Chinese burn on Craig Hutchings.