Hangman with the teacher
R_ T_ _E_
It was a Tuesday painted Friday
by wanton act of tragedy
When punctual Mr. Miller, laconically sat
Looking on his wards he silently wept
He sighed with contempt
of a lifetime of regret
Meditating sorrow in his morning Earl Grey tea
Looking through the window
at tears of rain rang from the pang
And the sky was mourning grey
A middle age man he was tall and rather fair
Angular face, with drawn pink cheeks
The formal decorum of accountant attire
Wore a striped shirt with a founded pocket pen
An emerald striped tie gave his statues duke
Aristocratic gallantry withered by the chords of life storms.
Eyes pinpoints of coal, recoiled stygian streams
Sullen geniality masquerading animosity
A follower of Minerva measured is life in coffee spoons
We converged to our desks, like sheep to the cull
Meager creatures with desolate manners
Little Nero’s with so pause for concern
Sessions began with an alternative directive
He stood as Napoleen as waterloo fell
Resolute as the earth sunk around his crown
His eyes beat malice, but his mouth cracked
“No math today, or gym time fun”
, he perched his lips, and smiling wide
‘Were going to play a spelling game”
He took the chalk, and drew seven lines
Turned on us with malevolent surprise
“It starts with “r and ends in “D”
One more hint, Ill consent to you
there are in place three vowels
Guess the word you get a prize”
He moved with the passion of a drunken lynx,
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poem by Kevin Patrick
Added by Poetry Lover
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