Category Archives: Poetry

My Name is Not Gven

Living, as I do, in Sweden.
I’ve often heard and often seen,
That Swedes don’t care,
Or aren’t aware,
That V and W are different.
Whilst seeking out a library book,
After a long and thorough look,
One may find that one,
Can locate none,
Of Wordsworth, Wells, or Whitman.
Try going back one letter, please.
They’re probably within the Vs,
Right next to Verne,
Since Swedes don’t discern,
There are two different consonants.

Advice to my nephew turning 30

Thought I’d write some words of wisdom,
But I couldn’t get them to come,
Nonetheless I’m writing this to you,
As it is with that old adage,
Thirty is a rite of passage,
So I’ve jotted down some stuff to get you through,
You’ll be fine, but time will tell,
If no one saw, you never fell,
Karma’s a bitch, but just as well,
For if you scratch an itch, it just might swell,
If it’s what it is, it was meant to be,
But perception is reality,
Half-full or empty’s not the gig,
The problem is your cup’s too big,
Just be yourself, I share your pain,
Don’t bring a towel into the rain,
Knuckle down, it’s not rocket science,
Revolt, or consider compliance,
Doesn’t matter either way,
Tomorrow’s still another day,
In the big picture, we’re all just squat,
A little bit of cosmic snot,
Trouble’s not worth a hill of beans,
Oh,
And don’t forget to eat your greens.

Why did you become a teacher?

It took a couple of months but I’m gainfully employed again.
A middle school gig this time.

Yes, I know.

All middle school kids are psychopaths.
Who in their right mind would teach that level?
Well…me, I guess.
But then, I’ve never taken the conventional path in life.

Middle school kids can be difficult to teach.
Don’t try to bullshit them.
Never show them any fear or they’ll eat you alive.
Make them laugh.
Tell a joke.
Sing a song.
Whatever you do, just don’t be boring.

They love to ask me,
“Why did you become a teacher?”
I never really know how to answer that properly.
So I usually say,
“Because I just love being abused by young people.”
And that makes them laugh.

The real answer is complicated.
At first I didn’t know what else to do.
Didn’t know what I was good at.
So I decided to try teaching.
It turns out I’m a natural born teacher.
The kids can tell that I love doing it.

Losing my previous teaching gig,
Was so painful and traumatic,
I seriously thought about getting out of it.
But I just can’t imagine doing anything else.
I’ll always be a teacher.

I’ll be a teacher until being a teacher,
Is no longer any fun.

To Sleep, Perchance To Dream

Sleep, where is thy sweet caress?
You tease me,
Though I must confess,
Of late you leave me wanting,
Merely taunting me,
Not wishing me well,
Instead reducing me,
To a reckless shell,
Did I offend somehow?
Let’s mend it now,
I do apologize,
Now I beg of thee,
Anoint mine eyes,
Stroke my cheek,
Remove my sorrow,
To sleep!
And let us not speak of this,
Upon the ‘morrow,
(Though I say forsooth,
In truth, that will not play,
For the ‘morrow
Is in fact today…)