Bud the Teacher

3 responses so far ↓

• Ken Allan // Apr 12th 2009 at 2:54 am

  I was to be called shelly.

  That’s the name my mother chose
  before they took me
  and washed me
  and shone the light.

  They say never count your eggs.
  When I asked they wouldn’t tell
  the next bit. Just looked and stared.

  And now I wait
  in this cold place.

  It’s been a long time
  since the light shone again.

  Ken Allans last blog post..What Is Learnt From Community?

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• Kevin Hodgson // Apr 12th 2009 at 3:44 am

  Cracked Egg

  You crack me up
  the way you refuse the join the crowd:
  where others are content to sit and wait for their chance,
  your impatience always gets the best of you;
  where others remain happy to be part of the bunch,
  you walk along the eggshells, snapping pieces off
  in order to expose yourself as unique,
  and more interesting than the rest of the them all.
  Oh, where you reside,
  there are sunny-side ups — and worlds, over-easy –
  but you scramble the expectations, don’t you?
  Keep cool, my friend, or you’ll rot from the inside out
  and get tossed away as another outcast
  who raised too much of a fuss.

  Listen to the poem: http://www.box.net/shared/static/y3m5h5di7j.mp3

  Kevin Hodgsons last blog post..Blogging Across the School District

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• Connie Masson // Apr 13th 2009 at 8:06 am

  READY?

  Two dozen
  All in a row
  Logical, neat
  Smooth, and round

  Perfect symmetry
  Freckles and all
  Some darker tans
  All neat rows

  Except one
  What happened?
  Did they bully him?
  Did they squish him ‘till he cracked?

  His yoke is busted
  His shell in cracked
  He wasn’t ready
  For the world yet.

  Are they?

  Connie Massons last blog post..Legacies

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