I love poetry. But I can’t write a decent one.
Sam sir simply refused to believe that not all his students were capable of rhyming and using rhythm and making sense all at once. So, as a part of his assignment, I HAD to pen one. I was fifteen and back then, for me, the coolest way to write (or express myself) was (trying) to be funny.
Sat up all night trying to write down something. That’s when I heard Ma telling Pa about something that happened at work. So, I bit my lip and went down to work. I crippled that story into a poem. Here’s the poem Sam sir squeezed out of me…
Found being new, a real curse.
She didn’t know Arabic one bit,
All she knew was ‘juloos’ is sit!On the first day in her ward,
She found instructions on a card.
There came a man in funny pants,
Holding a suitcase in his hands.
There he was as big as a bear,
And a long white coat he did wear.
“Good Morning Doc, May I help thee?”
“I am new around here, you see…”
He answered with a huge big smile,
That was almost as long as one mile.
He stood there for a minute or so,
Lifeless, as a dead Dodo.
Does he speak English or Spanish?
Is he Swedish or maybe Danish?
Thinking thus, she just stood there,
Staring at the Great Big Bear.
He placed his suitcase on a stand,
And out came mirrors in his hand!
Razors, combs, and safety pins,
Wigs, scissors and powder tins!
What she saw, almost struck her,