Another Day in Geography
Here I sit,
Quietly in geography.
And what do I hear,
Barely above the cacophony,
The teacher assigns--
It's a dreaded awful task he has given us.
My mind oozes and fills with pus.
I would rather break a bone--
Or even be sent home.
The thing he as asked--
Is for us to write a poem.
It's a fate I feared the mosta.
Not just any ole poem,
But one in !Xhosa.
ENGLISH IS DUM
English is dum.
Speaking makes me want to suck my thum.
O how I long to go--
Please send me hom to my beloved chatteaux.
And for a change an actually somewhat serious posting...
Boots & Hat
Boots and Hat are near and dear to a man.
They'll carry you, and protect you just as long as they can.
If my Boots and Hat could speak,
They'd tell you how they long for those far off mountain peaks.
My Boots and Hat would say:
Everything they'd done that day.
These Boots, this Hat, they've seen far off lands. They've seen the sea--
This Hat, these Boots, and me.
These Boots, they never let time pass by.
Life's just too short. This Hat knows, it's seen a man die.
These Boots, they had two older brothers.
Well they served and far they hiked. Where they went there were few others.
Two dear old friends, broken down and longing rest;
Just how long and far they traveled is anyone's guess.
They had their stumbles and their falls.
Those brave soles almost saw a man not make it at all.
My Hat too had a friend.
That Old Hat walked trails where many met their end.
That Hat saw stars above; and the trees below.
This Hat trod upon ground now sacred and Hallow'd
Carry your Boots with peace; hold your Hat up high.
Live! And don't let life pass you by.