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    dots Submission Name: English Teacherdots

    Author: CleoCollier
    ASL Info:    40/F/South
    Elite Ratio:    4.44 - 83/84/26
    Words: 142
    Class/Type: Poetry/Angry
    Total Views: 877
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 1123

       Ever noticed how English teachers always seem either WAY oversexed, or total celibate live for the word dormant sex fiends?
    HAHAHAHA I've prolly just insulted someone.
    Let's all admit it-everyone wants to get laid-spectacularly laid, & will put up with a LOT of crap to get there!!

    Make the font bigger!! Double Spacing Back to recent posts.

    dotsEnglish Teacherdots

    She quoted Keats and I succumbed,
    my sloe-eyed Clementine.
    A diamond ring, a mojo hand
    could not keep her in line.
    I sense it in the sneer of her
    tentatively curved lips
    tasting of hasty sunburnt mirth,
    passion not divulged to mine.

    Cuckold is a transitive verb,
    and I'm the direct object,
    That cheatin' vixen's indirect,
    and I'm her latest project

    That queen bee diagramming
    verbal retentive diva,
    deconstructive, revisionist
    prevaricating Shiva
    journeys too wild, cold and faithless,
    chasing the vague dangling
    notion of passion through carnage.
    I'll save myself and leave her.

    Cuckold is a transitive verb,
    and I'm the direct object.
    That cheatin' vixen's indirect,
    and I'm her latest project.

    That treacherous Shakespeare dominatrix-
    buddy, don't think you were the first disruptive,
    young man who couldn't be taught a thing or two.

    Submitted on 2006-01-14 18:09:45     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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    ||| Comments |||
      Bridge? Is this a song or a poem?
    Well, you posted it as poetry. What makes a poem? Rhyme? True, and you use it here, you know words forwards and back, they rhyme.
    But what about rhythm? Can you dance to this? For the subject, carnal knowledge, I should think there would be rhythm.
    And what makes a poem? Special words, words that you may not hear every day, at least not in the context the poet displays them in. But if merely large, fancy words made a poem then the scientists would be the greatest poets.
    What makes a poem? Sharing a special moment, feeling, concept or idea? Well, perhaps this is a poem about insulting, or belittling someone, someone you may know, or an amalgam of all the teachers you know. I don't know. But to me, this does not enrich, this does not appeal. Not because it isn't my style. No. It's a lovely glass, but not my drink.
    Sorry. I can tell though, you could do better.
    I bet you've heard that from teachers before too.
    | Posted on 2006-01-15 00:00:00 | by Sandburg | [ Reply to This ]

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