The same student has been quietly observing an ongoing war in her writing class between the teacher (Vicki) and one of her classmates. The battles are so constant, she was moved to poetry. Enjoy!
* * * * *
"The Teacher and the Artist"
His words are free, twisting and turning on the page,
But she thinks they need to be trapped in a cage,
But he doesn’t believe it.
He says we should leave it,
The words don’t really need it,
But she says they do, so she screams,
Punctuation, punctuation, punctuation!
His words are gentle, just rambling around,
But she says he needs to change the sound.
Then his words are screaming,
No longer gently streaming,
Exclamatory, it’s seeming,
So she starts yelling,
Exclamation, exclamation, exclamation!
His words are peaceful, always having the answer
Until she comes along to infect like a cancer.
Until they don’t know what to be.
They don’t know what to see.
They don’t know why she—
Vicki, keeps shouting,
It’s a question, it’s a question, it’s a question!
His words run up hills and never stop.
She says there’s too many “ands,” it’s a little over the top.
Then they have nowhere to go.
They have nowhere to flow.
They don’t really know
Why Vicki keeps saying,
Too many conjunctions, conjunctions, conjunctions!
His words are tangled,
And she wants him strangled.
I say find an in-between.
Make his style seen,
But make it seem clean.
So I turn to her, suggesting,
Go easy on the conventions, conventions, conventions!
Then, I turn to him and say,
Go easy on the accusations, accusations, accusations!
But still it goes on.
* * * * *
Is it just me, or does this spring interesting thoughts for anyone else?
But still it goes on.
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