Sunday, September 23, 2007

My Teacher Sometimes Turns Into A Glumph

This is a poem I just wrote, possibly for a children's story, possibly not. I think illustrations to this would be awesomely fun. Also - it is in iambic pentameter! In fact, it is basically an English sonnet, but with one extra quatrain thrown into the mix.

My Teacher Sometimes Turns Into A Glumph

My teacher sometimes turns into a Glumph,

When all her niceness goes away and hides,

And meanness settles in her with a “humph!”

She eats our snack and steals our swings and slides.

And in this state she caught me throw a book --

A small transgression, nothing like a crime --

And pointed with her finger to a nook --

The corner where I was to do my time.

Against the wall I stood, scolding my tears,

When suddenly, I was called back to play.

I studied Teacher and gave up my fears

For it was clear the Glumph had gone away.

The room lit up at once with Teacher’s cure.

All meanness gone - yes, not one thing was bad.

And happily we, as a class, were sure

Our teacher was the nicest ever had.

Your teacher’s nice, I’m sure, but don’t harrumph,

Be wary when she turns into a Glumph.

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