Placed 3rd in Joseph May's Eight Words 2 contest, August 2024
***************************************************
“When lilacs last in the dooryard bloomed, . . . ” the weary high-school student read with a sigh. The sun had long since set and darkness loomed. Each night, homework and slumber for Todd’s time vie. His interests do not in somber poetry lie. With misty eyes, his teacher, so deeply affected while reading Whitman’s lines aloud, hoped to stimulate an appreciation for their timeless themes. Often, she corrected the class for childish, insensitive actions that tend to deflate a teacher’s hopes—passing notes, napping, etc.-- Do better times await? No efforts to cajole them into class participation with rewards—extra points, field trips, etc.—have gone far; but their interests in other areas rise to elation: etching on metal, acting, sports, and playing the guitar. Perhaps their view of poetry will someday be up to par.
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.