There’s a panda tap dancing in hobnails
There’s an octopus mixing up cocktails
A bush kangaroo
Blows on a kazoo
While the band are all tadpoles or pond-snails
A gorilla is dancing the tango
With a chimp who’s still holding a mango
The chimp wins the crown
For getting on down
To the lambada and the fandango
At the bar there’s a drunk alligator
And he’s fancies a croc who’s the waiter
With so many teeth
He knew there’d be grief
So he’s seeing a pelican later
Well the peacock so prim and resplendent
Gave his coat to the cloakroom attendant
Chicks don’t check him out
Because he’s without
His plumage on which he’s dependant
Then the moose said it soon will be nine
Please finish your beer or your wine
It’s eight fifty-eight
His key’s in the gate
So try not to leave any sign
There's a pen near the big rabbit hutch
With a sign saying please do not touch
A young lad from Goring
Said Pandas are boring
They don’t seem to do very much
Categories:
cloakroom, animal,
Form: Limerick
A curious cocktail of odours greets us
as we move in from playground
to corridor, to cloakroom, to classroom.
Beeswax fragrance: freshly buffed parquet.
Brasso smell: base metal turned to gold.
Jeyes Fluid: vapour killing vile germs.
Such alchemy starts our day with clean slate.
Playground cacophony left behind.
Now each sound has discipline, has purpose.
First bell: registration shall begin.
Next bell: proceed to assembly hall.
Lasses stand on round marks; lads on square marks.
Regular rows, parallel precision.
Stand to attention. Uniform inspection.
At ease. Handshakes and smiles. Peace be with you.
Silence pervades as we ponder our sins.
With ramrod fingers Miss thumps on the keys.
Staccato. Left. Right.
'Ride on Ride on in Majesty'.
A short sermon on compassion is served.
Then, school notices: soccer successes
and the listing of scallywags destined
for public thrashing at high noon next day.
Third bell: learning shall begin.
RI lesson. St Paul's Journey yet again.
In silence we colour in his route map.
With crayons on auto-pilot we day dream.
Our apostle arrives in Rome by morning break.
Categories:
cloakroom, bible, education, faith, religion,
Form: Free verse
The Teacher
by Edmund Siejka
His grandchildren were playing
Shrieks and laughter
Tugging at his memory
Catapulting him on a journey
Back to his childhood.
Three brothers
One sister
And he made five.
Being the youngest
And the smallest of the lot
Family watched over him
And mother spoiled him.
In third grade
He was just a face
In Mrs. Early’s crowded classroom
Sitting all the way in the back
Near the cloakroom.
Teacher watched him
Doing his best
Memorizing multiplication tables
Division and subtraction
Reading adventure stories
Of pirates, cowboys and space machines.
At recess his sister would look for him
To see if he was OK
And at the end of a long school day
There was always an older brother to walk him home.
Looking back those were kinder days
Easy days
Fun days
When every day was a Saturday.
He recalled his teacher’s kindness
How she welcomed him to her class
With a smile and a hug
But the one thing he always remembered
When he met her again
Years and years ago
Was that she never forgot his name.
Categories:
cloakroom, life,
Form: Narrative
You feel like in the storage room
Like a coat hanging in the cloakroom
that nobody remembers of
No, you would never forget
You just can't decide where to go if you take it back
And face it, you wait a little for someone to take it
Be glad and say
Well! This is the coat I have always wanted
But no one is coming to take it
Because it is you(r) coat
Must decide what with it now
Summer winter
spring autumn
And maybe this coat just wants to say
I am waiting for May
Or November
And then you wear it and go
To search for happiness
Or just to find out
What it means
Categories:
cloakroom, absence, future, happiness, hope,
Form: Free verse