My poetry teacher Miss Took
read out poems out of her book
one poem was so rude
it was verging on lewd
"Thought t'was the other, I mistook"
I do desire we may be better strangers.
— As You Like It, Act 3 Scene 2, Line 254; Orlando to Jacques
She called it venting;
I called it theater.
On a loop, it was non-stop tragedy
with no intermission.
When I spoke of my dreams,
she'd flinch, as if I had farted
during her soliloquy.
So, I paid the bill.
She kept the punchline.
Now we’re strangers again—
better cast this time.
I held out my hand to you,
that's all I planned to do--
a helping hand's all I was thinking of
But you saw through other eyes,
and before I could realize,
you mistook kindness for love.
He Had Mistook Her
He had mistook her
Appeared to be a hooker;
Not a good looker.
Now who could that
possibly be that I am
referring to? Name That
Name should be the start
of a new show.
Jim Horn
My never-ending dreams reveal
That destiny still lies beyond
The horizon; a sacred bond
My mind cannot, dare not conceal
No matter how far I must walk
Or if no ears will hear me talk
To find my fate there is no deal.
Without a map or guiding book
I seek the light to make my way
And find the good in ev’ry day
My quest the time to take a look
For Nature’s beauty fills my dream
In her meadows and babbling stream
My dream surrounds me, no mistook.
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