Practicing hard at his yoga,
Cato convolved with his toga.
The news he was caught
In this Gordian Knot
Spread to the land of Busoga.
We stood dressed like Romans of long ago
Our togas rustled in the wind
Echoing our mixed emotions on that day
As we lined outside the great hall.
When at last we heard the familiar strain
So we straightened our backs and walked
Conversations ceased as we filed in twos
Entered the hall and took our seats.
Thus everything ended on one special day
All our hardship, our toils, and tears
But as we each received that piece of scroll
We didn’t know what to make of it.
March 18, 2023
2nd Place
Graduation Day Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Craig Cornish
There was an old man from Saratoga
Who always wore an old Roman toga
Spice of parties they’d shout
Showing bony knees he’d flout
Till he froze to death in North Dakota.
toga party waking up without my sheet
Tony wants to teach Mary some yoga,
While dressed in a short, little toga
He bends over the mat,
Where she just then had sat.
From jail Tony cannot now teach yoga.
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