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What Chaucer forgot By: Chie Theresa Fujioka on 11/9/2010; 2:25 AM The Teacher: Prologue There was a teacher of older age Whose hair implied that of a sage Above his head this cloud arose. Just as plethoric was his nose Which long and skinny did protrude. His frame in that one could include But the belly was the exclusion Good eating evidenced by that protrusion. Juxtapose the nose, blue eyes were fixed Peering past the black bound frames betwixt. A tunic and black pants he wore Although I'm not quite sure what for. London birth provoked curious speech, Yet other accents, he could one of each. More intriguing speaking was the way His hands embellished what his words would say. But what stood out about his looks Was his large assortment of coloured socks But it was never he would be seen Wearing any shade called green About this fact, his tale is told Answer to the questions manifold. The Teacher’s Tale Long ago and far away Actually last St. Patrick’s day Dismally overcast, the air was hot. Abnormal weather this was not: The moisture of the coming rain, Sticky thick, rather mundane. A class I had again to teach Where only I was blest with speech Or so it seemed since no one said A thing unless forcefully led. The long thin finger of the clock Did my very patience mock As it meandered to the top Only down again to drop… My students stared into the air As if to burn a black hole there. The heavy lid and glassy eye The sleepy shrug, unhappy sigh. But suddenly there came a rapping! No… only some fingers tapping. On that day I had worn green, Without which I would have been Humiliated to the merciless pinches Of vengeful educated lads and wenches. Student spirit was naturally depleted Another “fun” day not completed. By a monstrous force was I assailed All attempts towards teaching failed: First a monster ran through the hall, A monster which was far from small. With three ears and a GQX shaped nose Three million coins hung on his clothes. His hair like furballs of a cat Ingested, digested and re-spat. A mushroom cap upon his head He ran about with feet of lead. The students woke to enact a clamor As if they had never seen one before! Could restore equilibrium From this anti-learning pandemonium? But soon enough, as luck would have it, Fate was intent on wreaking havoc. A corner computer quietly retired, Stood up, and itself unwired. The Cyclops turned its boxy eye Blinked, babbled, beeped and waved good-bye Lectured on computer rights Then skittered out with flickering lights. Other computers, following his lead, Had a quick conference, and soon agreed, Threw off their bondage, plastic, wire, Lit firecrackers and caught on fire. Careening about, with pops and a bang Shrapnel screeching speedily sang. While I tried to impede the flames Marshmallows roasted, students played games. Some others sat with mouths agape Their lips forming a O-like shape. Some interviewed the surviving rebels Who blipped and burped at inaudible levels. And some still slept... The books, not wanting to be exempt From the class-wide celebration Left for a well-deserved vacation Leaving words piled on the floor Bent and tangled, not coherent anymore. Their jagged corners, edges and points Curves, flats, sharps and joints Reached out, brambles my clothes to snag ‘Til my tunic was a tattered rag. By then my nerves were very jumpy And I began to feel quite grumpy. Why did things have to go amiss When I wore the color green like this? Since then I’ve been superstitious And i'll admit, overly suspicious Of everything that may be green Plants, people, and clothes, I wean. Which is why you see none on my feet. (Just a note: this was written for english lit class and describes the teacher who always wore wacky colour socks... except green, which IS my favorite colour) Lines removed Except near the stomach where Proof of good food he did neatly bear. And when he smiled, he smiled not; Instead he grinned at us a lot.) (And though I don’t wish to be mean T’was a shame that he lacked green). Saw not the winged creature droning by In the window, out the door Actor in our lives no more… Written 2001 Edit 2010
RE: What Chaucer forgot By: Evan on 2/4/2002; 11:55 AM This is absolutely wonderful. I do have one question though. What is a GQX shaped nose? Oh and green's my favorite color too.
RE: What Chaucer forgot By: Chie Theresa Fujioka on 2/5/2002; 7:04 AM Everyone asks me that. In fact, when i saw that you had one question, I immediately knew what it was. i.e. EVERYONE. use thine imagination. I know you have a good one. YAY! I wore almost all green today... my new green jacket, a green shirt, green backpack, green key, keychain, phone strap glass thingy, eyeshadow, umbrella and bottle of tea. And I was so jealous!! I saw two females with awesome green pants... but was to shy to ask where they got them *darn* Im trying to find some so that i can be very green for st pats
RE: What Chaucer forgot By: Mark Morgan on 2/5/2002; 2:16 PM Chie, looks like you need BRs at the end of lines, or to wrap it in PRE tags. I think I'm going to automate poetry formatting so you don't have to do that yourself. That won't be for a little bit, though, so you should edit the piece.
RE: What Chaucer forgot By: ScottN on 2/5/2002; 3:28 PM I was going to say something about that, but then I figured that she maybe wanted it that way.
RE: What Chaucer forgot By: Evan on 2/5/2002; 3:46 PM I've seen green pants somewhere. I don't quite remember where though. Now that I think about it, not many of my clothes are green for some reason. I guess that's because they don't make green Cheeseburger in Paradise shirts. Actually I do have a pair of green pants if my family didn't donate them to charity. They were part of my boy scout uniform. Arghhh headless chickens running around on everybody's heads!!!!!!!!
RE: What Chaucer forgot By: Chie Theresa Fujioka on 2/6/2002; 7:45 AM oh ops I forgot them b/c i copied it from word.
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