In one of my uni classes we were asked to share a poem we wrote when we were younger. As we were all English Lit graduates, we had all written poetry at some point. I went to find my poems, feeling sure that I'd find at least a couple of them in my trunk, that reservoir of my memories. I found the right journal immediately, and after flicking through it a bit, found that I had put a small collection of my poems in the back of the book. There were seven, including one that I thought I had lost completely. Just in case I do lose them, I'm going to put them here. Don't feel obliged to read them - or critique them! The Block of Flats The sun is a shimmering wave of heat, Beating relentlessly on the red brick walls Of the block of flats. The still air is thick with humidity; Behind the silence is the hum of traffic, Vast distances away, For a moment there is a slight bustling, A baby cries; a blast of music; a door slams; A slight wind moves paper. The fl...
Personal reflections from my life as a high school teacher with a disability.