Gone On Holiday, Please Miss

OK. So there’s a teacher in me.

And she shouldn’t say, ‘fuck’ or ‘shit’ or ‘wank’ or other words that may offend. Except there’s a teacher in me. And she won’t go away. And, whatever it takes, that’s what I’ll say. Except not in school. Shit, I’m not stupid!

I was the kid that played schools during the summer holidays. Yup, that was me. I was the teacher to your pupil. I was the better teacher. I was the one that modelled myself on the best of teachers I’d ever had. I was the one that absolutely believed, even back then, that every child had a purpose.

I am the teacher that still believes that.

Do you know what? It may be that that’s just me.

I may just have drifted into the job that fulfilled my own beliefs.

But, do you know what? I’m glad. I’m glad that I see people the way I do, that I get how special they are, that it’s my most important job to communicate that to them until they believe it.

But.

Ahh, there’s always a but.

I have completely and utterly neglected reading posts of some of my favourite bloggers. I have become lost in the myriad posts that find their way to my reader because I followed because I liked their stuff. I liked who they appeared to me to be. I liked them. The essence of them that shone forth from their posts. And I do still like them.

But.

I have found myself gravitating towards something that I did not know would occur.

I am utterly entranced with poetry and I did not know this. Completely. I had always liked it. I had written it in my angst-filled, self-absorbed obsession with clearing my mind. I have always enjoyed reading poetry from the classic poets.

But.

I had no idea I would become so absorbed in the truth and essence that can be conveyed in the poetic words of others, so succinctly and, (not in my case), briefly.

I am in love.

And, like those in love, I am predisposed to my lover.

If I have followed you and not visited you it is not because I no longer admire your words or thoughts. I am simply infatuated and feel I am investigating the poesy and talent of so many and trying to learn from them.

The teacher? Well, she’s kind of gone on holiday. Because the whole purpose of me blogging at all was to get my words out there and, by God, there’s no shutting me up.

But.

I am searching and seeking the enlightenment found within the beauty of chosen words carefully place and it has me fixated.

In love, I said. And so it is.

Cubby, Simon, poetic you and others, you fill me. I am in awe as a teacher, as a person, as a me.

Forgive me, please, I am leaving teacher in the staffroom sometimes to explore the treasures that I seek to emulate in my own way.

Here, on WordPress, I am here to learn, not teach. So, if you’re wondering why my eye has not appeared, (and I do still try to read), know that, quite possibly like everyone else here, I seek to learn as well as teach.

Please Miss, excuse me, but I had diahorrea through a hole in my hat that I got soaked in. And other such excuses that children use to explain erroneous behaviour.

I’m in love. What can I say?

10 thoughts on “Gone On Holiday, Please Miss”

  1. I am more in awe at the little gems that pop up daily on your blog. They are so insightful and meaningful, and they evoke emotion on a level far below the surface. You have the heart of a poet, and it makes sense that you would be drawn to poetry as it flows so naturally within you. That you feel there is anything to learn from me makes me feel honored as I feel there is so much to learn from the many words of wisdom that you offer all of us.

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    1. Magical kitty,
      I was not a cat fan.
      Scary, I’ve thought,
      Until you.
      If felines speak
      As your heart and grace
      I know I should meet one
      Face to face
      And find a place for you.

      A welcome here,
      Should you desire,
      A room,
      I have a few.
      A chat,
      A hug,
      An endless night of
      Conversing,
      Me and you.

      As long, of course,
      Sublime recourse
      Should not falter if I fail
      To match each verse,
      With words not terse
      And see each point of view.

      Telepathic conversation,
      All well and good, I know.
      But hugs to one I recognise
      In heart, in mind and soul
      Is much more blessed
      In human form
      And so I say to you,
      Should body, mind and heart desire
      A break,
      A Scottish, home-made fire.
      Welcome. All for you.

      Do not fret,
      I’m not a stalker!
      But a soul that knows its own.
      Friends I have
      Whose voice is yours
      Whose welcome here
      Would access source.

      Mindful be,
      There’s quite a clan,
      Sometimes overwhelming,
      But all whom I love, they love too,
      You’re welcome,
      They’re discerning.

      A scary invitation!
      But one I say to thee,
      Contact Oliana
      And the two will make
      But three,
      And then, of course,
      My sister
      And my other bestest friend.
      Nights are long in Scotland.
      Conversation does not end.

      See this, as I know it must
      Appear, or so it seems,
      But, wishes born of madness.
      All but foolish dreams,
      But realised,
      Is rarely despised,
      In fact, quite au contraire,
      Momentous adventure
      Daring, doing,
      Here or is it there?

      OK, so you might hate me,
      Or ditto in reverse.
      Get a hotel,
      I’ll go halfers!
      That, surely, is the worst?

      It’s up to you.
      It’s genuine.
      I do not speak
      And run.
      Hey, Cubby,
      Fly a plane,
      Come to Scotland!
      Have some fun!

      If dog should bark
      At kitty’s scent
      I’ll farm him for a fortnight.

      You won’t come.
      That’s not why I asked.
      But fears are hard to bear.
      If it were me, what would I do?
      Well, that depends on where
      And who and why and how long
      And if I felt supported.
      Litter is ready, should you wish,
      It’s not like you’ll be deported!

      Hey, worry not, it’s up to you.
      But, seriously, ‘twould be a pleasure.
      I know I love you just because
      Your heart knows something of my measure.

      I can talk shit,
      It’s understood
      By all who know me well.
      But, guarantee,
      They know this too
      I never kiss and tell.
      I do not say what is not true,
      I speak as I do find it.
      It’s up to you
      Dear tiger like
      Can you believe
      What soul
      Invites?

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      1. I fear that I am nothing like
        The feline self you see,
        In fact I have a very
        Different personality.

        I’m really somewhat clumsy
        And I can’t land on my feet,
        And socially I’m awkward –
        You’d see this if we meet.

        Easily I’m overwhelmed
        By people, sights, and sound,
        They make me want to dig my head
        Deep down into the ground.

        I rarely smile when I am out
        Because when I was young
        I was teased about my chipmunk cheeks
        And deeply this has stung.

        And though I’ve lost my baby fat
        I still feel rather odd
        To smile with true sincerity –
        I feel that I’m a fraud.

        This doesn’t mean that I don’t feel
        A smile lit deep within,
        It just does not display itself
        The same way as a grin.

        On top of all these other things
        I may seem rather bland
        Because I do not talk a lot,
        I hope you understand.

        But if you are okay with all
        The things that you have read,
        Then to Scotland all my dreams have
        Flown already in my stead.

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      2. Well, feline dear,
        Please this do hear,
        I care not for the outward.
        I close my eyes
        And learn to love what others
        See as awkward.
        Invitation stands
        For dreams
        And also for the person.
        I welcome souls
        Within the whole
        This is my lifelong lesson.
        Should kitty feet
        Feel pleased to meet
        On Scottish soil, such bliss,
        Those things you see as troublesome
        Would melt with Scottish mist.
        I don’t dismiss
        Your feelings
        Or your sentiment. No liar.
        If wheels need turning
        I have hands
        They’re free and not for hire.
        Consider well,
        That some will speak
        And some will always listen.
        Consider, too,
        What’s seen as gold
        In hearts, does not always glisten.
        I cherish friends
        So few to find,
        Those in heart
        And spirit, mind.
        Should space divide for evermore
        And flight seem way too daunting.
        Be sure your dreams are welcome here
        As presence is now wanting.
        A little thought to end this missive,
        Be not hard on kitten
        Beauty is as beauty speaks and does
        And leaves all kitty lovers
        Smitten.x

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    2. I am totally schucksified. Is that a new word? I wish I had learned so long ago to notice that what I thought was self-absorption may, possibly, have been acuity of thought. It has taken me until now to realise what others have always known. I bow.x

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    3. Self-absorption can be good or bad depending on what results from it. In your case, self-absorption sounds more like introspection and reflection which leads to greater understanding and wisdom. When it comes to writing, you can be absorbed with your own thoughts and yet outwardly focused at the same time. This is what I see in your writing…an absorption that is reflected outwardly to create powerful writing. 🙂

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  2. It’s beautiful and exciting to read you my friend. I get it! You DO have talent and should continue to blossom as you have. You say I am more confident that is due to guidance from you, Cubby, and learning from amazing writers like Simon, Shirley, Kalabalu and so many more I keep discovering. Namaste:)

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    1. And every time I read another source that those I admire follow, I find myself curious to know what they have to say. And so it evolves. And my reader looks, as so many others must, like eclectic mashed potato. I like mashed potato, fortunately. And I love my new friends. Starting with you. ) x

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