The Learnt Lesson

For once the teacher entered,
In a different style,
For this wasn’t usual,
And he began to smile.

He then said ‘today you’ll learn
In a different way, and this you
Won’t forget, however long you stay’

The mischief makers’ silent,
The breeze rustled by,
For this wasn’t easy,
They knew a turned tide.

He then said ‘from now on
You’ll listen and abide,
For this lesson is different,
This is a turned tide…’

He grabbed a boy and flung him,
Right across the room,
He aimed his sheaf and threw it,
It gave a girl her doom,
He then said ‘this lesson,
Contains violence, mischief and grief,
But all you lot are good at that,
You practice on the reef’

He grabbed a girl by the hair,
And throttled her down to the ground,
The room brings mere whispers,
The throttle, a heavy sound.

A boy asked ‘can I go? ‘
The teacher ‘if you want?
But don’t you enjoy this,
Or does it give you, the haunt? ‘
The head stepped in to see,
What the rack was about,
He threw in a pippins grenade,
And then started to shout.

Eventually in the end,
The bloodshed chairs remained,
An empty chair asked
‘Sir what have we gained? ‘

The teacher replied
In a moody way
‘A sense of learning a lesson,
And how to nicely play…’

The stained chair replied
‘Thank you, thank you sir,
I think I’ll go and play,
My friends are waiting outside,
Oh it is a lovely day…? ‘

This poem was written/submitted by Viraj Bhanshaly.