For What It Is Worth

When I was in kindergarten

I would sing Donovan to myself

I would sing Mellow Yellow

As a way to soothe my homesick blues

Because when I raised my hand in the air at my little desk

The other peeps would hush me and say “oh, give it a rest.”

But, but...

I mumbled to myself “I have ideas..”

I had this fourth grade teacher

Who resembled a frog

She had no neck to support her bog

And had moles growing around her two meaty logs

I felt like a spy, got a peek inside her purse, I saw what gave her that “croak”

There's more to this teacher that proves she was just a joke

Like the time I wrote a story about a turkey who collected rocks from around the world

I paced around my grandmas room

Brainstorming my thoughts

Into a metallic pink Talkgirl

It took the whole day

But in the end it was graded as too long

It was 2 pages in its full entirety!

I mumbled to myself “ I liked my ideas..”

In middle school I had a diary

For feelings and such

I stated literally that it was the end at the end of the book

My teacher thought it meant I was suicidal, this she took

I mumbled to myself “I...don't remember my ideas.”

A college professor told me to write a narrative on a life event

I took that opportunity

To tell a tale about a car crash to vent

He said I was “talented”

But the F spoke otherwise

I mumbled to myself “what is an idea?”

All they do is make me cry.