Clara, who comes to our advanced general English class and CPE exam class, has written this wonderful poem for the blog.
A poet sitting by a lonely lake
was busy working on a complex rhyme,
when, suddenly, he did a double take:
The clock said 4! He had lost track of time.
He knew for sure his mum would make a fuss,
if he`d be late for tea. He should have checked
the time, for now, he’d clearly miss the bus
and this would have a grave knock-on effect.
The poet’s mum’s short fuse was widely known.
He’d always either pander to her whims
or give her a wide berth and watch his tone,
whilst dedicating to her countless hymns.
He made it home, I cannot pinpoint when,
but was, from then on, never seen again.
(Regarding any of this poem’s quirks, I refer to poetic licence.)