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.)