Saturday, 1 November 2014

Imaginary Days- "It"

I'm cheating this week, because I wrote this poem at least three years ago. However, as NaNoWriMo starts today, I'm oh so very busy.


We marched up to our places,
we didn't dare to breath,
No expressions on our faces,
 as the sword fell from its sheath.

The creature stomped in slowly,
 its beady eyes alight,
 Its clothes black and baggy,
its fists clenched for a fight.

 It glared around the room,
a frown upon its face.
 The fear, impending doom,
its behaviour a disgrace.

 Its stained teeth were nothing,
when compared with its manky nails,
And from its mouth came pouring,
lines of dribble in short trails.

It barked out random orders,
  slumping in its chair.
Its vile breath spread for acres,
  its B.O clogged the air.

We did our work in silence,
  we did not dare to speak.
 When the bell rang, in an instant,
from the lesson we did sneak.

We all despised our teacher,
that's why we called her 'it'.
She was a violent preacher,
the rest I will omit.

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