PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Nadav had rough skin

when he touched

it was like sandpaper

rubbing flesh

girls have a habit

of boring me

to tears

he said

I looked

at Miss Ashdown's

broad behind

as she walked down

the aisle between desks

in class

her skirt swayed

like old ship's sails

all they talk of

is dolls and prams

and doll's clothes

and about whom

they'll marry

one day

I wondered

if Miss Ashdown's hips

wore away the wood

at the side

of the desks

as she walked

between them

I prefer boy's talk

of guns and battles

and wars and such

he said

I watched

as Miss Ashdown
turned and faced

the front of the class

her big bust

like battleship guns

do you like girl's talk?

Nadav asked

I like their gentleness

and softness

and smell of flowers

I said

but talk?

he said

what of that?

the knack

I said

is to listen

only to the last

few words of speech

to get the drift

of talk

Miss Ashdown

glared at Nadav

and threw

skill fully

chunks of chalk.