Just a little sonnet I wrote before I went to bed (!) I quite like it, but then it's late.

23rd December

Over the past few weeks, there are lots of

Events I’ve wanted to write poems about but

Haven’t and probably it’s better, cos

Even I don’t want to hear about

Trying to catch his rancid breath in my

Mouth. Staff room panics and feedback sessions-

‘I was surprised that you kept going out’.

Stupid dreams in dirty beds. Goodbye-less.

Bugs. Voices: Negative ones. Changing pace

And now, Christmas holiday, not working as hard

As I should, though outside the sky darkens.

The sea creeps over the rocks and black sand

And I look out as I work, constantly

Wishing, yes, that I’ll be able to teach this.