Teacher (Poetry)

I wrote this around two years ago, sitting in a lecture. The teacher was ruggy and old and all together unpleasant to the eye. He was, in that deliciously Nigerian way, an ‘eyesore’, but it was less his appearance that moved me to write this poem as it was the scantness of his knowledge of what he taught. As scant as the greyed stubble on his chin. 

Green veins sticking out of pale skin

beads of sweat like the devil’s hallmark

across face blinding eyes

eyes bright red betraying lethargy

a dozen hand movements in the flash of a second

incongruous as yet without definition

rise and fall fall and rise of throaty voice

thinning deepening precisely at the wrong times

air of authority that stinks

dirty as the collar of your ugly shirt

the need to make a point

the point to make ends meet

the confusion in your mind

becoming the confusion in our minds

the sleeping groaning chatting audience

these are your curse poor teacher.


One thought on “Teacher (Poetry)

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