POEMS OF THE DAY

Two Poems

The Lesson
It's as if the god of unhappiness, of low-level discontent at least,
         injected his serum into our veins when born, inoculating us
from feeling good for long. He's like a grim schoolmaster
         patrolling the playground, reminding children
they've only a minute or two before the line-up bell,
         darkening unconscious happiness, marring natural mirth
with back-burner anxiety, fretful they'll have to line up soon
         and march back into interminable lessons, tests,
right and wrong answers, punishment, the classroom's dolor,
         learning by rote, the slow tick of the metronome,
the weight of responsibility; that life isn't all play.

To a Teacher
Once more you stand before a cabal of ephebi,
instructing them how to look at the sun.
You pin-hole a sheet of paper.
The light is blacked out, then emerges
out of the night of the moon.
                          Some pupils observe,
lit by learning, others show
not a glimmer of interest. How
can you guide them away
from eclipsing Acedia, Confusion,
Mammon: the dark gods of our day?
You bow your head as if before a shrine
reaching to set a candle alight.

Greg Delanty