9. The Student's Complaint

Why must you set exams so long
That even the most speedy one
Is still unfinished when the gong
Announces that the time is gone?

We try and try to satisfy,
And labour at our work until
You think we're surely going to die,
But still we never beat that bell.

So take a little pity on
The ones who do the writing, then
It will be no phenomenon
To see a few more smiles again.

Comments:  This was another piece penned for the student newspaper.

8. The Horrible Deed

He gazed down at the water, so cold and deadly still,
He knew he was a coward, but his mind was very ill.
He swallowed down the swelling lump that rose into his throat,
He faltered not, but started to remove his overcoat.
Garment after garment, he removed with feverish haste,
And shortly he was stripped till he was naked to the waist.
Again he gazed below him where the water beckoned him
To hasten preparations to fulfil his mission grim.
He paused but for a moment, to his fears no doubt dismiss,
Then started on his headlong plunge into that black abyss.
Water flew in all directions, such was his dizzy pace,
And ere a minute had elapsed—he washed his hands and face.

Comments:  As you can see, my Dad had a puckish sense of humour!

7. An Open Letter to the Editor

You loaf around in school all day
Pretending you're at work,
Whenever you get half a chance,
Your duties try to shirk.

You ask me nearly every day,
"Have you written something new?"
You shout and rave and rant and roar
Till your face starts turning blue.

So I sat down one quiet night
And wrote this little piece,
In hope that in the end perhaps
Your noise will finally cease.

I hope that you are satisfied,
So now I will retreat,
And sign myself, as usual,
Your poet pal called
                    "Pete."

P.S.
Forgive me for what I have penned,
It's really meant in fun,
But if you won't believe me, then
I'd better start to run.

Comments: Although clearly target to a school newspaper editor, this poem resonates with anyone who has had to write to deadline.

My father's nickname was "Pete" - I never learned why.

6. Spring Fever

When warmer days return once more,
And school is nothing but a bore,
I'd rather sleep than do the chores,
Spring fever.

The morning is so bright and gay,
I always loiter on the way,
That's why I'm late for school each day.
Spring fever.

In school my thoughts ne'er seem to fail
To through the open window sail,
Out to the brook down in the vale.
Spring fever.

In class my head is always bent
Over my desk, I'm quite content
To spend the day in languishment.
Spring fever.

The teacher watches in disgust;
To take a nap I simply must.
Oh! Can't you see that it is just
Spring fever.

And so in reverie I dwell,
Till teacher gives a mighty yell
And I must hastily dispell
Spring fever.

5. Open Night

Open night comes once a year,
And you should see the haste,
The students hurry everywhere,
Not a minute do they waste.

Open night arrives at last
And people come galore,
The students show them 'round the school
Until their feet are sore.

But they don't mind the worry
That is caused by Open Night,
To help the welcome guests gives them
Unlimited delight.

But when at last it's over,
The students breathe a sigh,
'Cause they can take it easy,
And let the world go calmly by.

4. Little Audrey

'Twas the night before Christmas
And under the tree,
Asettin' a bear trap,
Was Little Audrey.

And later that night
Audrey, lying awake,
Was wondering how long
It was going to take

Before Santa arrived
With his bag full of toys,
That he brings round each year
For good girls and boys.

Down in the parlor
A footstep she heard,
Audrey crept downstairs,
Not saying a word.

A scream split the darkness,
Audrey understood
That she with her bear trap
Had caught Santa's foot.

The language that Santa used
Flowed through the door,
Now she knows there's no Santa --
It was Daddy who swore.


Comments:  The timing of this post may seem odd, as it is now early Summer.  However, I am posting the poems in the order in which my father wrote them.


Little Audrey was a mischievous cartoon character of the late 1940s and early 1950s.  You can learn more about her on Wikipedia.  You may also like to view some of her many animated cartoons on YouTube.

Image:  Little Audrey (ClassicMedia.TV)

3. In Memory Of

They sailed away across the sea
To fight, and die for liberty,
That we might live in sweet content
When destruction seemed so imminent.

The sacrifice these soldiers made,
Pierced by shell and cut by blade,
But never yielding to the foe
Though rations scarce, munitions low.

The war passed on, and left behind
A seeming never-ending line
Of mangled bodies, left to tell
Of what had been a living hell.

And those that came back home again,
Mere shadows of the former men,
Remind us of the infinite debt
We owe to them:  LEST WE FORGET.

-- Alec Taylor (ca. 1944)

Comment: It is sad how relevant this poem continues to be. Will the world never learn?

Photo: Canadian Military Cemetery, Reviers, Normandy (iStockphoto)