The Professor

It is a classroom
and the professor
stands in front
telling his opinions.
Every student
standing and
reciting a poem
they have written,
only to be embarrassed
by him.

His comparisons
to work he has known
over the years
I know disturbs him.
He knows everyone's work
and has none of his own.
I sit there looking at him
and can see the lost life
in his eyes.

A man blasting his students
and comparing them
to the greats.
Shelley, Emerson and Keats,
but nothing of his own
to compare with.
Knowing how to write
and examine,
but nothing in his own soul
worthy of putting on paper.
His constant frown
and displeasure
with the world
surely shows.

I’m certain
when he gets done
with his class today,
he will go to the bathroom
and choose a stall.
He will sit
and unload
into it.
A smile
will come to his face
when he looks down
and admires
what he left behind.

It is the only thing
each day
that he creates
on his own
which can put a smile
on his face.

His pen
lets him down
every day.

 

-Kurt Rees