Before the White Boards

[Keith]

You don’t forget a covalent bond
when pupils move like molecules,
tectonic plates are easy to grasp
when desks slide into continents,

But Billy Bentham
had a pub lunch
and came back with greasy lips,
ready to burst and beat the shit
out of any would-be noise maker,
rule breaker, I wasn't a chance taker.

So I sat and watched
the playing field crows
meeting at the murder.
Dodging the borrowed shorts brigade
skulking off for a bike shed smoke,
with pale legs and black plimsolls,
a flat footed 1500 meter cough.

Others went to Malham cove
so they could recall a limestone pavement,
categorise real rock samples,
with home made hammers,
too precious to throw away
like the memories they still keep,
nearly thirty years later.

But Billy Bentham had a bulbous nose,
riddled with tiny red veins,
each one swimming in whiskey,
the fumes were monotone
that killed inflection,
dictated daily from a syllabus bed time book.
He was easily mistook
for a teacher.

[BenjaminShaw]

You don’t forget a covalent bond I like the first line but there seems something awkward rhythmically speaking in this first stanza
when pupils are dressed as beach balls,
and tectonic plates are easy to grasp
when desks divide a continent.

But Billy Bentham this stanza is much better rhythmically speaking
had a pub lunch
and came back with greasy lips,
ready to burst and beat the shit
out of any would-be noise maker,
rule breaker, I wasn't a chance taker.

So I sat and watched
the playing field crows
meeting at the murder.
Dodging the borrowed shorts brigade
skulking off for a bike shed smoke,
with pale legs and black plimsolls,
a flat footed 1500 meter cough.

Others went to Malham cove
so they could recall a limestone pavement,
categorise real rock samples, categorize
with home made hammers,
too precious to throw away
like the memories they still keep,
nearly thirty years later.

But Billy Bentham had a bulbous nose,
riddled with tiny red veins,
each one swimming in whiskey,
the fumes were monotone
that killed inflection,
dictated daily from a syllabus bed time book.
He was easily mistook, Maybe no comma here... I'm not sure
for a teacher. This ending seems a little sharp considering the flow of the rest of the poem. I am sure you could make one just as impacting... maybe a little longer

Overall a very interesting a fun read

[StanleyZ]

You don’t forget a covalent bond
when pupils are dressed as beach balls,
and tectonic plates are easy to grasp
when desks divide a continent.

But Billy Bentham
had a pub lunch
and came back with greasy lips,
ready to burst and beat the shit
out of any would-be noise maker,
rule breaker, I wasn't a chance taker.

So I sat and watched
the playing field crows
meeting at the murder.
Dodging the borrowed shorts brigade
skulking off for a bike shed smoke,
with pale legs and black plimsolls,
a flat footed 1500 meter cough.

Others went to Malham cove
so they could recall a limestone pavement,
categorise real rock samples,
with home made hammers,
too precious to throw away
like the memories they still keep,
nearly thirty years later.

But Billy Bentham had a bulbous nose,
riddled with tiny red veins,
each one swimming in whiskey,
the fumes were monotone
that killed inflection,
dictated daily from a syllabus bed time book.
He was easily mistook,
for a teacher.

This speaker seems quite indifferent to all the people described here. The fact that he/she describes the desks as separating a continent reinforces the distance this atmosphere creates. Is the speaker trying to say that the reason he/she can still recall what a covalant bond after 30 years is, because he/she was not distracted by the other students, and also out of fear of the teacher? One thing I'm having trouble with is figuring out the beach ball metaphor. If my pupils were dressed like beach balls I don't think I would pass that class, after all the connotation of beach ball instantly brings the thought of the beach to mind, I get a lot of skimpy outfits when I imagine it, you know bikinis and all. Maybe that is just me being a lecher, but if that is what you were going for I don't quite grasp how it is relevant to the rest of the descriptions here. Everything else is dreary and serious. In fact I think knowledge/learning is the most positively described thing in this poem. Ole Billy takes the role of bad guy. Even his name sounds menacing, and I like how you used his first name, not giving him the satisfaction of being categorized as a teacher at all. Coming to work drunk, and fighting with students, is that what school was like before the white boards? O.O I'm guessing the time frame of this poem is circa 1970, a time when plimsolls were relevant. I really liked your stanza about the football field and gym class. The field crows and the borrowed shorts brigade. This speaker is starting to come off as a little Holden Caulfieldy. Then the non-athletes are back on the subject of geology. Nice symbolism there given the images in the first stanza. These "Others" seem to be the ones that get the best experience out of all of this. After all they still keep their memories. The last stanza is a little choppy, which would be fine, but it doesn't seem as natural as everything else so far. There are some good lines, I would just like to see something really tie into those emphatic last lines a little smoother. Over all this speaker is reminiscent of a very authentic experience, perhaps your own, and it comes off genuine. I think that is good execution. A few more drafts to get your wording down pat and this piece will be ready for the printing presses!

[Keith]

You don’t forget a covalent bond  I like the first line but there seems something awkward rhythmically speaking in this first stanza
when pupils are dressed as beach balls,
and tectonic plates are easy to grasp
when desks divide a continent.

But Billy Bentham  this stanza is much better rhythmically speaking
had a pub lunch
and came back with greasy lips,
ready to burst and beat the shit
out of any would-be noise maker,
rule breaker, I wasn't a chance taker.

So I sat and watched
the playing field crows
meeting at the murder.
Dodging the borrowed shorts brigade
skulking off for a bike shed smoke,
with pale legs and black plimsolls,
a flat footed 1500 meter cough.

Others went to Malham cove
so they could recall a limestone pavement,
categorise real rock samples, categorize
with home made hammers,
too precious to throw away
like the memories they still keep,
nearly thirty years later.

But Billy Bentham had a bulbous nose,
riddled with tiny red veins,
each one swimming in whiskey,
the fumes were monotone
that killed inflection,
dictated daily from a syllabus bed time book.
He was easily mistook, Maybe no comma here... I'm not sure
for a teacher.  This ending seems a little sharp considering the flow of the rest of the poem. I am sure you could make one just as impacting... maybe a little longer

Overall a very interesting a fun read

Hi BenjaminShaw
I will have a look at the stanza's you highlight, not sure I have a solution for the opening but your comments are helpful, thank you for taking the time, best Keith

[Keith]

You don’t forget a covalent bond
when pupils are dressed as beach balls,
and tectonic plates are easy to grasp
when desks divide a continent.

But Billy Bentham
had a pub lunch
and came back with greasy lips,
ready to burst and beat the shit
out of any would-be noise maker,
rule breaker, I wasn't a chance taker.

So I sat and watched
the playing field crows
meeting at the murder.
Dodging the borrowed shorts brigade
skulking off for a bike shed smoke,
with pale legs and black plimsolls,
a flat footed 1500 meter cough.

Others went to Malham cove
so they could recall a limestone pavement,
categorise real rock samples,
with home made hammers,
too precious to throw away
like the memories they still keep,
nearly thirty years later.

But Billy Bentham had a bulbous nose,
riddled with tiny red veins,
each one swimming in whiskey,
the fumes were monotone
that killed inflection,
dictated daily from a syllabus bed time book.
He was easily mistook,
for a teacher.

This speaker seems quite indifferent to all the people described here. The fact that he/she describes the desks as separating a continent reinforces the distance this atmosphere creates. Is the speaker trying to say that the reason he/she can still recall what a covalant bond after 30 years is, because he/she was not distracted by the other students, and also out of fear of the teacher? One thing I'm having trouble with is figuring out the beach ball metaphor. If my pupils were dressed like beach balls I don't think I would pass that class, after all the connotation of beach ball instantly brings the thought of the beach to mind, I get a lot of skimpy outfits when I imagine it, you know bikinis and all. Maybe that is just me being a lecher, but if that is what you were going for I don't quite grasp how it is relevant to the rest of the descriptions here. Everything else is dreary and serious. In fact I think knowledge/learning is the most positively described thing in this poem. Ole Billy takes the role of bad guy. Even his name sounds menacing, and I like how you used his first name, not giving him the satisfaction of being categorized as a teacher at all. Coming to work drunk, and fighting with students, is that what school was like before the white boards? O.O I'm guessing the time frame of this poem is circa 1970, a time when plimsolls were relevant. I really liked your stanza about the football field and gym class. The field crows and the borrowed shorts brigade. This speaker is starting to come off as a little  Holden Caulfieldy. Then the non-athletes are back on the subject of geology. Nice symbolism there given the images in the first stanza. These "Others" seem to be the ones that get the best experience out of all of this. After all they still keep their memories. The last stanza is a little choppy, which would be fine, but it doesn't seem as natural as everything else so far. There are some good lines, I would just like to see something really tie into those emphatic last lines a little smoother.  Over all this speaker is reminiscent of a very authentic experience, perhaps your own, and it comes off genuine. I think that is good execution. A few more drafts to get your wording down pat and this piece will be ready for the printing presses!

High StanleyZ
The Bikini thing is just you being a lech   no metaphor, it is when an atom shares a pair of electrons, I was just trying to highlight that a good teacher engages children and a good visual prop is one way. Most of my poems have something from my past tucked inside and this is no exception. You guessed the time frame correct and I find your insight very interesting. I will take your advice and go over some of the wording. Many thanks Keith

[Mwaba don]

You don’t forget a covalent bond
when pupils are dressed as beach balls,
and tectonic plates are easy to grasp
when desks divide a continent.

But Billy Bentham
had a pub lunch
and came back with greasy lips,
ready to burst and beat the shit
out of any would-be noise maker,
rule breaker, I wasn't a chance taker.

So I sat and watched
the playing field crows
meeting at the murder.
Dodging the borrowed shorts brigade
skulking off for a bike shed smoke,
with pale legs and black plimsolls,
a flat footed 1500 meter cough.

Others went to Malham cove
so they could recall a limestone pavement,
categorise real rock samples,
with home made hammers,
too precious to throw away
like the memories they still keep,
nearly thirty years later.

But Billy Bentham had a bulbous nose, ( I love the rhyme)
riddled with tiny red veins,
each one swimming in whiskey,
the fumes were monotone
that killed inflection,
dictated daily from a syllabus bed time book.
He was easily mistook, (do you really need a comma here).
for a teacher.

Nice tile. Your poem was interesting to read.
I got Hooked from the first line.

[Keith]

You don’t forget a covalent bond
when pupils are dressed as beach balls,
and tectonic plates are easy to grasp
when desks divide a continent.

But Billy Bentham
had a pub lunch
and came back with greasy lips,
ready to burst and beat the shit
out of any would-be noise maker,
rule breaker, I wasn't a chance taker.

So I sat and watched
the playing field crows
meeting at the murder.
Dodging the borrowed shorts brigade
skulking off for a bike shed smoke,
with pale legs and black plimsolls,
a flat footed 1500 meter cough.

Others went to Malham cove
so they could recall a limestone pavement,
categorise real rock samples,
with home made hammers,
too precious to throw away
like the memories they still keep,
nearly thirty years later.

But Billy Bentham had a bulbous nose, ( I love the rhyme)
riddled with tiny red veins,
each one swimming in whiskey,
the fumes were monotone
that killed inflection,
dictated daily from a syllabus bed time book.
He was easily mistook, (do you really need a comma here).
for a teacher.

Nice tile. Your poem was interesting to read.
I got Hooked from the first line.

Thank you for taking the time to comment, I have removed the comma. Best Keith

[Keith]

Really enjoyed reading this poem! I found it incredibly relatable and a fun read.

In particular, I liked the second stanza. I found it particularly appealing because of the flow you have achieved in it, I also enjoyed your description of the murder of crows.

My only criticism would be to alter your ending. It would certainly be improved with the removal of the comma and a further improvement would be to fit the rest of the poem with a more flowing closure rather than the suddenness of the current end.

Thanks for taking the time to comment JEMagine and welcome, I have removed the comma and will have a look at extending the ending I understand what you are saying about the abrupt close. Best Keith