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“I have heard you’re a poet” the young teacher said,
“I assume in the post modern style,
I’m no expert myself, “ (I’d a feeling of dread)
“But I pen a line once in a while.”

“No I don’t like post modern, I write formal verse”
I replied, as the lines creased her brow,
And she said in a tone somewhat acid and terse:
“Oh I see, well we don’t teach that now,

For at college they taught us to embrace the new,
To discard the old fashioned ideas.
Modern fashion I follow, so formal eschew,
I was taught by the wisest of seers.

There’s no need in a poem of meter or rhyme,
And I think there is nothing that’s worse.
I admit though, it’s true, I don’t have much free time,
I don’t write much, and seldom read verse.”

And I asked: “And your favourites then, who would they be?”
But I knew when I asked what she’d say:
“Well I can’t think right now, there are many you see,
I’ll get back to you, another day.

But I must be away, for I’ve children to teach,
I’ve a whole class of students to guide.
If our brave new ideas are to extend their reach
We must keep budding poets onside”.