My teachers yesteryear
Potters of men
Wicked sir
Wicked madam
Wicked miss
Yes, then you seemed
Tore my skin with the dreaded "Ana" whip
Which penetrate beyond three shorts
And refuse to break upon prayers
Plus the grasses I cut
When the whip seem painless
All made you Jezebel.
(Wednesday 12th November,1997)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem