This came in by email over Thanksgiving. My son read it over my shoulder, and pronounced it "one of the funniest poems" he'd ever read. How could I not post it here?
My Teacher Calls Me Sweetie Cakes
My teacher calls me sweetie cakes.
My classmates think it's funny
to hear her call me angel face
or pookie bear or honey.
She calls me precious baby doll.
She calls me pumpkin pie
or doodle bug or honey bunch
or darling butterfly.
My class is so embarassing
I need to find another;
just any class at all
in which the teacher's not my mother.
One brief nit to pick: why does Nesbitt break the line after "at all," and not after "in which," where the meter demands it? I HATE that! Meter is so easy to teach to younglings, but not when the poets won't follow their own rules, no?
(Let the record show: this was delivered to me by email, and the linebreaks may have gotten corrupted en route.)