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Measure of Mirth
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A Soldier's Lullaby Close these weary of mine,
Play the Bad Boy's Having a Party,
I can indulge in delights so fine
Of Friday in Civics that are sweet.
Oh yeah!
Mrs. Chaney and that radio of hers,
Both tuned to the oldies Hot 105;
Luther starts to plays as it recurs,
And she smiles, she dances, sings live.
Well, all right now!
What joy to witness her really bask
Is such a relief from the workweek;
Her daily struggle execrated at last,
As she swings, dwelling in melody.
Oh yeah!
We would just sit, listen, and learn,
Finish the week test quickly to survey;
Our weekly burdens were burned,
Ash like hers burned away in a way.
Well, all right!
I hed aced her class with all the lesson,
Yet words may never suffice gratitude;
That strong Black woman was a blessing,
First to see my strong sense of negritude.
Oh yeah!
Thank you, Mrs. Chaney
Great Cadence!
At first I thought you had left a word or two out until I got into the cadence of this poem and I liked the unique blend of your own personal word usage here. Very sultry and sensuous indeed and then you wrap it all up paying tribute to a teacher. That REALLY made me smile. Your poem is the best accolade you could ever pay to your so honored Mrs. Chany. Reminding us all that there are Mrs. Chany's strewn throughout our own academic lives who should be so praised, if we would only just do as you have done and take the time to recall and reverence them. I really enjoyed this poem. It was an extremely thoughtful gift of self you gave to not only the object of your skillfully honest writing about your memorable Mrs. Chany but also a gift worthy of reading by the world. Sincerely, Melissa Lundeen.