Sixth Class

They listen as if poetry’s worthy

Of their respect, as if it matters

As much as gymnastics, music,

football and friends.


Is writing a poem like writing a song?

Could you write about your dreams?

What makes you want to write?

Are your poems about your own life?


The questions start slowly,

then gather momentum; fledglings

hovering at the edge of the nest,

keen to take flight but unsure


if they’re ready yet.

My dreams are too weird to write.

That’s ok I reply, our poems

don’t have to make sense,


they can be strange as our dreams.

The way life is strange, says the boy,

who says little else, as he sits

in the front row, humming to himself.


Jane Clarke