Two Teachers

1 for Bill Harwood

A theorist of the purest kind,
Your lectures had no human warmth
And faded like a day-time moon.
The crueller said “cloud cuckoo land”

And loudly tapped their hollow heads.
Some thought you clinically disposed,
Contemptuous of everything
Except the symbols on a page,

Myself included till you said
With gravy running down your chin:
“ I love to lie curled up in bed
And listen to the pouring rain.”

2 for Leo Howard

The war left you unqualified
To teach in universities,
But fit for forty years in schools
Whose children drew you on the board

And imitated lion roars.
A specialist in Latin verbs,
Your wit was of the learned kind
That spared the lesser tea-room minds

And only ever turned on you:
“ Declining like my Latin class,”
You said when down to seven stone
To make light of the rotten news.

© Copyright: Graeme Hetherington