My Class And My Club Poem by Moez Ben Meftah

My Class and my Club

When I come to the class,
I always feel alright,
But sometimes I arrive
Quiet uncertain with fright,
From something or someone
Exerting a sort of might.

Yet the club is my home,
And the home after storm,
Is the shelter of the heart.
A stem of zeal for every start


In the class you have to do
What is right and be polite;
You have to work with 'whereas',
'Yet', and, 'but' and 'despite'.
Breaking the rules between times,
May cause you bad plight.

In the club there are no musts,
But what you can and what you might,
More than that, the cyber world
Provides you the room to chat
On Yahoo, or the British site.

In the class quite often,
You feel a bore and furthermore,
It is hard to twig the lesson
Or at least the major part.
The correction of the test,
Might become a mark-fight
And the pupils never fail
To have something to nag about

In the club everything
That you hear is so dear
To your ear, to your pen
And the hearts of your heart;
Say whatever and sit wherever,
On the left or the right,
Nobody whatsoever can ever
Deprive you of your right.

In the class it so happens,
That you lose the appetite,
An feel rambling as a kite,
But once you join your brothers,
And belived sisters in the club,
Very soon on Friday afternoon,
You feel afresh; quiet at ease with delight;
You can relate your stories,
And the reveries of daylight.

Language tasks in the class,
Are always a heavy diet,
In addition to many shouds and should-nots,
You have to write and be alright.

In the club you are allowed
What seems wrong outside;
The taboo that you feared,
Turns out to be ok and fully right

You could embosom your grieves
And voice out your views,
Besides that, you can accuse,
Enjoy the muse of black and white
And be heard with respect and delight.

The teacher's lesson I suppose,
Is bread and butter for those who matter;
The good-good boys
And the pretty girls,
But the bad-bad ones,
Couldn't share this daily feast
Or at least have a bite.

Here, whereas in the club,
The spicy dish is for all;
The poor kids, the so-and-so
And of course the very bright.

Moez ben Meftah
Tataouine, May 1999