Explore Poems GO!

What Fifty Said..

Rating: 3.1

When I was young my teachers were the old.
I gave up fire for form till I was cold.
I suffered like a metal being cast.
I went to school to age to learn the past.

Now when I am old my teachers are the young.
What can't be molded must be cracked and sprung.
I strain at lessons fit to start a suture.
I got to school to youth to learn the future.

READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Angela Sorenson 29 March 2010

nice poem. learning things can be such a treat or it can put you through misery.It is all how it is or how you take it as.take care.Or it can be in the middle nice and smoothe

4 13 Reply