Remembering Mr Kennedy

 

Funny days are when you try to recall

cloud wolves chasing the full moon

across the sky

on a night flight

 

Above it all is strangely scary

yet just a spit in the universe

that can be rubbed out

quicker than a maths equation

on Mr Kennedy’s chalk board

 

Mr Kennedy, I still see his huge smile

His classroom was a universe of imagination

coloured with enthusiasm

he made us believe we could soar

across the sky

like cloud wolves and land upon the moon

 

the meteorite soaring through a Russian morning

ignited a memory of Mr Kennedy’s classroom

a sense of excitement about the world

my son and I excitingly watching the ball of flame

sizzling across the sky

thinking phew, how close, a little scary

 

we talked of sound barriers, sonic booms and I recalled Skylab

and the nightmares

of pieces flying off in the night

the concord taking off and circling as I walked down the gravel

driveway of the farm

cowering from the boom as it broke through the sound barrier

feeling so tiny

 

and how my teacher made the scary world

a miracle in the making

Mr Kennedy’s balding white haired halo head

dancing across the classroom

explaining all, still with the fascination of a child

 

I wanted to be a Mr Kennedy for one moment

let my son feel that energy, and keep a bit

to keep in a pocket of his mind

see the world in all its strangely scary excitement

that not all things happen on a screen

and with a twiddle of thumbs

 

hoping he’ll see cloud wolves

chasing the moon

when he’s a man

making his own way

through this world

 

When I was in sixth grade I had the most amazing teacher, his classroom was filled with adventure and imagination. He encouraged us to pursue dreams, write poetry, stories and colour our world. For dverse Leonard Cohen and Place.