'A Country School' by Edward Lamson Henry‘Education: To Be Continued…’ and Other Poetry by C.B. Anderson The Society February 17, 2017 Culture, For Educators, News of Note, Poetry 3 Comments Education: To Be Continued … There is no lack of opportunity For education in this spendthrift age, And boys who wish to earn a decent wage Must show the general community That they have somehow learned to use their heads For more than just a place to lodge a hat. Good habits start at home (Imagine that!) And should include acquiring tasteful threads That feature neither butt-crack nor a shoe But halfway laced. The frequent use of soap And toothpaste will go far to show there’s hope For someone who had trouble getting through Eleventh grade. Hard knocks is not a school For laggards: Let them earn a GED, And later an associate degree From junior college; let them join the pool Of eligible applicants for jobs, Lest they become expendable dead weight Incapable of paying their own freight, Thus ruining the dreams of Thomas Hobbes And others. Blame sits squarely on the father (Or lack thereof) for having never dared To set the tone, but blame is rightly shared With other agencies that scarcely bother To teach young sons that houses won’t be homes Until a source of income is secured And natural law and order is restored. Society will delve new catacombs Unless some necessary work is done That hasn’t been. A father makes a choice To banish doubt when, with a sterling voice Univocal, he educates his son. Reunion I rang the bell, but no one was at home, Which led me to suppose that my arrival Was much too late or just a bit too soon. I knelt and ran my fingers through the loam Beside the stoop, reflecting that survival Depends on husbanding the land. The moon Was rising when from up the rutted drive A pair of headlights flooded the terrain And caught me with my knuckles kneading soil. My college friend had managed to revive An old ramshackle farm in northern Maine Through reaffirmed ideals, incessant toil, And old-school Yankee know-how. We had plenty To talk about, but he appeared unsure … Until he shook my dirty hand and grinned. I hadn’t seen the guy in nearly twenty Years, yet he showed me to his kitchen door As though I were that man who’d never sinned. He introduced me to his lovely wife, His several kids, and one uncomely ball Of fur that might have been a dog. A dunce I’d been, presuming that his ordered life Had pressing need or room to spare, in all This time, to think about me even once. Breakfast of Champions Don’t ever be afraid To say what must be said, And never let your head Be swayed By rancorous opinions Of critics who despise You. Lucifer supplies His minions With suasive power points As sharp as any sword To slander those the Lord Anoints. Not even Paul’s epistles, Shored up with doctrinaire Assemblages of prayer From missals, Are quite enough to stay The Adversary’s hand. You’ll reach no promised land, Today Or ever, if you lack The fortitude to fight For what you think is right. Attack Before the break of dawn, And make no hasty treaties Until your store of Wheaties Is gone. C.B. Anderson was the longtime gardener for the PBS television series, The Victory Garden. Hundreds of his poems have appeared in scores of print and electronic journals out of North America, Great Britain, Ireland, Austria, Australia and India. His collection, Mortal Soup and the Blue Yonder was published in 2013 by White Violet Press. Related Post ‘The Discovery’ by Rebeca Parrott “She vanished to the wood,” they said. “Forget her—that strange and sickly child.” A child? Your face was no more childish than mine. And ... Tell the world:FacebookTwitterTumblrPinterestRedditLinkedInEmail 3 Responses David Watt February 17, 2017 Anderson C.B., I like your stuff, Particularly ‘Education’ sure enough, Which illustrates an issue of our time – The need for an instructive paradigm, Made eloquent through well-considered rhyme. Reply Damian Robin February 19, 2017 My three kids, all growed and ‘doing well’ (By degrees at universities) Had early education out of school; My three kids, well groomed and ‘doing well’ (By measurements of manners, teeth and smell) Recycle loans that are society’s; My three kids, all roomed and ‘doing well’ Are well-turned-out, sociable, and cool, Making meals and managing the bell; My three kids, with wisdom from an endless well, Contribute to pools of humankind, Resilient and truthful, also kind. How wonderful the world is with these three, These kids, these principles, these ways to be. Reply C.B. Anderson February 20, 2017 Sometimes the comments are better than the poems themselves. Reply Leave a Reply Cancel Reply Your email address will not be published.CommentName* Email* Website Notify me of follow-up comments by email. Notify me of new posts by email.