From Viv Smith
“I’m left handed, the daughter of a left hander. I was recently reminded of my experience in primary school aged 8 when a very annoying teacher placed me next to a right hander. I was on his right therefore we battled elbows everyday. When I complained she refused to let us swap sides and cure the problem. I wrote this poem about the event”
Little Laura could only write
With her pen in her left hand, never her right.
Armed like this her words could flow,
Her stories were rich, her ideas would grow.
Her problem was being sat next to Ricky,
Everyone knew he was tough and quite tricky.
Just like his fists, Ricky wrote with his right,
Sprawled over the desk his left hand clenched tight.
He put pen to paper to reveal to his peers
His astonishing wealth of stupid ideas.
Laura sat hunched in a small bit of table
That Ricky had spared her, until she felt able
To move her left arm and free up her mind
From staring at Ricky’s humongous behind.
Laura spoke to the teacher, but poor Mrs Hyde
Was just grateful that Ricky remained occupied.
One day Little Laura sat down on the left.
Then Ricky arrived and looked vaguely bereft.
To have to shift over to the opposite side
Was confusing for Ricky and a matter of pride.
“Just try it” said Laura, “and I think you will see
It’ll work just as well for you as for me”.
Ricky said nothing sitting down with a groan
He took the new seat, fists flexed for a moan.
But when writing began he started to see
The girl had a point, his right arm felt free.
Laura sat upright, her left arm could move
And Ricky, for once, had nothing to prove.
Copyright Viv Smith
A great poem! Any thoughts or comments?