English Teacher
English Teacher
By J Dickert
The doorway illuminated with a plaid beige skirt and a smile that could surly gleam.
The white summer blouse, with classy square buttons matched perfectly her jacket and personality. Tanned bare legs slipped into rattan sandals framed a lovely pedicure; painted toenails resemble works of fine expensive art. Sculpture athletic arms that match the tan legs, dazzled with solid gold bracelets and beautiful hands that would take a good man to hold. The walk of authority pushed a wind through her auburn hair that was resting shoulder length, held into place by leather armed Armani sunglasses. Her make-up was concealed just enough to see the high cheek bones that glowed a healthy rose. A smiling face lost in penetrating eyes had arrived that morning. It was a wonderful day at school.
Maybe I’m being assuming, but sounds like someone had a hefty crush on their English teacher ? Well, I did too! There’s something about them that we poet’s just find amazingly intoxicating–and it’s not just the One-Act Plays… They are, perhaps, one of the earliest and profound influences on us as writers…we are their bastard sons! …or daughters! The description of J Dickert’s ‘mentor’ is elaborate enough for me to see her in my mind…a word is 1/1000th of a picture after all. I particularly noticed some key words in the 1st 3-4 lines: classy, framed, art, sculpture. Describing from a central metaphor takes a lot of reflection and talent…good job. I also liked: “The walk of authority pushed a wind through her auburn hair that was resting shoulder length, held into place by leather armed Armani sunglasses.” God I have a thing for women in authority…I just want to bow down and be their slave…worship their beauty, and retrieve high-pulp orange juice for them in chilled glasses… Fine ending also…remembrance is essential to reminding us who we are.