The Colour of My Dreams

      

   

I saw this poem on the wall of a pre-school the other day.  If I had children, I'd send them there.

Colour of My Dreams

I'm a really rotten reader

the worst in all the class,

the sort of rotten reader

that makes you want to laugh.

I'm last in all the readin' tests,

my score's not on the page

and when I read to teacher

she gets in such a rage.

She says I cannot form my words

she says I can't build up

and that I don't know phonics

and don't know a c-a-t from k-u-p.

They say that I'm dyslexic

(that's a word they've just found out)

... but when I get some plasticine

I know what that's about.

I make these scary monsters

I draw these secret lands

and get my hair all sticky

and paint on all me hands.

I make these super models,

I build these smashing towers

that reach up to the ceiling

and take me hours and hours.

I paint these lovely pictures

in thick green drippy paint

that gets all on the carpet

and makes the cleaners faint.

I build great magic forests

weave bushes out of string

and paint pink panderellos

and birds that really sing.

I play my world of real believe

I play it every day

and teachers stand and watch me

but don't know what to say.

They give me diagnostic tests,

they try out reading schemes,

but none of them will ever know

the colour of my dreams.

- Peter Dixon

More of the work of the poet and educationalist Peter Dixon can be found here:

http://www.peterdixon.org/

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