Thursday 4 October 2012

The Classroom


One bag, heavy with books on text, and one
To exercise voices, faces, without
Argument: a blank stare on faceless masks,
Feet pointed to doors tightly shut, silent;
Like  a dead river, that froze in winter :
Fish swim under layers of ice, the Sun fails
To melt; Gentle taps of finger on the desk,
Imitating norms in diction, voice and
Thought: A gentler hum turns to buzz, nodding
Heads and chorus bursts with fish-hooks cracking
Ice; Or more often trained parrots talking, amusing,
For just a treat: of chilli flakes, a gentle tap,
What it knows, while it treats, knowing of
A meal to get and a place to rest.     

2 comments:

  1. Well written...thoughts of the poet comes out clearly in the words...strangely crisp and fresh...Only the last line feels a bit out of tone with the title of the poem, which some poetic justice can be remoulded, if the poet feels so

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  2. Its when u struggle to educate ur self.. love the subject u wish to study.. n den like da last line a plain life with common thoughts.. the later portion comes dull....

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