Classrooms

Classrooms long poem

Uploaded by aboo thahir


When I enter into the Class
Can hear the noise of screwing and grinding
Some of them sing and write
Few bite and threaten
Last benchers fearlessly chewing the bubblegum of life
Girls beholding the elegant fingers
Blackboard turns into a landscape
Where civilization marked as white lines
Interwoven with the threads of birth and death
Can be seen gutters of the desk
Filled with pieces of truth recycled papers
Bleeding pens and fresh smelled notebooks
Carries the divinity of resurrected disciples
When I open the text book
And ask is there a text book inside the class?
They Chuckled and dived into the world of déjà vu
Where African lioness lay with love bites
When I lift a chalk piece
Some misunderstand it as a gun
My text book buried by a monsoon
Where freshly germinated shoots afraid to come
My throat giggled their thought
Closed windows stood as a barrier
Let me throw my text book
Dear, I can touch your engineering spirit
Can hug your farming tendency
Could spot your artistic zeal
I feel your healing hands
Let me throw the book
Black board covered the sight of the future
Open the window
Come out and breathe easy
Be a bird
Fly high
See your canopy of bright clouds
And stick your wings on it
Me, poor come into your room
Just to open the window

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2 Comments on "Classrooms"

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Aloke
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Lively, vibrant description of classes. A complete poetry

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