His ears, a sieve.
The teacher’s voice
Just trickles through.
His eyes still open,
In an empty stare,
Looking somewhere
Past the blackboard,
But his mind isn’t there.
Instead,
It’s gone away to yesterday.
Phone in shaking hand,
Heart beating like a drum.
Finally,
Mustering the courage,
Dialing the digits,
Waiting…
Anticipating her voice…
“Hello,
Mr. Bailey, we’re waiting.”
The ruler hits the blackboard,
Crack!
Back to the present,
Startled, blinking.
“Question 3, on the board,
We don’t have all day!”
A laugh rolls through the class.
Red rushes to his cheeks.
So I wanted to post something, but nothing really exciting happened today, so I decided I'd post a poem I had written a long time ago. I don't really write poems anymore. It used to be an outlet for me. Many of them were dark. This one isn't really.
cool poem nonetheless - I'm sure your darker poems would be appreciated as well (as long as you added a joke at the end so we don't end up depressed haha)
ReplyDeleteGreat poem! You should write poetry more..very valuable outlet and you have a poetic soul..don't waste it.
ReplyDeleteI was wondering...when she answered..what was her answer? Damned teachers!
Breeze
Heh, don't think I really thought about what the answer was. Probably agreed to go out on a date or some such thing, since clearly this guy has not been able to concentrate on anything else since he made the call. :-p
ReplyDelete