School

Assembly. 
  Disassembly. 
    Reassembly.

When the bell tolls 
  it tolls for me. 
Alone I walk in crowded 
  concrete corridors; 
    feet, doom-laden, 
      slapping thermoplastic 
floors.

Years we will do this. 
  Years we will be taught. 
    Years we all will walk in 
concrete corridors.

Walking unto the light, 
  freedom's light; 
    walking unto the world of 
women and men. 
Armed with bestowed knowledge 
  that two and two makes four, 
    the Battle of Hastings was fought in 1066, 
      energy can neither be created nor destroyed... 
wandering lonely as clouds... 

Freedom fighters, 
  guerrilla's armed with this 
    potency 
and so much more.

The echo of the concrete, 
  of slapdash feet on thermoplastic, 
    may well reverberate, 
      reaffirming their message of 
doom.
Yet that is further away than 
  the eye can see. 
Now is sweet honeydew Summer, 
  the best years of a life 
    yet to come.

Assembly. 
  Disassembly. 
    Reassembly.

Man, 
are we up the 
Swanee. 
And though we know it 
  now is not 
    the time 
      to 
care...

Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.

Please Login to post a comment

A comment has not been posted for this poem. Encourage a poet by being the first to comment.