Chalk Ghosts
Faded visions of the classroom linger.
A blackboard cowers, engrained with ancient dust,
remains of lessons that were never learned.
But a felt-pad wiper-block will rush to smear
chalk mistakes into oblivion, while floorboards
beneath the easel creak a protest at elusive
ghosts of teachers' calligraphic dances.
The battle-scarred desks, disfigured by generations
of rambunctious youth with tear-stained touch,
stand row on row, their lids poised for action.
Empty inkwell eyes challenge intruders -
"Only pencils allowed for budding authors!"
Paper scented, the air scribbles notes
to the nostrils," You will remember me."
This weeks bus driver is Karen of Keeping Secrets - Why not go and see other passengers who will be spilling the beans?
Oh, what a lovely, lovely poem. Presented so skillfully. Just my kind of writing!
ReplyDeleteYes the smell of the classroom always brings us back... Great personification here - love the inkwell eyes
ReplyDeleteThis is terrific. It brings back many a classromm of a long (long!) time ago.
ReplyDeleteI love that last couple of lines.. i still get taken back there when I go into stationary shops.. lovely stuff!
ReplyDeleteI wonder what today's children will remember of their classrooms? The relentless hum of the computers, perhaps.
ReplyDeleteWhat a keen eye and poet's heart observed those details. A lovely poem.
ReplyDeleteI've only just found you here - great blog.
"..elusive
ReplyDeleteghosts of teachers' calligraphic dances.." Very nice.
I adore it that they speak! I tried my hand at this school theme, but failed. I did manage something else, though.
ReplyDeleteWonderful stuff, Penny. best of luck with your new blog!
Oooh, I can smell that school smell! Great evocation of how powerful certain memories are.
ReplyDeleteA tender tender tender poem that gave me goosebumps and brought a low "hmmmmm" from me at the end as I drifted back in time to Mt. Rose School.
ReplyDeleteI did smell the chalk as I was reading your poem :-)
ReplyDeleteCongratulations on this newborn blog. I hope it will have a long and prosperous life. I'm sure it will be a happy blog, being the fruit of your pen Pen.
Oh those old carved desks ! and ink wells!
ReplyDeleteyikes haven't thought about it in a while-
such a jumble, thanks for taking us back-
Had a 'Sister' who held her chalk like a cigarette
( I'm told she left and got quite 'with it')
Great piece.
Oh, I do like this. Love that paper-scented air and the cowering blackboard!
ReplyDeleteLovely work Jinksy.I love the ink well eyes and the ghostly teachers calligraphic dances.Great final lines.This is my favourite poem of yours, so far!
ReplyDeleteI love the paper scented air and their lids poised for action! This is really wonderful!
ReplyDeleteI felt like I was time traveling back to elementary school; Thanks for the memories! ;-D
This is absolutely lovely - tender and poignant. "You will remember me."
ReplyDeleteI will remember this poem. It is beautiful.