#classroom
Tick, tick, sleepy blink,
It’s time! learn how to write and think.
"Don’t be late, you lazy kid!"
Bell rings, education is all we need.
Lost in a sea of laughing kids,
Tiny feet rush as if the world ends.
Uncountable rooms, so big window glasses,
No one answers ,my question
wasn’t from the books.
New books judging my looks,
Shiny stars sitting hand in hand.
Why does my heart whisper
It’s going to be a messy land?
Fake all magic and glitter wands.
Weird glances for those who are late.
Corner for the loner,
A lonely bench.
No one beside, no friendship hooks,
Brain is praying, what if it forgets the exit gate?
The world was the culprit
school bag wasn’t late,
Forgotten kindness written in a tiny fate.
Mar 13
Mar 13, 2026 at 2:21 PM UTC
She sits at her desk like a bird in a cage,
a girl with a mind that won’t fit on the page.
Her pencil lies still, but her thoughts start to dance,
as the music board twinkles, she slips in a trance.
The chalk marks ignite with a shimmering breath,
they twirl into dancers defying all death.
A dotted half note leaps into the air,
and spins in three-four time with elegant flair.
A half rest bows low, a sharp note takes flight,
staves bloom into ribbons, then vanish from sight.
Basslines roll heavy and thunder on by,
as flutes weave their songs like a breeze gliding high.
The air becomes thick with a roaring, wild choir,
until the crescendo becomes something dire.
A crack in the staff, a flicker of gloom—
a sharp voice—not brass, not string, not bassoon.
’Twas the teacher, now chiding, baton in her hand:
“I need you to focus up here, understand?”
The music dissolves, the dancers withdraw,
but wonder still lingers, defying the law.
Her thoughts find the ticking, a hush wrapped in glass,
like breath on a window that’s trying to pass.
A round-faced timepiece with red rosy cheeks,
ticks on with two hands that twitch as it squeaks.
The numbers all twist, they refuse to stay,
three becomes six, then it floats far away.
They dance a brisk waltz, in synchronized pairs,
swirling and twirling like dreams through the air.
But just as the rhythm reached new crescendos,
a hush falls again in diminuendo.
The cherub now frowns, with a scolding in rhyme:
“Return to your places—behave, and keep time!”
It ticks with a twitch and a sharp little glare,
then the teacher again, with a cold, burning stare.
The clock hands crawl slowly, the charm is erased,
no waltzing of numbers, no shimmering grace.
Her eyes dim to silence, the dream overthrown,
as she lays down her head with a soft, quiet groan.
But something still stirs her, the world slipping through,
as the windows invite her with skies painted blue.
The hum of the lesson begins to recede,
replaced by the whisper of wind through the leaves.
The ceiling dissolves and the walls fade away,
the chalk and the clock just echoes of day.
The desks turn to vapor, the lessons to mist,
and silence becomes too unreal to exist.
She leans out of time, from the pull of the ground,
where disembodied birds let melody sound.
Three bluejays perch on a tree just in sight,
their feathers like scribbles that shimmer in flight.
Now she’s in the branches, as small as they seem,
watching them soar through a watercolor dream.
Two take to the wind, but the last does not flee,
it watches the girl, as if waiting to see.
Perched in the boughs, the girl longs to ascend,
to where music and wind weave a world without end.
The earth lies below, like a thought once untrue,
as the tree’s branches part, carving pathways anew.
She looks down in wonder, a hush in her chest,
her body below her, unmoving, at rest.
The line becomes thin between dream and what’s true,
as she turns to the sky and thinks,
What if I flew?
Jan 8
Jan 8, 2026 at 9:28 AM UTC
In corridors where silence screams,
Where chalk dust drowns our fragile dreams,
A sovereign sits with granite gaze,
Unmoved by pain, immune to praise.
I came with fire in throat and bone,
A whispered plea, a muted tone.
He scoffed, “Then why attend at all?”
His heart a vault, his mercy small.
He vowed to climb the vice’s stair,
But vanished in the stagnant air.
I waited in that echo tomb,
Auditorium turned to gloom.
Each absence fined with ruthless hand,
No grace, no pause, no reprimand.
He counts our wounds in ledger sums
The toll, the wrath, the crazy ***
He sees not nights of sleepless ache,
Nor hears the soul begin to break.
He mocks the sick, the shy, the numb,
And brands us with his judgment drum.
A class should be a sacred flame,
Not crucible of guilt and shame.
Yet here we walk on blistered stone,
With hollow hearts and hope o’erthrown.
So let this verse be requiem’s cry,
For every tear we blinked to dry.
For every voice he left undone
We mourn the bell he would not rung.
Sep 30, 2025
Sep 30, 2025 at 10:18 AM UTC
We were asked, "What are your strengths and weaknesses?"
I kept looking at the paper as if it was written in an ancient language.
I repeated the question in my head, I'll think of something, right?
Such a simple question, yet my mind was blank.
I could think of so many weaknesses, but so little strengths.
Were strengths something I had to excel at? Do I just lie?
I couldn't mention a strength, I didn't want to seem arrogant.
I couldn't mention a weakness either, so I wouldn't seem like an attention seeker!
It felt funny, I could mention the strengths of those around me,
When it came to myself I was just empty.
Time was fleeting, it was running out,
The more I thought about it, the worse it got.
I began thinking of all the stuff I was good at, or so I thought.
"No, no, no, no!" Why couldn't I think of anything? Was I just talentless?
Why was I so bad at everything?
May 13, 2025
May 13, 2025 at 2:36 PM UTC
Red for economics,
green for English,
white for ICT
your files stacked in my hands,
pages filled with notes in your careful script
I never needed to ask; you just lent them
as if sharing knowledge meant sharing a part of you.
A classroom of seventeen,
but I only counted one.
I traced your desk with my fingertips,
opened your pencil case just to see
what colors you carried,
what secrets lived between the erasers and sharpies.
We worked in groups,
side by side but never quite close enough.
I stole glances when I thought you wouldn’t notice,
but maybe you always did.
Maybe that’s why you smiled so easily,
why you never pulled away.
Years have stretched between us,
but high school still lingers like a cozy
dream
I wake from too slowly.
Your files, your laughter, your presence in the last row
they live in me
as if time forgot to take them when it took you.
Mar 3, 2025
Mar 3, 2025 at 10:06 AM UTC
You, you're my one and only,
Without you I'd be a little lonely.
Nope I lied,
If I were to lose you,
I'd lose myself and they'd have to gather tools to fix my heart.
And while the ocean is wide,
I need you to be my bright side.
In fact it's starting to seem that you're the ink in my pen,
Your tears of sadness and joy.
Staring into your eyes,
I freeze like a toy.
I'm just a boy,
And you're my classroom crush.
Jan 21, 2025
Jan 21, 2025 at 10:11 PM UTC
I sit with clammy hands gripping on my jeans
with my head facing my wooden desk
trying not to make any eye contact with the teacher
But in my chest, a severe panic stands before me randomly
soon there was a sudden watchful feeling inside me circling
multiple eyeballs were glancing at every inch of me
I watch their eyes with terror knowing they aren’t actually there
as I try to keep my composure down with deep breaths
my leg starts to shake uncontrollably
making some of my classmates notice with awe
they whisper to one another and when the teacher calls on them
they go back to doing their schoolwork
“Do they see through my disguise?”
suddenly the teacher calls my name
wanting to know if I’m alright since I seem off
I smile and tell him I’m alright , but inside I know that wasn’t true
I look at the window next to my desk
the feeling of sonder runs through my head swiftly
from every car and truck going to different directions
to the birds eating random scraps on the sidewalks
The world feels strange when you think about every little detail
and yet I can't find peace no matter how much I try to look at it in a different view perspective
I began to hear the same whispers rising again
“Are they talking about me still?”
I secure my disguise back on quickly
Every time skip, every sneeze with “bless you” , my mind’s a blur
Hiding the overflowing storm that wasn’t done with me
unsure of when it’s safe to be at ease.
I make it through my last class and began to pack my bags
But in my head, I’m not at rest.
Jan 8, 2025
Jan 8, 2025 at 3:34 PM UTC
I have had enough, I just wanna leave,
This place has no love, they all just deceive,
I thought I would be someone's only choice,
Alone I am left, no one hears my voice,
I thought I would make at least one person smile,
I've struggled in vain, my efforts were dire,
I still do possess, this haunting desire,
Just want to connect, It's all I require,
It seems I have failed to build a connection,
With not much time left, I avoid detection,
So, what if there's no one, not one that would seek,
Seek out this man, when he feels so weak.
I might just do better, the next stage I'll live,
I'll write you a letter,
If I can forgive.
Oct 31, 2024
Oct 31, 2024 at 4:53 PM UTC
A promiscuous note
floats across the table
I would conjure the answer, if I were able
Time strenuously stretched past comfortability
Yet I
know your fingers hold the agility
to reply in quickened fashion
Your hands lack the desired passion, they lack the action
A pen stroke holds the balance of hope
But all I got back from you was
"Nope"
Aug 8, 2023
Aug 8, 2023 at 12:34 PM UTC
She looks on into the clock, wondering when the bell would signal her release from boredom. She finds herself playing with the hoodie of a classmate, hoping he'd focus on her to have someone keep her mind from the mundane atmosphere of the classroom. She always loved messing with his hoodie during class because his reactions were always funny. She tosses the piece of clothing from one hand to the other when She comes to realize the patient nature of the classmate and thanks him for not leaving her in a world of loneliness and apologizes for having to put up with her.
Feb 1, 2020
Feb 1, 2020 at 3:21 PM UTC
My kind of girl
Understands who she is
Stands for what she believes in
She cannot be broken
No one can belittle her
When trials come her way
She remains unfazed
My kind of girl
Walks with confidence
She exudes excellence
An epitome of elegance
She does due diligence
Being mindful of her intelligence
Because she knows her importance
My kind of girl
Builds her own future
A certified trailblazer
Who utilizes the power within her
To be of good influence
Always on top of her game
Yes, she keeps soaring like an eagle
My kind of girl
Takes charge of her own life
Secures her name in historical archives
For she is no ordinary woman
An extraordinary being
She dares to dream
In the world, she makes a difference
That is my kind of girl
Dec 20, 2019
Dec 20, 2019 at 10:54 AM UTC
entering a classroom that
is not a classroom
my pupils inside: i haven't seen them for a long time
i want them to listen to me
yet the pupils aren't listening; they don't (want to) perceive me.
all the time i look at them, they look into another direction.
they aren't rebelling or trying to sabotage my lesson;
my lesson that isn't a lesson.
it's an encounter between an older person and
younger persons who aren't young anymore but
who haven't grown up yet.
the pupils changed into beings-in-between.
i can sense that they have become independent.
the pupils don't need a teacher anymore;
they aren't ready for making a living either.
many teachers need to be needed.
most pupils want to be autonomous.
teachers will be disappointed by the end of a day.
pupils dislike school by the end of most lessons.
dear athena, that's wired. isn't it?
therefore we need to think about it. we need to ask ourselves:
WHAT has to be changed?
Dec 20, 2019
Dec 20, 2019 at 2:58 AM UTC
piercing eyes
burn straight through me.
i feel exposed
and peeled open,
as my last rational thoughts
drizzle through the gaps
between my fingers
and pile up on the ground
like wet sand.
i take my shaky steps
like the earth is depending on me
to prevent her from quaking.
and as the hands on the clock
reach out to strangle me,
i break a sweat
and try to choke out words.
i fail,
and the judging eyes judge.
the fragile silence is broken by whispers.
Dec 2, 2019
Dec 2, 2019 at 10:41 PM UTC
Gazing out the window, it’s beautiful outside, letting my mind wandering into the distance daydreaming about the endless possibilities. Then someone slams a ruler on my desk that caught me by surprised I nearly jump out of my chair startled. It was the teacher glaring down at me spitefully.
“Eyes up here, Grace! You need to pay attention!” said the teacher. “Didn’t you hear me? Open your text book to page 300 and keep up!” My classmates started to giggle then the teacher walked back to the front of the classroom, chalk in hand and began to write on the chalkboard, letters that I couldn’t quite make out. The teachers words start to muffle as I try and locate my binder and pencil for notes but then I hear the teacher call my name “Grace” and I look up with fear in my eye hoping she did not just call on me to answer her question.
“Grace could you please come to the front and spell the word ‘BECAUSE’ on the board?” I knew this word but I don’t remember how to spell it. I really hate going to the front of the class because I always make a mistake. I slowly get up from my desk, my hands start to sweat, and the room goes silent as I walked, with my shoes squeaking on the tile floor louder than usual, up to the teacher. I take the chalk from the teacher’s hand. As I begin to write I freeze.
Paralyzed with fear I ask the teacher “I’m sorry, can you repeat the word that you wants me to spell?”
The teacher scoffed at me and even louder said, “The word is, ‘BECAUSE’!” I nodded my head trying to remember but my mind was blank, I remember using my markers to trace out the letters of each word but this one was particularly hard to remember. I started to write B…E…K…then I’m stuck, I start to panic and I write the remaining letters that sounded right A…Z. then I immediately place the chalk down on the teacher’s desk and walk as fast as I could back to my desk. The students all start to roar in laughter, as they know I made a mistake. I look on the board and it reads ‘BEKAZ’ I know its wrong but I don’t have the answer to change it.
The teacher, unamused by the students stares at the chalk board then turns and looks straight at me as says “Grace, you will not go outside for recess instead, you will sit in the beanbag and read, if I see you slacking off, you will be tracing out your letters for the spelling test that is this Friday.” After her remark the bell rang and it was time for lunch.
Apr 3, 2019
Apr 3, 2019 at 9:44 AM UTC
i sit here in this classroom,
detached.
away from the others
while the tutor's voice blends into the walls
and i fail to melt into it with others' ears.
Mar 12, 2019
Mar 12, 2019 at 5:47 PM UTC
Exam room.
Air as still as dead,
Then I hear it:
Pencil.
R o l l i n g off the edg
e -
But the person catches it just in time.
I sigh in relief.
Mar 6, 2019
Mar 6, 2019 at 7:25 PM UTC
The mist that leaves the vapour in the morn
Crafts fragile drops of aqua,
Gently glides down the windows
Of an empty classroom.
Crisp cold enters from rough winter winds,
The doors would shut themselves,
As a gentle shower of rain would burst from the big grey blanket
That carpeted the skies.
Rain would fall.
Pitter
Patter,
Pitter,
Patter,
Upon the tin roof.
As I watched more of those soft, small orbs of water stream down the chilled glass.
Mar 1, 2019
Mar 1, 2019 at 11:58 PM UTC
Morning is not my time of day,
That's when concepts float away,
Across the garden, down the lane,
Through the gate at Hester Payne's.
Teacher's pet and top pass,
Hester sits eyes front in class,
With rubbers straight and pencils sharp,
A clean page ready to start.
I, of course, am running late,
Hair a-fly, face scrubbed in haste.
Chasing my thoughts, I see them now,
Bouncing ahead: _’Where? Why? How?’_
Miss Armitage says I can do better,
Just follow her lead to the letter.
She raps twice: _’Attention, please!’_
We all fall quiet - three sniffs, one sneeze.
_’Now settle down, it's time to count.’_
Braids and partings turn around
To face the board and I'm up first.
Chalk in hand, could things get worse?
In front of Danny, in front of Sue,
In front of Seamus. And you know who?
Three plus three, then five times six,
Square root of nine, just take your pick.
Six and...thirty...three, I'm sure.
Or was that seven? Maybe four.
My mouth goes dry, I stare and blink.
Lord knows, I find it hard to think.
Up the corridor, down the stairs,
Right then left, my thoughts in pairs,
Sift and swirl and giddy about.
_’Behave yourself, now cut that out!’_
_’Come back here, where you belong.
Don't wonder off! Don't make me wrong!’_
I scratch my answers, the class is aghast,
It seems I've something right at last.
Hester sighs, as glum as can be,
For today...this morning...for everyone to see,
My thoughts have stuck with me.
Dec 15, 2018
Dec 15, 2018 at 12:33 AM UTC
Whiteboard and students, classroom with desks
Who knew, here could be something so grotesque
Lit up bright, full of supplies
Art and math, science goggles to protect your eyes
Who knew this is where fear could live
Shouldn’t it be a laugh and a love note to give
Wouldn’t it be nice if this was a sacred place
Could you imagine if schools were all safe
Instead of brightly lit fluorescent lights
We see gun fire in the halls and fist fights
Worst of all we see children dead
In the ground we put to rest their head
Bully killed bully, maybe it was someone mean
Becoming the bully is worse! LISTEN to me this is keen
Love your neighbors, love your friends
End this hatred, or it will be all our ends
Speak love or do not speak at all
Believe in yourself, and believe in others …
That is all
. . .
No!! There is so much more to be said
This isn’t working, our kids still wind up dead
What needs to change, what can be done
To love your daughter and son?
Yes of course, love is important
But we need change, can we be absorbent?
To soak up our mistakes and our flaws
Turn it around look at what's wrong, take pause
Address the real issues, we don’t need more pep talks
We need a reconstruction, all the way down to the bed rocks
Nov 27, 2018
Nov 27, 2018 at 9:40 AM UTC
When boredom strikes
Jaws open wide in oscitancy
Eyelids flutter once, twice, thrice...
Mouth sets into an unattractive line
And the mind turns to mush
Lulled by the lecturer's monotonous voice
Into slumber's welcoming embrace.
Nov 17, 2018
Nov 17, 2018 at 11:57 AM UTC
He sits behind her everyday
and stares at her a lot
He thinks it's well and fine
But actually it is not
He waits for her when she is late
and worries beyond belief
When she comes, he looks at her
and gets a soothing relief
He speaks a lot in class
but keep his tone so dim
And pretends to be gentle and calm
Because she listens to him
He scribbles something on it
His notebook is chaotic
This is time and class is place
Where he is most poetic
He thinks of her and just of her
Coz else is just a blur
Class becomes a garden in heaven
where everyone sings of her
Nov 15, 2018
Nov 15, 2018 at 5:38 PM UTC