Sponge

about scholarship and knowledge experiences

the classroom is silent

windows dimmed their eyes

benches aligned near walls

heaps of school books weigh in the middle 

 

I walk around and kneel

between floor crevices a caravan of ants

passes towards the mole

like nuns muttering their prayers

under father’s magnifying glass

in a slow and steady march

over fears worries dismay

 

looking at them I understood

tomorrow they will devastate

my philatelic collection

inside worn-out covers between stamps

favorite pastime

 

it’s forbidden to cry out

things are so tiny here

I must throw snowballs on the blackboard

that blinds me

 

Reviews

[eglantine]

beautiful imagery and construction of setting. Strong ending with such a singular image of the white snow against the blackboard. I like the lack of puncuation, each line is like a lil' ant itself but each ant comprises the colony, the poem. Seperate yet together. "things are so tiny here" love that. Not sure if I missed something, but not quite sure about the title, unless a brain is supposed to be like a sponge?

[Cristina Moldoveanu]

Thanks for your comprehensive review. It is true, a brain can be a sponge washing away the past. But here I was thinking about that snow (purity and also anger) washing away traces of knowledge acquired in the school, sometimes things that were not quite true or truly understood in the past. Something about the loss of innocence.

[eglantine]

makes sense. Thanks for explaining :)

[zainul]

Any myrmecologist may love to come and see the caravan of ants that may devastate your collection tomorrow.
Wonderful poem.