Class

Class

A Poem by Ruzica

Hot

stuffy air


brown

wooden walls


The resounding voice lecturing

on the American Civil War
in perfect British accent


White board

and blue felt tip pen


rubbish bin

and a Coke can


Ominous closed doors

and the faces of heroes
looking down on me
with smug arrogance


My pencil tracing old names
carved in the desk


their owner's voices feeble

echoing in the oval room


Dim light

no windows

- to see the Sun

to smell the day


some of them flickering out


Voice continuing

muffled chattering
and silence


and the faces

still glowering down
upon us all

© 2014 Ruzica


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Reviews

I really like the way you invoke the ghosts of all who learned history in that room along with your experience of learning history in that room. Well done

Posted 12 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

This is great description and makes the reader feel as if they are standing the room, I especially liked
how you incorporate imes that awaken the senses, likes stuffy air, wooden walls, silence,
This poem is transporting, transporting and crafty, a pleasure to read.

Posted 12 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

wow thats totally my history class

Posted 12 Years Ago


2 of 2 people found this review constructive.

This is a great piece, history is as lost and as meaningless and the names carved in the desk if not taught well. I like the selective descriptions you use to, and I can really picture the place.

Posted 12 Years Ago


2 of 2 people found this review constructive.


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Stats

284 Views
4 Reviews
Rating
Added on March 5, 2009
Last Updated on June 30, 2014

Author

Ruzica
Ruzica

Serbia



Writing
*** ***

A Poem by Ruzica


*** ***

A Poem by Ruzica


*** ***

A Poem by Ruzica



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