on fibers coarse
with little clay
nibs are stained
with indigo ink
lines of cursive
carefully formed
seeking meaning
to come forth
chrome plated steel
and laminate wood
plastics cast
a cage formed
aligned in rows
of boys and girls
trying to find
what to know
classroom did form
a prison dark
locked out the sound
of the Muses song
warm air to flow
through wildflowers bright
bees there to hum
and birds take flight
castles to float
on scented breeze
grasses to tickle
bare running feet
through glass so hard
that kept at bay
what could be seen
but a world away
beyond the confines
of what was taught
forms that did constrict
the youthful mind
beauty unseen
did fill the thoughts
where wonder did dance
of what might be
blackboards of chalk
filled with empty words
to teach of things
that were not sought
with quills of ink
in cursive words
seeking the meaning
of the unknown
Blackboards, now I haven't
Blackboards, now I haven't seen those since my university days and early years lecturing in front of a class. Everything was pre-Google back then, all done by hand and sweat; be it calculations or research. Wow. We have come a long way in some ways and not at all in others, even backward sliding as some would note. Thanks for sharing.
here is poetry that doesn't always conform
galateus, arkayye, arqios,arquious, crypticbard, excalibard, wordweaver