Back to school

Back to school

Back to school

Blue and white uniform, we marched out
in gallant boots,
Happy that this is the end
Tyranny of teachers
and exams,
Test of patience – memory
Crushed with numbers, facts
Obstinate for authorities
We romped – no more books
That we don’t want to read,
No more walls,
Pink Floid started
Pouring music to our ears
Progressive and
Mind-bending – who needs
a classroom anyway?
Never did we think, we’re
Walking into a bigger school,
No more tests after lessons
But lifelong lessons
After tests – and yes,
One day, much to our surprise,
We’ll all return, in tiny steps
Glossy books and twinkling eyes
Eager to read
Worldful of

Gabriella has us write stories of going back to school. Hope you’d like to join us on Dversepoets. Door open at 3 PM EST. The photo is from Hyderabad where I joined a street event with my little one.

Chronicles of a traveller


‘You know?
Back in 2007, 26th Jan I spent the night in Stansted airport
Having missed the last flight and nowhere to go
Retired to a book, for some time,
Then watching life, hopping countries’

‘Old memories, huh?
You seem to remember dates well’

‘Oh! but I do – 4th September, later that year,
I did a similar prowl at Stranraer pier
Waiting for the first ferry to Belfast next morning,
Lost in Glasgow, late
Eager for home and rest,
Through silence, fatigue’

‘7 years and you talk about – as if almost it like yesterday’

‘Or, until recently, 9th October last year,
Flying over Europe early morning
I realized I was leaving a bright sun behind and
Moving towards darkness ahead
Something I had never seen’

‘Ah! Moments that never age!”

‘Right! You know, it’s not just a notebook
That traveled as much,
Not mere pages, handwritten dates/moments
Words, but not just words
Age shall not wary them, nor the years condemn’

‘Like that memorial in Ballymena?’

‘Like that – yes, the purest, the truest me
Will live on, and on-’

Tonight on dVersePoets Meeting The Bar, Victoria has us write about objects, their memories and metaphors. The first thing I could think about was the small notebook I carry along, in which I never write much but how the insignificant object has become an integral part of it. Hope you like it. Read the other poems from tonight’s prompt here. The photo was taken 7/8 years back in Ireland – a memorial of soldiers in first world war.