The Poetry Place

Monday, 14 March 2011 17:33:36

Pupil droplets: in ones and twos
down the streets and lanes,
they gather into threes and fours,
form streamlets
coalescing into brooks
and then into rushing burns
as the school gates are reached,
pour in and swirl and whirl
and, momentum eddying,
pause  and find their level
in the reservoir of class or hall.
But this river is nothing compared
to the bursting of the dam
and the torrent which outpours
when the final bell sounds.

I like the one long sentence carrying the words and the pupils rushing to their destination. Though many dawdle of course. And there's a tempting rhyme in my mind in the form of 'breached'.  

I wonder if there's too much sense of hurry here when pupils tend to walk pretty slow and steady into school?


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