Miracle

Author’s Note: I wrote this during exam. Science paper, to be exact. I know, all the grammar is horribly wrong, but it’s how poetry is supposed to be, innit?

I stare out the window,
Saw the flight of a minnow,
Wish to escape to a meadow,
To a place where only I know.

But I pull myself straight back here,
Even though I will myself to be a free deer,
With nothing to worry or fear,
Not a lie or a leer.

“Pay attention,”
Said strict Mr. Parshen,
For there is heavy tension,
To rid me of my elation.

I said, “Yes, sir,”
“Please continue where you were,”
Another boring, tedious lecture,
How I wish for a miracle to occur.

As I was dangling my pencil over the table,
The minnow held its child cradled,
Just like the creatures from a fable,
Written yet unlabelled.

I rise up excitedly,
To follow the bird freely,
It took me to a house by the sea,
And I was enchanted dearly.

Poor bird was injured bad,
It swirled and fell onto the table pad,
It whimpered softly just like a lad,
And my heart squeezed just a tad.

“Oh, no,” I exclaimed,
My miracle has just been aimed,
By who cannot be named,
Little bird so tamed.

It is ironic, I say,
When what you love is at bay,
In danger we lay,
As everything will be swept away.

No safety for us,
What happened to happiness?
We are now covered in tears,
Terrified and hopeless.

I stare ahead,
At the mess we made,
Alas, we are paid,
With revenge handmade.

I am looking for a miracle,
A lasting one to be my oracle,
For I am unsure how the Earth will curl,
And all our lives fatal.

The trees, the flowers, the plants,
Dry up and die at once,
Animals don’t stand a chance,
No, that’s not what the bird wants.

What I want is pretty simple,
As easy as you carve a dimple,
Give me back my life ripple,
For it is you that have ample.

A shout arouses me from my thoughts,
It is Mr. Parshen who retorts,
I apologise as I fiddle with my bow knots,
And realize he is talking about subplots.

I sigh, over and over again,
Disappointment I do not feign,
What do men gain,
From Mother’s slain?

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