The Volunteers
By Jane Hyphen
- 1863 reads
What became of the volunteers?
At school they raised their hands
Stretched them to the ceiling tiles
While I looked down and made
Myself as invisible as the colourful
Butterflies that only I could see
What became of the sporting zealots?
Who joined every team and tried
And always did their best as I
Stood back and imagined my legs
Burning as in the zenith of athletic
Doings but imagining was quite enough
What became of the school choir?
The angelic tones and the eager
Faces attached which sang every
Word so earnestly without question
While I winced and felt ashamed
That I felt so ashamed for them
What became of the drama kids?
Who loved the stage and year
After year would take to it and shine
While I hid with my tambourine and
Jangled it but not too loud in case
Somebody noticed me and I exploded
What became of the geniuses?
Shiny smug beetles which their cellos
On their backs who dissected
Quadratic equations like they were
Stick insects while I just stared out of
The window and counted wasps
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Comments
I'm not sure zenic is a word,
I'm not sure zenic is a word, but if it is this is a zenic poem, which is zenically good and I'm unzenically jealous, Ze nair.
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All schoolkids like to belong
All schoolkids like to belong to some 'group', though maybe belonging to the group of 'ones that try not to be noticed and labelled' is not really a group except in the sense of grouping all the quiet individualists. Maybe some of them are wondering what became of you? I expect you've changed since those days, too?! Rhiannon
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Interesting thoughts, – I
Interesting thoughts, – I wonder if the self-confidence of some was an armour, pretended in fear of peer views. But, yes, keeping your head down and quiet could probably give more opportunity to think, form views honestly, and not feel pressures so much. But, when they got away from the intense peer-pressure atmosphere, maybe some changed … Rhiannon
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I could relate to this poem
I could relate to this poem Jane, when at school I was that quiet child who would go red if the attention was on her, who wasn't ever competitive and just let the popular girls carry on competing. Never would I volunteer for anything incase I failed. It was only when I left school that I came out of my shell.
I like those lines:-
While I look down and made
Myself as invisible as the colourful
Butterflies that only I could see
Kind of sums up the poem and makes me think of the shy child I was, but the butterfly I wanted to be.
Jenny.
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"geniuses? Shiny smug beetles
"geniuses? Shiny smug beetles" YES they were!!! Invulnerable, unsquashable, surviving everything. While I was the worm burying myself in the compost quiet of the library hoping no one would notice and send me squirming outside into all the noise and running about :0)
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