Friday Poetry: "The End of the World"

Hey, lovelies! Friday's here without fail! Something very... interesting, shall we say, happened today at school. I was sitting in art class, minding my own business, when suddenly - without any prior warning whatsoever - the power went out. We later learned that some sort of fuse blew in the school's main electrical grid; they had to call in engineers, but in the meantime we were left sitting in the dark for about an hour. A rather unfortunate thing, especially when one is in an art classroom and some sort of light source is pretty imperative, in order to see the sketch that one is working on.

However! The good news was, nobody was actually working anyway. In fact, I wrote a poem today about just exactly what they were doing instead. I may have taken a few liberties here and there, but all in all this is the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. I had a lot of fun writing this. ;)


love, Topaz

The End of the World

so, honey, what did you learn at school today?

well, mother, today I learned what happens when the world ends.

silence. perplexed speculating has-she-finally-gone-round-the-bend I-knew-all-that-writing-wasn’t-good-for-her what-am-I-going-to-tell-her-father sort of silence.

come again? 

and so I clear my throat and tell her.

it happened suddenly.

one moment, sitting in art class bare feet, shoes arranged in meticulous nonchalance in front of us sketchpads open, attempting to capture the effortless elegance of sprawled shoelaces and dirt-caked rubber soles in shades of charcoal black and paper white

door open to let out the incorrigible odour of deodorant and feet crooning melodies wafting from the radio and I, head down, sketching my shoes listening to heated arguments echo through the room on global warming, politics, and whether Justin Bieber and Selena Gomez really should have gotten back together

then, one tick of the clock –

pitch black.

radio silenced.

pencils frozen, hovering inches above paper.

weak sunlight, still filtering through the open door, trying valiantly to replace the comfort of artificial LED lights.

one endless moment of shock, and then uproar.

screams, loud and terrified: we’re all gonna die! terrorists are here! the world is ending! I really think it was the last one that did it; people throwing down sketchbooks hurling pencils recklessly into the atmosphere shrieking final confessions to the winds and running, barefoot, out to die under the open sky

half-crazed people from other classrooms did not exactly help the chaos; nor did the airplane the only thing marring the perfect blue of a kite-flying bubble-blowing summer sky because, of course, it could not have been an innocent passenger jet but a group of terrorists come to kill us all

the art teacher, I believe, was still attempting to round up some semblance of order – a rather difficult thing to do when the end of the world is commencing but a courageous effort nonetheless

and I, still in the dark art classroom a bubble of pristine serenity amongst the tumbling rumbling avalanche of pandemonium surrounding me sketching my shoes and listening to the end of the world

or, to put it a different way – a power outage.