Ampitherium
The schoolroom overlooked the downs,
The heather in full bloom,
As Paul Remarque sat heavy-eyed
All through the afternoon,
He heard the teacher's droning voice
But nothing that it said,
As trees and animals and birds
Went racing through his head.
No thoughts of plain arithmetic
Had sullied up his mind,
He had no thoughts of nouns or verbs
Or any of that kind,
He sat bemused, and filled his head
With purple daffodils,
With giant gargoyle anthropods,
And distant, flowered hills.
He'd had the cane so many times,
His hands were almost raw,
The teacher called him out the front
For three times out of four,
He couldn't answer anything
Of what the teacher taught,
His mind was either journeying,
Or else was set to naught.
Then after school he'd race on down
That field at Emile's farm,
The one where no-one ever went
In case they came to harm,
For fissures there had opened up
The limestone caves below,
And that was where young Paul Remarque
Just knew he had to go.
He took a torch, and slid on down
Beneath a giant stone,
The ground had opened up just there,
He always went alone,
He took his torch, and made his way
To chambers down beneath,
Then looked up at the ceilings where
They'd drawn, in light relief.
The cave men of the region, they
Had drawn so long ago
The pictures of their daily lives,
Of bison, buffalo,
Of elk and deer and hunters
[...] Read more
poem by David Lewis Paget
Added by Poetry Lover
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