In year twelve maths
Problems were being hammered into my head.
Bell went, next lesson.
Chemical terms were being repeated, learnt, revised.
In Classics every character's action was picked apart
Until personality and spontaneity were but an equation
Or a plot tool.
And it was at that point
My head kicked my creativity clean out!
Stunned at first, it sat at my feet
And though I realised its place and injury
I had no time to pick it up.
Realising it was unloved it shed a tear
And it up
And it left
And I never saw it again.
I miss it more than any limb or sense -
My outlet, my passion, my potential.
The cost of learning Pythagoras
Is high these days.

- Carla Gratton

In year twelve maths
Problems were being hammered into my head.
Bell went, next lesson.
Chemical terms were being repeated, learnt, revised.
In Classics every character's action was picked apart
Until personality and spontaneity were but an equation
Or a plot tool.
And it was at that point
My head kicked my creativity clean out!
Stunned at first, it sat at my feet
And though I realised its place and injury
I had no time to pick it up.
Realising it was unloved it shed a tear
And it up
And it left
And I never saw it again.
I miss it more than any limb or sense -
My outlet, my passion, my potential.
The cost of learning Pythagoras
Is high these days.

- Carla Gratton