Poetry From Life

Sometimes I spontaneously make up poetry...


1. Three O' Seven am

I’ve done everything I can think of

I’ve made faces in the mirror, counted the cracks in my wall

read poems by Billy Collins, and drawn pictures on my toes

yet the clock next to my bed still taunts me with a number

the time - three o’ seven- beams faintly through the dark

the little flashing colon seems to taunt me heartlessly

it seems to say, “the hour is quite late why are you not in bed?”

my sleepy mind has a conversation with those tiny flashing dots

we tell each other secrets no one else will ever know

and giggle at a joke no one else can ever get

then I realize I am talking to the clock next to my bed

so I shake my head and place it on my desk instead

then I have a sudden urge, almost like a sudden vision

I could step onto my roof and turn on all the lights in the heavens

and I would sing a song to beautiful the whole wide world would listen

I sigh and close my eyes because the bliss of sleep still eludes me

so for now I eat some chocolate that I thought to stash away

and pray that I will pass the exam I have to take today

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