It's 7: 42 and I have nothing to do
but sit on my bed and stare at a shoe.
This is what I like to do
when I'm home and no knew.
Bored out of my mind
with nothing left behind
to worry about or bother.
Once I start writing,
words quit hiding
and they flow from my pencil.
It seem so easy for me to write
but to others it's a fright.
Listening to my sisters yell,
sometimes I just want to bail,
get out of the house,
go have some fun.
Scream, yell, shout and run.
I think my poem is about done
because I have nothing to write
I wrote enough for the next night.
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about this poem (Boardness by Katie Mix )
- Haiku- A coffin, DEEPAK KUMAR PATTANAYAK
- ANGEL MY NIECE, Suzanna Christina Chevalier
- Magnetizer, Saiom Shriver
- ANDY AT STUDIO 205, Suzanna Christina Chevalier
- Lizzie Borden (Limerick), Dorian Petersen Potter
- ANDERSON'S HOME, Suzanna Christina Chevalier
- ALLS PEOPLE DAY, Suzanna Christina Chevalier
- ALIAS POEM, Suzanna Christina Chevalier
- AIRPORT INSPECTION, Suzanna Christina Chevalier
- Where Once Upon A Morn So Dreary, Noah Body
Poem of the Day
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
- Heather Burns
(22 March 1941 -)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)