Wrote this one last Sunday. A short story depicted as a poem.
Having finished all work,
I’m bored to the core.
There’s no movie on TV,
and no friends galore.
A novel should I read,
or a story should I write?
Time’s in plenty, so I should write,
but really, what to write tonight?
Several ideas striking my mind,
but none too cool and much exquisite.
Change of setting perhaps I need,
a crowded place I need to visit.
Should I go to the market,
or go to the mall?
Fresh air and people all around,
that’s what I need and that’s just all.
Off to the market here I go,
the land full of people, activities and more.
With so much to see and so much to know,
hope I get an idea to further explore.
People, people fill the place,
and sizzling, dancing, colorful lights.
Happy faces, glowing bright,
away from stress and daily “fights”.
Should I write about that girl,
dazzling beauty, talking on her phone?
Or the cheerful couple, walking tight?
Or that stout man, cold as a drone?
What are those pricks, running around,
disturbing the scene, heavy on booze.
Whoa! Is that the actor I saw on TV?
Hell yeah, and that is some news.
Even that little kid can make up my story,
squinting around, looking amused.
So much to take, so much to write,
just the recipe to leave me confused.
Tired of thinking, I’m packing up,
and off I go, flying back home.
Lying on my bed, I’m thinking, I’m musing;
distracted so easily, my mind’s on a roam.
Here I am, still wondering in vain.
Seems I’ll spend all night,
still undecided on
what to write tonight.
