I’ve been staring at a blank screen for hours,
At a loss of words and inspiration,
What must I write about now
After a long ramble on menstruation?
I feel like a cloth run dry,
Wrung out until I’m empty,
My ideas are dull and hollow,
When once they were aplenty.
I’ve never been one for poetry,
Hence, forced to stick to prose.
My rhyming is laughably childish,
And my meter is astonishingly morose.
“Grow a pair and try!” I said,
As a tremor swept through my hands,
“Write it when you’re high!” I said,
“Nope. Not a chance.”
So to update you on my life,
Of eighteen years and nine months,
I’m going to Uni with smarter people
So I’m bound to feel like a dunce.
I heard a tale of a genius in college,
To find out who was stealing her food,
Put a laxative in her tasty soy milk
Next morning: to the toilet, the thief was glued.
I’ve been reading Pride and Prejudice,
It has my commendation,
Oh, how I wish we’d still speak like this!
I bewail English’s degradation.
I watched Shashi Tharoor’s brilliant speech, (No, seriously. Click here to watch it.)
On reparations and Indian strife,
That almost took my mind of
The controversy with his late wife.
I cried myself to sleep for nights.
For in a cage in the hospital my dog had to stay,
But now he’s back and in the pink of health,
And barks his head off all the livelong day.
In other news, in case you don’t read the paper,
A politician made an insensitive remark,
A sportsman earned more than a country,
And two celebrities found an unlikely spark.
I understand my poem lacks a point,
Or even a definitive theme,
But I do own a poetic license,
So I can write anything, even if I break the rhyme scheme haha I can do whatever I want
Anyway, as I sit on my window sill,
And watch the rain hit the ground,
I relish the feel of this city,
Its curious smells and sounds.
A sense of euphoria engulfs me,
My tummy tingles, stirs and shakes,
But I realise I’ve been at this for hours,
And all I need is a pee break.