PoemsBrowse PoemsSlamsFresh DropEchoes
LearnWriting TipsPoetry TermsPoets & ArtistsBooksFor Teachers
ExplorePoetry GenomePoem MapEchoesTake ActionGroups
AboutWrite a PoemDonateSign UpLog In

Education


Boredom slowly creeps upon me,

Like a fog on top a hill.

My eyes start glazing over,

My brain is standing still.

I’m trying to take notice,

Of the message being said,

But it all just sounds like noise to me,

Facts won’t stay in my head.

If only I could listen,

For just a minute more,

Yet concentration eludes me,

I’m thinking of the door.

I can see the mouth is moving,

Yet I can’t hear the voice.

It just keeps droning on and on,

About a subject of its choice.

My brain has gone and left me,

And I’m sitting on my own,

With nothing but my thoughts and a pen,

And the voices waffling drone

©All Rights Reserved

Something wrong with this poem?

Share

Replies are closed for this poem.

Stuart Bright

View all poems →

Your Poem's Voice

See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.

Comments (0)

No comments yet. Be the first to share your thoughts.

Log in to leave a comment.