I used to think poems were a wonderful thing,
I read a lot of them, and some I could sing.
Reading them in little books,
And finding some with intriguing looks,
I grew to love poems– until I had to write one.
Then it was a task, which wasn’t very fun.

I thought and sought and fought and brought,
Ideas to the paper, but none were right.
I wanted to be perfect, and tried with all my might.
The wording sounded funky,
Some were surely way too chunky,
But word by word and line by line,
I began to develop something ingeniously fine.











Something still yet bothered me and I began to whine
I couldn’t figure out how to end it or keep going,
And the poem already started getting absurdly boring
The topic was great,
It was about tolerance and hate,
It began something like this:
“Black. White. Red. Brown. Yellow.
Shouldn’t we all be a good fellow?
Let us not care of one’s color,
But care for them like sister or brother.
Christian, Muslim, Jewish, Hindu,
Peace to all no matter who,
Take care of the Atheist
Don’t try to be a MEist.

Many others such as Buddhist and Islam,

Treat them all as nice as your mom,
Take care of one, take care of all,
Together if we stand, none shall fall…”

But I couldn’t think any more!
My brain was oh, so sore!

With so many choices for each word and line,
I searched for the one that would only be mine.
The one that is a personal sign!
The one that sounds majestic, divine!

WOAH! WOE!
Dwindling and dying are the days!
Yet I want to try so many ways!
What is that word that would truly daze?
And absolutely astound or amaze?

YES! YES! I know the word!
In my mind it has occurred,
And swiftly, with gusto I wrote it,
Smiling in pride of my wit.

That next morning was quite a mourning,
As I walked to school,
I felt the story was very cool,
And reading it over for the billionth time,
I smiled with delight at each flawless rhyme

We would be submitting our poems that day,
But it just so happens that I realized on the way,
Oh no! No way! I left it at home! Now what?
I had to think of something or else my grade would get cut!
Think! Think!
During lunch I didn’t take a single drink,
It was all too late! I moaned.
This is my terrible fate! I groaned.
All my hard work, all my time. Wasted.
I might have got a better grade if I copy and pasted.
Suddenly, I thought of a story.
Ahh perhaps I haven’t lost all my glory!
It was about an unfortunate boy who
Used to think poetry was a wonderful thing.