Today I wrote a poem.
You might not like it as a poem,
But at least poem rhymes with poem,
And it works well for a poem.
Time is all I've gotten.
Though I have not yet forgotten,
How to make poems begotten
And with luck they won't be rotten.
Rhyme is the key -- remember,
One cannot write without an ember
In one's mind that makes November
Christmasy, like 'twas December.
Every good things have to end.
I do not want to make you blend
Thoughts and writings into an
Rhymeless piece of shite.
The end.
I'm lost in the light
I'm lusting the void
People around me
Are nothing, but noise
I am surrounded
There's nowhere to go
The lack of the bright
Is where I feel home
Written at 17 August 2021
"No!" The angry student exclaimed, "I told you already! This is it! I refuse to change any of it!" He threw his papers in the air and stormed out of the lecture hall.
"What was that about?" asked the curious bystander, who helped Mark to pick up the angry student's essay.
"Just another art student refusing criticism," he said as he looked at his empty wrist, "do you know what time is it?"
"It's 11:05," she revealed with morbid casualty.
Written for 24 hour flash story writing competition, given theme was Ruthless Ambition.
This was a writing practice in preparation for a 300 word flash story writing competition. 2/2 people who read it seemed to like it, so now it's here.
Randomly chosen theme was Justice.
It's found me. Ran inside and closed the door. Tell--