Page 20 - ISS Profectus E Magazine

A Poem Out of the Blue

Writing a poem is onerous,

Should it be engaging or humorous?

Should it be about aliens?

Or refer to a ghost,

To keep the reader lost is what I care the most.

Every time I recite it,

I feel like I should rewrite it.

With my hands shaking,

Hours feel like days of making.

Such a mess is writing a poem;

After reading, it still feels ho-hum.

People who think writing a poem is a piece of cake,

Never understand how hard they’re to bake.

Writing a poem without a lend,

And making a bend at wit’s end,

Thinking endlessly without a sob,

Might be the mightiest job.

Should it be engaging or humorous?

Should it be about aliens?

Or refer to a ghost,

To keep the reader lost is what I care the most.

Just it is to adjust the content and rhyme,

Still doesn’t end with my clock’s chime.

All my brain can do to help is to think,

Heart is the guide to fill the ink.

By this time I had no clue,

I wrote a whole poem out of the blue.

By
Shourya Upadhyay

VII F

19