Free

I slouch on a stool and hit my head on the table,

Frustration growing and patience not so stable,

For my horrid nightmares have come to last.

I stare out the window at my peers having a blast,

While I have to write a poem about anything I want.

But this is the problem, the quandary, you see,

Coming up with a topic that I think suits me.

I really don’t care about it, you know,

Only to feel my feet outside in the snow.

Then suddenly a light bulb flickers on in my head,

Triggering an idea that will turn the others to lead,

An idea that will cause Ms. Cracket to faint with disbelief,

An idea that is really, quite the chief.

I will write about the wind and the snow and what makes me feel free,

How the blue sky makes me feel as though I’m in fantasy,

And how I swing my blue tennis racket,

And how I feel as though I’m a strong soldier in an army jacket.

So in a flurry of excitement, I start to scribble,

Concentrating so hard, a bead of sweat starts to dribble,

But nevertheless, I’m done and flatten it out on my knee, Reading it silently to myself, my poem about me.

I fling on my gray winter jacket,

And scramble into my teacher, Ms. Cracket

“Well, I never, you’re done already?”

She says as she adjusts her glasses, the colour of rosemary.

Ms. Cracket’s eyes get wider and wider,

Looking like she’d seen a black widow spider.

“Why, Jack, this is excellent, ever so talented,”

Writing an A+ that feels ever so good,

Knowing that Mom would hug me loads, she would.

And so ends the tale of my nightmare come true,

But didn’t end up so frightening, mind you

Because Ms. Cracket let me go outside and play,

And she told me to do that every single day,

But all this good stuff on only one condition-

“Add some illustrations and paint,”

Which put me into a drop-dead faint!