I haven't posted in a while but have been writing a lot lately. This is just one of the few poetry rants I wrote up earlier this week. I think it's pretty awful just because of he format I'm presenting it in but I figured what the hey, might as well see how I can improve it. This was written on the spot by the way and has had no revision thus far.


Blazing past my side flew a fighter jet
Doing all sorts of loops and tricks before gracefully landing on the teacher’s desk.
It was 9th period on a Friday afternoon, 2:30 pm to be exact.
If I remember correctly, lingering in the air was the scent of moldy cheese.
Perhaps it was my classmate Brandon who sits next to me but this is beside the point.
My foot stayed in rhythm with the ticks of the clock seamlessly weaving about the other noises in the room.
To my left, Dan began to tap his pen against the milky white table.
15 more minutes till the freedom that we have strived all week for is upon us
Keeping a steady drum roll, Eddie harmonized over our percussion ensemble
All around the room we received a general sense of approval
That is until we looked up to find the scorn in Dr. Callan’s eyes
This made us promptly stop and return to our studies.
10 minutes left
Fidgeting in his seat was Chris, apparently the paper airplanes he’d been throwing was the homework due at the end of class.
But Chris’s discomfort had an effect on the entire class as everyone began to move around.
When Carol coughed, so did everyone else in the class.
When Tim got up to get a tissue, so did Tracy, Jessica, and Kayla.
But when I began to tap again, nobody joined in.
So I continued
With each tick of the clock, my foot hit the floor louder producing a slapping sound that Brandon found humorous.
5 minutes left of class
My eyes held steady with the clock
I was starring it down for I cannot let time get the better of me
1 minute to go
60 more taps rang throughout the room
They were not heard though because the uproar of unruly students was too much for one to hear the sounds.
The zippering of backpacks and the hum of passing teenagers in the hallway outside made my tapping inaudible
1 second left
I was the only one left in the room, keeping the beat steady until the bell rang
But I sat there, watching that clock until I was satisfied.
I would never get those 15 minutes back no matter how bad I wanted them.
But it made me realize what can happen in just a few minutes.

After packing up my books I took one last, hard look at that clock and as I was exiting the room, heard Dr. Callan whisper something in my ear to which he followed up by mentioning something about the assignment having to be turned in.
Time is one sneaky bastard