just five minutes ago,
i ate half a bowl of oatmeal
and stared at my statistics book
mostly i was waiting for the words to crawl out,
numbers and letters and especially exclamation points,
and deposit themselves on my paper, settling in for the night
--factorials 'r us!, i could call it, or not, because math is not a joke
math is nature! says my stats professor, and maybe i agree
the thing is,
this microwaved cardboard bowl filled with the remains of
mushy, warm, bland-as-khakhi oats --
it's a lot like my life,
unexciting, unhealthy -- unfinishable,
just sitting there in the bowl
untouched, just sitting here in the room
alone.
Author notes
k so technically this is 16 lines (counting lines as the ones actually with text) but i figured since the last line was just one word you could cut me a break? lol, it's not poetic, it's just the collection of my thoughts from the last thirty minutes or so. maybe you'll appreciate it. 
A contest entry
- it's quickie time. by heaven all alone.
1100 points, ended October 21, 4 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
please?
Comments
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The second stanza made me smile for some reason, the 'especially the exclamation points' part. =P Good comparison with the bland oatmeal.
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