Stolen Time

Trying to collect pieces

of time,  minutes found lingering

in-between lecture halls, leftover

seconds from deep, recreational

breaths against Spencer’s Faerie

Queen. In these scarce, compressed

moments, brief dimensions where

I cease to be a student, I sneak

glances from novels unlisted on my

course syllabus, nibble at a blueberry

or two and type furiously on the keyboard

to release spontaneous bursts of poetry

before I need to return to my desk,

the real world, and once again resume

my duties as a anonymous slave of

my English professors.

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3 comments

  1. zumpoems · September 19, 2011

    Very nicely stated: “In these scarce, compressed moments, brief dimensions where I cease to be a student,”

  2. vampireweather · September 15, 2011

    haha I can relate well to this poem. Well done!

  3. slpmartin · September 15, 2011

    You made me smile with this by your enidng.

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