Procrastination Poetry

On not writing a new poem and recycling a poem on procrastination

Photo by Owen Kemp on Unsplash

It’s Wednesdaaaaaaaaaaay (read in a Noddy Holder styley but without the Santa hat).

So it’s poetry or prose day. I’m going to probably cheat this week as I’ve still not recovered from my epic day out at the concert. It’s taken me over two and a half weeks to wash my hair again, and life has been spent proactively resting on the sofa for 99% of my waking hours. I’m improving slowly, but it really is very, very slow. Slower than ever before. I have tried to write new stuff and have about 15 drafts sat waiting working on but I can’t quite get any of them finished. So, in the mode of procrastination for what ever reason I’ve dug out a very old poem, from when I was at Uni and there was an assignment to be written. Appropriately named “The Assignment” And without any more preamble, here it is.

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The Assignment

There’s an assignment to be done,
On the role of the teacher 
And Primary Science.
I’ve tidied the desk
And done the accounts.
I’ve read a book
(Not the right one).
And counted my toes
And there’s still an assignment to be done.

There’s an assignment to be done,
Children’s work to be sorted
And photo’s to be mounted.
So I rearrange the room,
And hovered the carpet.
I fed the rabbit
(For the second time)
And painted my nails.
And there’s still an assignment to be done.

There’s an assignment to be done,
On only one side of the paper
In royal blue ink.
So I practised my guitar
And checked the post.
I looked out of the window
(Yes, yet again)
And played another record 
And there’s still an assignment to be done.

There’s an assignment to be done,
The books sit neatly piled
References unopened and dust laden.
And I rearrange my books
Putting them in alphabetical order.
I write my diary
(And draw silly faces)
And write another letter home.
And there’s still an assignment to be done.

There’s an assignment to be done,
But the paper’s still bare,
And the words won’t come.
So I gaze at the trees and 
Watch the wind toss the 
Green leaves around
As the sun fades.
(And in the distance the Red Arrows practise)
And so I write this poem
And there’s still an assignment to be done.

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And there we are, a Wednesday offering. Enjoy.

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