Lost Weekend
Trapped within this living Hell,
no guardian angel breaks the spell.
Colored tan or gray or brown.
Elevator music, sound turned down.
Slow as molasses or legs in splints.
It’s windows smudged by fingerprints
so not one ray of light gets through.
Caught fast like velcro, stuck like glue.
Pointless conversation tending
to go on without an ending.
Tasteless food within the fridge.
Endless hours of contract bridge.
TV blaring with contact sports,
Fox News and stock market reports.
Boredom swells like a balloon.
Would that it were over. Soon!
NaPoWriMo Day 4, The prompt was to express an abstract idea through Concrete Images. I chose “boredom.”
lifelessons - a blog by Judy Dykstra-Brown 
This makes me feel those long days of waiting. My mum calls them the ‘Sunday Blues’! Beautiful imagery and what a fun poem to read!
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Thanks so much, Ocean Bream. I remember hating to ever be alone when I was little, but I think as adults we learn that it is worse to be with those who bore us.
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So much worse. I love solitude, in moderation 🙂
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“Pointless conversation tending
to go on without an ending”.
… This line made me immediately think of the typical business meeting 🙂
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Don’t you love it when they repeat the exact same thing two or three times?
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Gaaaah!!!
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Your comment at NaPoWriMo links back to NaPoWriMo, so I added the correct link as a reply to your comment (once it’s approved there, of course)
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Thanks so much.
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Lots of guardian angels on the web, rivr–and you are one, I see. Many thanks.
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Thank you.
And you are most welcome.
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Your poem is a bit too good. I think by Fox News I was yawning yet. 😀
I chose something a bit more… grim.
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