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Getting Unbored


Getting Unbored

Bored, bored, bored.
There's nothing good to do.
I don't feel like playing football.
I don't want to paint things blue.

I'm not in the mood for TV,
and I'm sick of hide and seek.
Bored, bored, bored, bored, bored, bored, bored.
I've been bored for a week.

I no longer like my train set,
and my bike is getting old.
All my friends are outside playing,
but I think it's much too cold.

I don't feel like doing anything,
but doing nothing's just as bad.
Bored, bored, bored, bored, bored, bored, bored.
This boredom makes me mad.

I'm tired of my race cars,
and my games are all the pits.
I no longer like my checkers
and I hate my baseball mitts.

I just sit here on the sofa
listening closely to each breath.
If I don't do something soon
I'll probably bore myself to death.

Uh oh. Here comes my mother,
with some chores for 'you know who'.
"I can't clean my room now, Mom!
I've got way too much to do!"

(C) 1998, Arden Davidson

I am trying to find a publisher or agent
to represent any or all of the stories and poems
in "A Pocketful of Rhymes".
If you know anyone that can help, or have comments,
please e-mail me.Thanks!