Detention Poem by Conor Ross

The empty wasteland filled
With half a dozen desks

I enter it with a book as small as a gun
To face the teacher as angry as a wasp

A desk approaches with mere caution
An offers me a seat of burnt wood

I sit down and the book opens causing a mighty storm
I pick up my pen and begin to write

As i write the wasteland transforms into
The scene of which I am writing

As I finish writing the play with a dozen scenes
My pens rips itself out of my hand hand and does a jig

A pair of staring eyes, looks from the darkness
Dragging me back to no mans land

A bell rips the silence apart like a ferocious lion
Bringing me down to Earth into the empty classroom
As the teacher dissapears