Watching the clock tick slowly to three,
End of the school day for little ole me.
I'm bored just waiting with nothing to do.
Seconds move like they're stuck in a pot of fondue.
Like being trapped inside on an inclement day,
Or finding your toys have been locked away.
My parents tell me that boredom can breed,
Flashes of insight that inspire indeed.
Ideas that might never have come into your brain,
If weren't so bored, and in such mental pain.
So three cheers for boredom, it can lead you to find,
The masterpiece hiding deep down in your mind.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
a nicely penned poem of what can be created when we are bored?