Analysis of Don't Have Anything To Do
My eyes popped out in overwhelming exasperation; my sockets dancing restlessly on the floor,
My lips distorted themselves to incomprehensibly horrendous contours; biting themselves satanically as the moon blossomed to a perilously sinister glow,
My hair stood up like thunderbolts of stringent electricity; blazing fireballs of despondency towards the sky,
My fists curled into an insurmountably formidable punch; aching to thunderously batter arid wisps of breeze painstakingly blowing around,
I am sure that my treacherous plight must be the same as that besieging you my friends; when we just don't have; anything to do.
My sweat dribbled down in cyclonic frenzy; proliferating by the unfurling minute; into fathomless oceans clashing against the walls of nothingness,
My teeth locked themselves in an immortally peevish embrace; chattering countless times in an indefatigable search for spurious solace,
My skin developed boundless goose bumps of profound disdain; shivering incessantly in the inexplicable trauma lingering in placid air,
My ears heard a volley of sounds which were entirely non-existent; kept inexorably iterating tunes which hovered countless feet beneath the graves,
I am sure that my treacherous plight must be the same as that besieging you my friends; when we just don't have; anything to do.
My yawn reverberated more diabolically than the demons; as I tossed unrelentingly on my lackadaisically strewn four poster bed,
My shadow fluttered miserably in the domains of hell; shrinking its robust proportions to more inconspicuous than an ant; in its quest for treading on the
unexplored,
My eyelashes withered ferociously towards unruly soil; wanting to rejuvenate themselves thoroughly in the fabulously rain soaked mud,
My throat blurted a myriad of obnoxiously hoarse tunes; permeating through the realms of normalcy with its relentlessly hysterical shrieking,
I am sure that my treacherous plight must be the same as that besieging you my friends; when we just don't have; anything to do.
My stomach belligerently puked out foul matter from the inner most recesses of my intestines; contracting to as thin as an infinitesimal whisker; struck by body blows of mind-boggling desperation,
My fingers scribbled an unfathomable battalion of nonchalantly incoherent literature; swished menacingly to emboss the most hideously invidious forms in loose sand,
My neck swirled in infinite directions as the clock ticked; profusely confused by the happenings that unleashed themselves in the surrounding,
My heart sank all its beats in my acrimoniously pointed boots; my breath and soul searched frantically for the paths on which the Sun austerely shone in its fiercely flamboyant shine,
I am sure that my treacherous plight must be the same as that besieging you my friends; when we just don't have; anything to do.
Scheme | xxxxA bbxxa xxxxcA xx cxA |
---|---|
Poetic Form | |
Metre | 1111001001011010100101 110100110010010110011101101010001001 11111111001001010101000101 111011110001101110101111001001 111111001110111010111111111011 11101011001001001010011101001011100 11101011100110010101010001110010 110101011101011000100000100101000101 111010111001001010101000111101010101 111111001110111010111111111011 110100111010111111111101 111010000001111010101011010011101111010 01 11010010001010110101001100001000111 1110010011111001011100110100010010 111111001110111010111111111011 11011111010101100110101001111100100101110111100010 1101010100001011010001010001100010101100001001011 1110100010101101001101001010100010 111111011101110111000101110110101100101 111111001110111010111111111011 |
Characters | 2,836 |
Words | 438 |
Sentences | 4 |
Stanzas | 5 |
Stanza Lengths | 5, 5, 6, 2, 3 |
Lines Amount | 21 |
Letters per line (avg) | 112 |
Words per line (avg) | 21 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 469 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 88 |
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"Don't Have Anything To Do" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 11 Jun 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/49811/don%27t-have-anything-to-do>.
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