The Poetry Ban

One thousand poems, done and read,

Mom says, “No more! It’s time instead

To learn your English, every day,

Games, books, and words — now come what may.”

I sigh, I laugh, my pen stays still,

Yet in my mind, the verses spill.

The final lines, a rebel’s cheer:

“Poetry ban? I’ll write it here!”

So here’s my pen’s last playful scream,

Before I chase the English dream.

One more poem, the second last,

And then the poetry days are past.