22.30: An Unrhymed Poem


Summary: It is a poem about me who is mad to the clock because it does not give me more time.

People are busy eating a bucket of task at 22.30

Musty feeling ruins, doing a nonsense chore feels lazy

Thinking how long it takes by saying what on earth

Sitting with the laptop with the tabs open,

I look at the browser, listen to music, finish.

I start myself wondering that

I am a busy girl at night

I live every hour

And I am glad to realize that.

Brother stays up all night to watch movies, all the football stuffs,

To eat nuts, to boo,

To scream, and then falls asleep

22.30 is really a ‘me’ time for him.

TV turns suck somehow

Why? Oh, why? He asks

Commercial, you are a long movie and a bug

Poor you, poor me, I say.

Kids have slept at 22.30, but time doesn’t matter for them

Sure, they are sleeping is parents’ consciousness, they go downstairs

The child pretends to sleep

Giggling happily, falling asleep

Children are questionable, they are just a kid who

Just want to spend their childhood

Missing my childhood, why cannot I go back to the 3-year-old me?

The visibility of night at 22.30 appears when

Pansy men walk on the sidewalk, drunken people

Destroy public properties; Tramps hang on the sidewalk,

Beggars sleep on the sidewalk, Singers sing on the traffic light,

Tacky youths pedal their motorcycle

How noisy!

What a night!

Sometimes scary though

Ghosts hang around in the cemetery,

In the haunted place,

Behind us,

Beside us,

In front of us

And even in the inside,

Do not rush just pray as I say to myself

Though, I am scared.

Night defines itself at 22.30

The cold temperature thrills me, the hiss thrills me

Crickets sound and silent while owls hum and sob

Bats fly and hang on the tree

That man beside my house is surprised

At the rotten fruit he finds.

When every door is closed

Malls and schools are closed

Gates and houses are locked

All are closed indeed

No noisy sounds and bright lights

A silence sound and a dark light only.

Then it turns out to be 23.00

Good Lord is the only word I say to the clock

My parents are in their room;

My brothers are dreaming about

Yesterday and tomorrow;

I still murmur with my laptop opens,

And my eyes begin to sore, sleepy eyes,

And I nod because of devil’s whisper

Oh, come on, I shout and slowly,

The clock turns out to be 23.30.

I do not want to wait any longer

I am eager to say this to you

I am not a lazy person

I can move, just like you

I am just waiting the perfect time

To eat these bunch of tasks ‘cause

Night leads my idea, and

Makes me sleepy.

Hey, I do not understand you

What a punctual person you are!

You have those smart things which

I do not have in me

I need a break

Please give me a break right away, time!

Give me time to sleep in peace!

Thank you to Yuli Triastuti and Sisca Delani for correcting my grammar and suggesting the right diction.


– Frost, Robert. 1916. Out, Out. Retrieved March, 18, 2014, from http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/238122.

– Woodson, J. (2003). Locomotion. United States: Penguin Books.

Word count: (503)

Link for Dramatization.


3 thoughts on “22.30: An Unrhymed Poem

  1. 180410120092/E

    After I read this poem, the first thought that I want to say is simply creative. Your idea is really simple but sounds fun to write, and I think this is interesting. I can imagine how noisy it is in your head. The first line really describes your main idea of this poem. I am interested in the part of talking about the ghosts, which ends with “Do not rush just pray as I say to myself”. I think this can be related to the whole story, I mean when you say “And even in the inside,” which I refers to the devil in our soul. The evil thought that makes us lazy or tries to delay our task. Overall, the way you represents this poem is such amusing!


    • 180410120057/B

      thank you for the thoughts, and for reading my work also helping me to figure it out more, Intan. I have the same opinion with you that you imagine a noisy sound in my head. This is what always happens to students when doing their assignment, including me and you. Sometimes we feel bored, tired, restless even mad because of it. Then we follow our conscience whether it is an evil whisper or (an) angle whisper. However, we tend to hear the evil whisper to procrastinate what we have to do. We never aware with time. So, time becomes very cruel to us. That is the point of the poem.


  2. 180410120062
    Class B
    This is a really interesting writing. I find it very amusing and you have wrote it so well. It must have come from your own experience. I love the way you elaborate the situation on 22.30 pm, how the clock is running from time to time, how the character being opressed by her/his tasks and her/his neighbourhood around him/her. I can tell that this is a free-verse poem, you make a good rhyme at some lines but they did not appear regularly. Overall, I like this poem so much. This was a brilliant work, a very truthful work and full of creative ideas. (Word: 107)


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