I did not sign on the dotted line
To stare out of the square window.
I stay at home all week long,
It is a long time to wait for experiences.
I don’t go to work like an ordinary man
I tried to turn my bedroom into an office.
It does not really work in my mother’s tidy and strict house
As I water my small garden plants every day.
I have so many things to say in these poems
I write all the time and make shift the dizzy heights
Of visions and lucid dreaming in the open air outside my house
Where the shed visits me with bigger dreams about success and wealth from my pen.
This is the writer’s den
The haven away from the world I enjoy
There I am at peace from the gearing of finance and economies
So I can play out smaller things to work hard at and enjoy.
AI Summary
It’s a poem about the long, slow days of staying at home, trying to turn a bedroom into an office, tending small plants in a strict family house, and finding that the only real freedom comes from writing — from stepping outside into the open air, dreaming in the shed, and building a private “writer’s den” where the pressures of work, money, and society fall away; the poem holds both the ache of isolation and the quiet joy of having a space where imagination, ambition, and peace can coexist, even when the world outside feels distant and unreachable.
Wild Stage 