Friday, June 21, 2019

Early Riser

I awoke from my somnolent flight,
As morning began to devour night;
Cascades of words spilling forth so deep,
I gasped for air and couldn't sleep.

In the dim, unearthly chill and damp,
I moaned with a sharp, poetic cramp,
Struggled to focus my bleary sight,
And tapped away in my screen's harsh light.

Wan pewter light filled my window frames,
As I fought for words and thoughts and names.
Slowly my thoughts finally coalesced,
In a mind that simply would not rest.

I marshalled my sluggish, weary mind,
A writer's drive and finesse to find.
I saw my muse on a distant hill,
And beckoned her to come closer still.

Despite my efforts to wax profound,
My muse walked away without a sound.
I searched for reasons, but don't know them.
All I got was this silly poem…

Mick McKellar
June 2019

The early bird gets the worm, but all I got was Drang and Sturm.


No comments: