I cannot dream; yet sleep be merry.
My nightmares thrive on paper; may the reader be wary.
Me peace a sweet garden; where others may tarry.
My life an eerie chord; that others may very.
To hide my nightmares i have tried hard.
To my real life for Them, the path has been barred.
Seeming to Them only as a card
Or to others, a local bard
Who by chance, can dance the galliard.
Awoken by fears, replaced by a rhyme.
Crying out just the same, silent as a mime.
Acting as if melancholy were it’s own crime.
Hope all will reveal itself in its own time.
Staring absurdly at the “a.m.” on my clock.
Quietly going over everything, taking stock.
Hope that others, this poem will not mock
even though i write these lines wearing only one black sock.
...Oldie but a goodie for me. It's the first poem i read to someone who asks about my poetry. Non-offensive and fun and it sounds like poetry when read aloud. Written at 3:02 am in 1997 sometime between high school and college. and as with all the ones i'll post here free form moments.
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