Poetry (Day 14): Early Hours

For those of you who arrived late, I’m attempting to write a poem a day for 2016. Yes, I know, Crazy, especially for someone who has probably finshed a grand total of 50 poems since I was ten years old. And most of those were too horrible to see the light of day. Most of this year’s probably will be as well. Too bad for them. And you, I guess.

And here I am at Day 14. That is actually further than I thought I would get. And the pressure is building with every day. How will I fell if I get up to Day 321 and forget? Or just can’t do it? (And it’s a Leap Year this year. Nobody told me that when I signed up. 366 it is.)

What makes it even worse at the moment is that I’m sick. Didn’t-go-to-work-all-week, laying-in-bed-for-90%-of-the-day type sick. It isn’t easy. But it’s actually getting easier. (Though that may be because I’m lying around doing nothing most of the day… Hmmm…)

Either way, encouragement is appreciated. Likes are great, comments are even better, so I know you are just randomly clicking stuff hoping for me to return the favour. (Which I won’t do, BTW. I’ll only “Like” if I genuinely like something.)

So, anyway, here is day 14. You may sense a bit of a theme over the last couple of days.


Early Hours

Starlight paints a tree
onto the wall.
There are 57 leaves still
on the winter stripped branches.

The streetlight
on the corner flickers…
flickers… once every 26 seconds.

Oh Mickey you’re so fine,
you’re so fine you blow my mind.
Hey, Mickey.
Hey, Mickey.

I left my phone
at work. Somewhere.
I think it’s
in the second drawer.

109 white stripes
on the curtains.
I never really liked them anyway.

Her breath is soft
in the moonlight.
And I still
can’t sleep.


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