Sticky fingers (not sticky keys)
Crave - A powerful feeling of desiring something
- I blink once and I am born and I blink again and im near the end
I am filled with youth but rotting like fruit my skin turns into sand
- I believe therefore I am but I am solely a speck of dust on a rock
I live to exist and to accomplish my desires before my clock stops
- I sit on my chair in front of my desk
Yearning for productivity to relieve me from stress
- I eat an apple and my body absorbs its essence
It fuels my mind and readies itself for the present
- Alas my mind has been struck by inspiration and begins to form
Forms into words that drip through my fingers that turn them warm
- Every stroke and every press of the key
Will add to my core slowly but surely
- Before I go to sleep or take a nap after making a poem I adore
I use the bathroom and then get a bite to eat then spill ranch on my floor
-
Author:
Ernie (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: January 14th, 2020 19:45
- Comment from author about the poem: Are the fingers sticky metaphorically from literature or the ranch I wonder..... I hope you like the poem and have a wonderful day and or evening. - T
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 22
- Users favorite of this poem: jarcher54
Offline)
Comments3
Your labor of love and love of your labors in producing poetry shine through. The metaphor of blinking does a commendable job of putting our place in the larger scheme of things in perspective. Enjoyed this.
Thank you very much
Awesome muse here written in fab rhyming wow, . I liked the line speck of dust on a rock and others . Kudos.
Pls Pleez do read and comment my newest poem too.
Wonderful accounting of humdrum daily events rendered with wit and wisdom... for a youngster like you!
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