Midnight Inside My Head

Alan .S. Jeeves

The hour boldly strikes midnight inside my head.

I have already endured the long and thoughtful day.

I'm courting precious ambitions of sleep and bed

But there remain, still, things for me to do...

So many untitled pages are left unread, unsaid.

 

It's night-time within and so very dark,

I wonder if I'm truly able to see.

But inside my head I detect a forlorn spark;

Distant, sure, but just bright enough ~

It's an uncertain voyage on which my ideations embark.

 

I see before me a further adventurous day looming

Awaiting the daylight which is no longer here.

I think of my existence, my thoughts consuming

And devouring these ideas until it has nourished its fill.

Clouds of conceptions, or misconceptions, are forever pluming.

 

As I live and breathe in order to stagger along

I stumble blindly through this darkness of mine.

I have grown weak now but my mind stays strong.

I am conscious of all the tasks I must perform

And place things in the order in which they belong.

 

I longingly look forward to the morning's golden thread.

Birds will sweetly sing and the sun will illuminate me.

All my words are now coloured over with blue and red

But tomorrow a new day is born and I will remember them

Though, for now, ~ maybe forever ~ it's still midnight inside my head.

 

                                               ASJ

 

 

  • Author: ASJ (Pseudonym) (Offline Offline)
  • Published: January 30th, 2020 10:16
  • Comment from author about the poem: Burning the midnight oil trying to write music or verse and striking while the iron is still hot, before sleep completely extinguishes an idea.
  • Category: Unclassified
  • Views: 58
  • User favorite of this poem: A Boy With Roses.
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