Saturday morning 6:am
I’m so excited to hear the ringing
of my beloved alarm clock
I jump out of bed
eager to drink my first morning coffee
I shower, and I dress
and as I’m opening the front door to leave
a gasp of dark air takes my breath
and then with horror in my eyes
and a shaking hand holding the keys to the door
I think…where…
where… are you going girl? it's saturday
how does one come to know what one’s future holds?
if they do not search for it
in every empty space waiting to be filled?
so I went to my second hand dining table
I sat down on my old wooden chair
and I wrote, and I wrote, and I wrote
all the imagery and all that I hate
all that I love
and all that makes me irate
today there is no muse
just I, the paper and the ink…
so I wrote about the Devil
who I believe to be a wimp
how he tricked me into doing many things
things I would never want to do
in my humble opinion this made him rich
but then my pen moved slightly to the left
and I started to believe once more
in the great power of good
I could hear in my head
the great violin of my own Soul
playing the music of existent dreams
finally drowning out his voice and laughter
so now, he’s worthless
and as I pull myself back from the brink of mindless nonsense
my own pride battered like an old decaying cod
waiting to fill the bellies of the starving
It’s now 6:56 am
time to once again get a grip on my sanity
and as I reflect onto the next page
of which I truly hope to write at least a few
maybe I'll even write about an Angel or two?
-
Author:
Teddy.15 (
Offline) - Published: May 4th, 2024 03:09
- Comment from author about the poem: Well I did say epic 🤣
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 29
- Users favorite of this poem: GenXer Shamrocker ☘️
Offline)
Comments6
Life has no joy without balance. No appreciation of the good without experiencing the bad. The muse within you is fired by the fuel of adversity and so all good art comes from extremes with the greatest octane being pain to which joy may be compared. A most poignant write friend.
Thank you from the bottom of my heart dear sorrenbarret 🌹
I have to say this poem is very relatable thank you for saying the truth.
Thank you. 🌹
I’m with sorenbarrett above, with the following exclusions or exceptions:
- I've never owned a beloved alarm clock,
- I ask where… are you going boy? it's Saturday, Sunday, any old day of the week,
- At 6:56 am It’s time to go back to bed…..
Rich write, Teddy.
So I should also thank you from the bottom of my heart dear Dave. Thank you so much. 🌹
It happens sometimes Teddy where we forget which day it is, luckily being retired every day in my life is Saturday!
I am sure those Angels are always there for you to write about.
Andy
Dearest Andy, thank you so much, of the Angels I hope too. 🌹
Indeed epic .. in a word, it say's it all 🌹
Awe Nev, so very kind of you to fish this out. Biggest of hugs to you. 🌹 Thank you.
Powerful and poignant. Beautiful, dear Teddy.
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.