A Brand New Poem

"Night Poem"


For all my life
I've been filled with poems
though I seldom took the time
to shake them loose;
did not measure them for meter,
did not play with their rhyme.

Now they crowd my sleep,
mess with my dreams.
Mornings come
and it seems

I've had no rest.

Brilliant metaphors
lie scattered on the floor;
turns of phrases
worth dying for
walk out the door.


Finally, last night,
awake again at three,
I lifted back the cover
and turned on the light.
I reached for my pen
and that's when
carefully crafted sentences
scurried away,
seeking the dark
like cockroaches.