Wringing Out a Few Limp Lines
Daylight drags its feet,
its slippers are grey and pad silently.
Long after dawn
night keeps rolling over in its grave
refusing to die or give way.
Bats flutter listlessly in twilit belfries
somewhere upon a moonlit pond
a trout is crossing over a fishy Rubicon.
It is belly-up, a mottled death gleams
upward where only yesterday it leapt.
The dawn is going nowhere.
In dew-wet theme parks
unicorns shake their soggy manes.
The cat dreams on and will not
visit the litterbox for hours yet.
I am bogged down inside a poem
seeking not, rhyme nor reason,
but a little wiggle room, a plausible excuse
why this tardy day has marooned me
just nowhere,
with nothing more to say.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
