Midnight Poet, a gigan
Writing poems long into the night.
Computer on my lap, beer in my hand.
I’m quite sure I’m a frightening sight.
Everything I write clearly hasn’t been planned
I read the words on the page and they’re so bland.
Prompts fly at me at a record pace.
I can barely keep all my thoughts in one place.
The coffee is brewing upon the stove.
I hope the caffeine unlocks my words.
Writing poems long into the night.
Prompts fly at me at a record pace.
Not wanting to quit but craving sleep
My head nods and bobs all over the place.
My body’s shutting down into a mushy heap.
As my eyes struggle to stay awake,
I gobble down another piece of cheesecake and fight on.
“I read the words on the page and they’re so bland.” This happens everytime I’m on a self- criticising spree and words simply don’t come out of hear. Lying dead, dormant, sleeping, like my muse’ evaporated into thin air.
Love this ‘gigan’ and reading your bio – I hosted an Open Mic pre-pandemic and hope to again soon!!
The gigan was a real challenge but you’ve made it appear effortless whilst at the same time encapsulating the whole feel of our marathon… Thank you sharing this with us 🌞