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I wrote most of this poem in my sleep. |
| I have decided on the theme, I have chosen the poem's form, I have completed eight whole lines, And when I fall asleep I dream, That my words grow into a storm, Raining metaphorical mines. As I am woken from my sleep, I write every phrase as it comes, Writing jumbled lines and stanzas; Into my drowsy mind rhymes creep, While the syllables sound like drums: Great simile extravaganzas. Somewhere inside this mess of words, I know that there are odes hiding, To find them, I just have to look, Gather them in separate herds, Like horses waiting for riding, And transcribe them into a book. When writing poetry in bed, Make sure that your mind is awake, to hear the words it said. Poet's Note: ▶︎ |