Will It Be the Last Laugh of the Day

who ha

Will It Be the Last Laugh of the Day

I remember morning as a wave of unknown origin
A creepy ladder of light twisting around the clock's hands.
My feet ventured southward accumulating a distaste for what may come to me.
I suppose there is some sort of tale to this rhyme,
hiding in a somnolent awakening of writer's prose
crossing over the apex of dramatic drunken fool
Or perhaps a second hand fool living in a bloom room
wandering about the mysteries of iambic pentameter.
Let me offer a howl or two to the unworthy reader
and shake the hand of penmanship's ink.

Reviews

[Alfred Kukitz]

Wow!

I'm amazed at your review better than the poem itself. What a treat you are!

Regards,
Al

[jacob erin-cilberto]

wonderful metaphor and personification...

it's like getting up in the middle of the night to make love with the muse---mysteries to explore...awakenings...and words to bloom pregnant .....and lo and behold...a poem.

j.