Morning Delirium

An acrostic poem of joyous lament

By Ian ReadPublished 3 years ago • 1 min read

Dreaming ends, there are dozens of thoughts fluttering aimless

In my head. All but one are nameless.

"Salutations, morning sun!" I say as it stabs my eyes.

Tomorrow has come, that is no surprise.

Randomness dwells where my insanity swells,

A speeding silly thought for inspiration, but it was all for naught.

Coffee was my usual remedy

To this wild inconsistent malady.

I rush to my desk with brew in hand

On willingness to write at my mind's command.

"Not again!" I lamented, "The idea is dead! But at least in its absence I have this nectar instead!"

I am an archaeologist, bookwyrm, and story-teller from New Hampshire.

Serial Fiction, Short Stories, and Poetry in diverse genres with a penchant for dark fiction and whimsical fantasy.

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