More Poetry by Robert R. Woods

February 18, 2013

   I wrote this next poem late last just trying get myself to go to sleep. I wrote it original just as a comment on Facebook but liked it enough to work on it today. Okay, okay you caught me. I probably worked on it all day today to keep away having to do laundry. I'm appalling. Using my art to cover up my laziness. Not right at all.

Ghost Poet

 

Early in the morning…

my brain has fallen asleep...
consciousness snores lightly...
but my eyes are still counting
a few stray sheep still leaping
across the couch.
I wonder why the ghosts haven't
arrived yet? Often enough they’re
early, sitting patiently… cross-legged
in the corner waiting for me to get
the hint. Haunting's not much fun
for them when I'm busy writing a poem...
And they don't like it much when I include
them in some random nonsense I’m
creating on the computer right before
bedtime... Rather shy my demons are...
They refuse to talk out loud… they know
me far too well... any chain rattling, any
ghostly moans  they might make will probably
find a way onto the page ... For nothing is
sacred to a poet... not even the dead.

rrw o2-17-13