Poetry By Moonlight
They came in deep and darkest night,
As slumber chased behind my sight
First one, then two, then three and four
To my literary door.
I opened wide to let them in,
Words in jumbled acumen,
Rearranged within my brain
As sleep eluded, senses waned.
I rose, fled quickly from my bed
To capture musings in my head;
Stumbled I to my writing desk
In pale moonlight, to start my quest
Of immortalizing bless-ed words
That came like slumber's fleeting birds.
I wrote by moonlight's silver sheen,
My pen assailing paper clean.
I wrote till all had flowed without,
A work of genius, t‘was no doubt;
Slumber ran, caught up with me
And closed my lids so sleep could be.
My dreams were rich, and I was too,
I wanted fame like Angelou;
Laureate of all the world,
Nation’s flags for me unfurled!
When next I woke, the sun was high,
The day had dawned, and so had I
Upon the fact that poem grand
Was sitting there within my hand!
Upon the sheet I gazed – alack –
There was no poem, front or back!
Searching high and searching low,
Where, oh, where did my poem go?
The one that sealed my fortune's fate,
A masterpiece (at least, line eight);
Line twelve was surely heaven fed,
Wish I knew just what it said.
I'm pretty sure line twenty four
Was pretty good for an amateur.
And thirty two, a dying ember,
I'd give an eyetooth to remember.
‘Twas then I happened upon pen
That I had used to write my zen;
I saw my fortunes quickly shrink,
The pen I used was out of ink.
My fate was cruel, but I'll not weep,
For next, when Muse disturbs my sleep,
I will be ready! They shan’t escape,
Those immortal words, I’ll catch on tape!
If only I can remember to buy
Four Double A’s for the power supply.