Just to get out of bed. |
In my morning chamber, A conditioner cools the clime, Arousing my sensitive skin, As if touched by amorous spirits, Misty wisps of falling water, Or feathery fronds of shades, Fanned by ancient servants. While gnarled knots obsessively, Attack my slack lower back, The stress of skipping weekday work, Mingles with the mangling churn, Of my cereal starved stomach. My nasal receptors reject, The subtle earth scented stench, That swirls like swarms of gnats, Unfazed by swipes of my hand. Yet, Here I lie, Relating this time in rhyme, As if some reason to rise exists. Maybe it does, Maybe it doesn't, But I have to believe in something, Just to get out of bed. (24 Lines) Free verse: Poetry with no regular meter or rhythm; uses alliteration, imagery, simile, metaphor, hyperbole, and other poetic devices to provide artistic expression.
|