Wednesday, April 25, 2018

NaPoWriMo, Day Twenty-Five, Poem Nine


No Poem

on the train
room for thought
only after six.

must leave now.
Don't know why
no one likes you late.

No one knows
what to do
when you're early.

But they sure hate
when you stay
writing poems.

Fold your lobster claws
gripping archaic
pad and paper.

until you stab heart
with now way
to make a record.

Next stop. You're there.
No poem. Get back
to work. Thanks.

No comments: