Poem of the Day

6 Comments

Ode Rage

I push my pen around the page,

it pushes back and sneers.

When I incur a paper cut –

I cry, the paper jeers.

 

A face appears upon the page –

a horrid, mocking troll.

Now my chair collapses

and I’m truly on a roll.

 

My pen falls down beside me.

I’m sure I hear it speak.

It mutters, ‘Feelin’ lucky, punk?’

I answer, ‘Feelin’ weak’.

 

Dead lines are sneaking up on me,

like zombies, clawed extended.

My brain is full of jellybeans –

the jar has been upended.

 

My Muse is out to get me

and I’m filled with angst and fear.

I send regards from Writer’s Hell,

be thankful you’re not here.

Bill Condon
  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #5

Prompt5

 

Advertisements

6 thoughts on “Poem of the Day

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s