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Insomniac’s Morning Reverie

The rooster crows; so ends the night,
and sluggishly I leave my bed.
My sleep? It has become a blight;
the night is long; long nights I dread.
My dogs still snooze, so does my wife;
I pinch myself: YES! I'M ALIVE—

And not in limbo; thank you, gods!

Each morning at the crack of dawn,
before I even think of showers,
I first splash wetness on my lawn,
on shrubs and plants and on my flowers.
Once more I hear the rooster crow
his lusty cock-a-doodle-doo, or so . . . .

My milkman greets me with curt nods.

And if you ask me why I dwell
on trifles in this rambling writing?
If you must know, last night went well:
I slept one hour—THAT WAS exciting!
Let’s hope this day will pass all right
and turn into a restful night . . . .

I give myself the lowest odds.

Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Review Request (Direction): 
What did you think of my title?
How was my language use?
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
Is the internal logic consistent?
Last few words: 
the lines ending with gods, nods, odds, rhyme with each other.
Editing stage: 


You don't sleep much. I get my sleep an hour or two at a time. Wake, sleep, wake sleep all through the night. The pattern goes round and round until my night is day and my day is night. Thank whatever for the History, A&E and Discovery channels; they play the same two or three programs the whole night, so I get to see the whole thing. I got the idea that the gods, nods and odds rhyme, without your pointing it out, but thanks. ~ Geezer.

Honest critique and comments shouldn't hurt.
It's why we are here, to get better at our craft.

Geezer, thanks for the comment.
I'm sorry to read that you, too, are being rejected from Morpheus's arms and condemned to spend your normal sleeping hours in an unnatural state of "wake, sleep . . . ."
I should mention that I have Parkinson's that has thrown a kink into my sleeping pattern. Fortunately, there are the Muses who share my bed--much to the chagrin of my wife, lol.
Thanks again. Jerry

author comment

To go to bed, to lay my head on the pillow and sleep is a luxury, a pleasure, the rarest and most elegant of pleasures.
No one knows, not really. And every single fucking cunting bastard arsehole one of them has advice for you, eh?
After my third arrest I was forced reluctantly to stop punching in the face anyone with advice on insomnia.

This is beautifully constructed, forgive my Aussie accent but I must read it aloud as all poetry should be-

Not just a natural meter but other subtly applied prosodic devices-

The single line rhymes applying cohesion,
the effective semicolonic (I forget the term, it's 2am here) repetition of
the night is long; long nights I dread.

the aural construction of
on shrubs and plants and on my flowers.

the subtle exasperation of
his lusty cock-a-doodle-doo, or so . . . .

and the dying fall of
I give myself the lowest odds.

A gorgeously constructed poem. My sincere apologies but I can find no crit.

What a way to introduce yourself to Neopoet!
I look forward to more of your work and judging from your prosodic erudition your critique on others as well.

A new workshop on the most important element of poetry-
'Rhythm and Meter in Poetry'

Hi Jess;
thanks for the thumbs up, and I agree with you: to pass the test, a poem should be read aloud--whether it is a rhymed and metered or free verse.
And, never take advice from someone who swears by drinking a glass of milk to induce sleep.
It only makes you get out of bed, far too many times, to urinate. And I listened to your recording of my meager contribution. I absolutely enjoyed the read. Great voice, Jeff.
Again, thank you very much for your kind comments and the read.
Jerry Kemp

author comment

Hi Mark;
it's so true about what makes a rhyme smooth and memorable. A forced rhyme rarely achieves the silkiness of one that comes naturally. Seldom will I use "Big" words to suit a rhyme. They only serve to send the reader to the dictionary. Sleeplessness has the advantage that it allows the mind to formulate the scenario for a neat poem, but when I need my sleep--I want to sleep. Mark, I envy you. Thanks for reading and commenting. Jerry

author comment

I think everybody has restless nights when the mind refuses to shut down. This poem displays the plight well. I also have employed the pattern you used in this poem and enjoyed seeing somebody else use it......stan

Hello Stan;
well, my sleep disorder is due to to12 years of Parkinson's. I am a medical wonder in as far as that I still function as well as I do (mentally and physically, and that at the age of 85). And there I thought the pattern I used in this poem was my own invention. Wrong again! lol. Thanks for chiming in; enjoyed reading your comment, Jerry

author comment
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