Poem jetty

That time of the night when I think I could write some poetry

lit under a little light

peering into a screen white

I feel like I could come up with a verse

hoping to be inspired by a voice terse

of awake cicadas outside of my window

singing in a sonorous buzz

of monsoon wet humid fuzz

and dew drops that glint and glow

I could write a poem

or words that'd make sense some

or not, for who's to read

except you and you and you alone 

blandly crushed by incoming sleep

here are some lines, some rhymes deep

the deepest part of the shallowest end.

I'm hoping to be inspired

in this drowsy state it just might transpire

a poetic revelation

right behind this slumberous bend

for you see, 

I'm hoping to recreate

that moment of strung out daze

when my head stayed benumbed in a stoned haze 

and each blink was a moment epiphanic

rhymes had rhythms and sonnets had symphony

just being droll a touch

for in that smashed out stupor

I reckon I didn't write much.