I am eating chocolate at two in the morning,
waiting for an idea to come into my mind
with my feet freezing; the rest of me warm
I am half asleep in this wooden chair
an ancient heir loom that I sit at each evening
I front of my computer reading all the blogs
that have come through that day and typing
my blog for the day.
It bring me joy, both to read and write the blog,
but makes sure I only get a few hours of sleep each day.
These late night sittings seem to be quite fruitful for
my imagination, with many metaphors painting the stories
and scenes that make up most of my poetry.
At this time of night The dark closes in round one
concentrating on the sights, smells and stories of the day,
of how we have mistreated the word and what
a plight it and we are in, and how we mistreat each other,
then there is music which plays such a big part in my life,
and the use of titles and words from songs that I know,
For tonight no ideas are coming, though the words
are accumulating into a poem about writing
a poem at 2 am in the morning,
and what it means to me.