Join the Neopoet online poetry workshop and community to improve as a writer, meet fellow poets, and showcase your work. Sign up, submit your poetry, and get started.

On becoming a night owl...,

no matter whether or not ya give a hoot

especially after feeling super charged
watching the second night of
Democratic National Convention conclave
ushering a hint of "Liberté, Egalité, Fraternité.

Men and women are born and remain free and equal in rights. Social distinctions may be founded only upon the common good.

Article 1 of the Declaration of the Rights of Man and of the Citizen (‘Déclaration des Droits de l’Homme et du Citoyen’)

Yours truly (a poker face)
exceptionally shy person
as a little boy who maintained an
inscrutable impassive expression
that hid my true feelings
similar to an adept card "Sharp" and "shark"
born this way nocturnal chronotype.

I dusk cover tenebrous dark shadows
creeping closer along the edge of night
punctuating the outer limits
of the twilight zone,
where something mist tickle
and magical happens
after the stroke of midnight
during the wee hours of a dawning day.

When morning hath broken
tis time to prepare tea for the tillerman
fifty plus shades of gray matter
in mine noggin o' mine feels askew
eyes wanna remain shut tight
add teared with super glue
bookmarking, dawning, and foisting
wispy tendrils o' daylight curlicue
wing analogous to fragrant
aroma of barbecue

said quotidian wake up calls
could not gently assuage, bestir,
boot cannot command.com, i.o.sys,
nor msdos.sys me
to arouse yours truly anew
without fail generated
abort, retry, and fail
thus deadened to
world wide web, I continued
to remain dead,

albeit "FAKE" robbed zombie,
this inability to evince being
bright eyed and bushy tailed
not always true
cuz, I remember myself as
precious, hilarious, rambunctious... kid shew
wing vital signs of life easily
confused for screeching bat that flew
out the portals of Hellenistic Hades
wolfing down breakfast of champions,

cereal, and then bidding cheery adieu
to mother (during her
prime mate ting years)
dashing off (with two
twisted sisters in tow)
to board school bus,
while said vehicle still in moe
shun, bobbing up and down,
(no app pell Le Cajun needed)
excited to mingle amidst peers,

especially Joe King
even when afflicted with Dengue
Fever, a slight setback
eagerly awaiting new
learning would ensue
maintaining enthusiastic countenance
never showing moue
handy dandy dee moody blue
affectation, yet buzzfeeding thru
one grade after another with flying colors

well..., not quite
straight exemplary A's, B's, nor C's
mine doting parents never made overissue
regarding grades (mine hew
wing, trending Xing past
beginning of ABC – alphabet)
nonetheless promoted,
cuz momma and poppa did eschew
the punishing impact,
wrought courtesy repeated grade

thus hopping, skipping,
and jumping kangaroo
simultaneously reed dully
playing invisible didgeridoo
until BAM, arising chipper as a lark
became futile effort this yahoo
suddenly feeling hijacked,
lowjacked, whacked... numbskull
metaphorically within by bamboo,
nope remaining like stoned temple pilot

doggone catatonic dunderhead screw
loose wooden demeanor,
when at some juncture switcheroo
inside this body dielectric fleshy hue
man, whereby he dozed off
until...four after midnight, (or thereabouts)
invariably entranced by practitioner of voodoo
hok kood also tame a shrew
wild horses couldn't drag me out of bed
(been there... done that) even a slew

of feral ponies quasi native -
all muscle and sinew
to Chincoteague, and/
or Assateague Islands,
thus resigned myself maximizing energy
particularly after using water loo
when hunger pains drove acute
ability with absolute zero effort
yes believe me you
such hyperawareness came to rescue
writer's block - whew!

Style / type: 
Free verse
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?
How does this theme appeal to you?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?
Is the internal logic consistent?
Editing stage: 
Content level: 
Not Explicit Content
Opt-in: Neopoet AI will critique your poem.

Comments

The below is a computer-generated response from Neo, Neopoet's computer artificial intelligence:

It is not feasible to offer feedback.

Please send feedback about Neo (our computer generated critique system) to https://www.neopoet.com/contact

to the metaphorical allusions of titles and names of musical groups: [bands]... I was transfixed at the mention of so many groups from my past addictions. Nicely done sir. ~ Geez.
.

There is value to commenting and critique, tell us how you feel about our work.
This must be the place, 'cause there ain't no place like this place anywhere near this place.

(c) Neopoet.com. No copyright is claimed by Neopoet to original member content.