The Morning

Thunder rolls around
the edge
of my consciousness,
announcing a new day
being born.
I am too sleepy
to much care,
the circles under my eyes
growing darker with
each night,
morning no longer mends
what the nightmares tear,
light no longer binds
the dark.
Purpose becomes difficult
to find in a
world where the words
of the drunkard trump
those of the prophet.
and pride and ego come
before reason and love.
I will rise as expected,
though the alternative
seems the better choice.



Filed under Poetry, Poetry - Prompts

10 responses to “The Morning

  1. Wow – a lot of this really resonates with me. Powerful words indeed

  2. Bravo for wonderful wordling: I had difficulty finding any sensible connections with these words, but you have pulled it off superbly.

  3. I’ll say, this is excellent, Mark. And your punctuation is quite outstanding. I know that may sound odd, but I am fool for good punctuation.


  4. Beautifully done. I particularly like morning no longer mends what the nightmares tear.

  5. Powerful, and as Sabra said, I too particularly like morning no long mends what the nightmares tear! This resonates with me. Well done!

  6. Old Egg

    How well you describe the unwelcome morning when mind and body have not yet supped their fill of rest.

  7. Wonderful writing! Loved the end lines!

    doggy tales

  8. magicalmysticalteacher

    Purpose IS sometimes hard to find in this world, and yet we persist in our search, don’t we?

    My Sunday Whirl

  9. A dark outlook, expressed with eloquence.

  10. ‘words of the drunkard trump those of the prophet’ – Wonderful use of the prompt words.

Some of what I write is true, some is fiction; most is merely possibility.

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