End of Day

I hosted my first online open mic earlier tonight for Living Poetry. I think it went reasonably well. We had ten readers which is bigger than some in-person open mics I’ve attended. I read Nineteen Crows, Our Nocturne and Tiger King.


Let’s write a tired poem.

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End of Day

The clock is about to roll over
like my Honda’s odometer
and I still haven’t written
tonight’s poem.

Some nights the words flow
like a babbling brook.
On others they’re only found
halfway down a glass of red.

But after a long day at the office,
they’re stuck like the last dregs
of ketchup and I lack the knife
and the stamina to scrape them out.

It’s nearly midnight.
Just post what you got.

 

About Bartholomew Barker

Bartholomew Barker was born and raised in Ohio, studied in Chicago, worked in Connecticut for nearly twenty years before moving to Hillsborough, North Carolina where he makes money as a computer programmer to fund his poetry habit.
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4 Responses to End of Day

  1. JeanMarie says:

    ❤ Good job on this poem. I enjoyed the open Mic too.

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