POEM: A Musing Co-Mission — Nein Poems! Owed to Know One

This is nine separate comprising one poem, each and all on the theme of the mercilessly striking in the middle of the night with irrepressible from knows where.

bid me
Higher than I
Was willing to go
Only to in
Form me
Of whys infirm a meant
That I am
All ready
Hear

He slept
Into conversation
With that of
Where I’s are not necessary
Only more acute
And in their wake
Brake loose
Countless dawns

Apprehending
I am
A kept man
In my place
Beyond my own
Yet as if
More than
A game
Playing only
For keeps

In the mettle of the night
has a Lot to say
In that language of
A partner
Worth more than
One’s salt
Never looking back
In a so forward

He said “YES”
To harvest
In the land of nod
Where more are forgotten
Than anyone could ever “no”
Those fated few under
A night’s protection

The strikes
Beyond mirror daze
In the we ours of the night
Where there is know
And never clothing for

My hand rights
And that is mine
Mirrorly follows
Giving
One
A pause
Word
Without sound
Of won hand
Clapping

Amid night rambler
Beyond what is still
Drunk in slurs
Of lucid
Never to be penned
And in will
Be for gotten

The wrest of the night
Is yours
The supined
And you knead not worry
I will take care
Of hour many
Fine appointments

I wrote these nine one night over the course of a bout two hours.  The singular theme of a poet’s helpless relationship with a was not designed by me but a mirror reflection of this relationship.  My futile was to know a veil, and pun in hand, I consider this my formal certification as gloriously disabled.  With the sole of a poet, flat on my back, I have long a go matriculated to the knead to get up and answer the muses booty call.  It is simply the write thing too due!  Sow, a light bulb goes on, and as pen is in hand, what comes is worthy of the papers.  A lass, what may be fodder to some is a parent only too me in sharing presence of what is to gather hours.  May you find yourself a basket-case of like a sickness and a cure to gather.

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