I’ve mentioned that odd thoughts stroll through my mind and into poems; or I get in a mood and write a quirky poem. Last weekend, as I was falling asleep, the first six or seven lines of the poem below jogged past. Then I couldn’t fall asleep (cue a sigh and throwing up my hands). When I write after being whisked through whimsey it doesn’t always make sense…and yet it does…and I’m not sure which is more worrisome 😉 But sometimes you just have to go with it and have fun 🤡👽🧟♂️
Undead All week long I’m too tired to get up and all weekend long I’m too awake to go to sleep and all the rest of the time I’m half awake or half asleep or in between eether and iither, Eeyore and Igor, a head-hung donkey, a mad-scientist’s slave, both hunching beasts of burden, so on a scale of munching thistles to robbing graves I’m undead
A Wandering Minstrel 