5:37 am

5:37 am

 

5:37 am…the morning is silent,

eerily so that I can hear nothing

louder than I ever have before

Not a bird sings as the sun still sleeps

outside of this four walled solitude

Slowly drinking a cup of coffee,

wondering why I even exist

 

5:42 am…staring into the dark spaces

surrounding my mind like elastic memories

While I write these words

of absolutely no reason,

as if they will heal somehow, take the pain

scatter it upon horizons

that no longer have meaning

 

5:46 am…somehow I enjoy this silence

Seeing my shadow below,

head in hands on the surface of my desk,

painting charcoal pictures of loneliness,

listening to key strokes breaking the quiet,

hoping this faux ink erases the past,

yet I believe nothing can…5:51 am

 

Author's Note

Thank you for reading

Captcha - Maffia...oh well, I never liked my knee caps much anyway.

Reviews

[B-poet]

This is a touching masterpiece Jack, loved the ending as well as the first stanza's second to last line "Slowly drinkinng a cup of coffee, wondering why I exist." I can truly relate to that line of self-worth curiousity. Fabulous work here. You should publish this one indefinitely. Great work again my friend. :)

[Jack...]

Thank you so very much for your kindness. I appreciate your visit.

[BlackRose]

Well done as usual. And like how did it done in this outside the box fashion.

[Jack...]

Thanks so very much my friend.

[s y e]

Ah, this sounds so like me Jack. I think I have a little insomnia working on me lately, can't seem to sleep until I need to get up and go to school.... I hate those nights so much. You seem every minute of every hour on the clock, it's annoying.

Loved this poem though and the picture. Great job as always.

[Jack...]

Thank you so very much Sye. I always enjoy your visits to my world.

[kublakhan27]

Wow,now this one really sounds like it's about me...I get one or two of these nights every week, I had one last night actually (cue despondent yawn). Sometimes the first mouthful of hot coffee is the only thing that feels real under these circumstances...after it goes cold it just blends in with all the other surreal things that go with being awake before that Sun...and yes, if one of these nights is long enough, it does become enjoyable in a backwards way...maybe a sense of security grows from it, I'm not sure, but alas, security and loneliness are mutually exclusive. Very heartfelt and resonant work Jack.

[Jack...]

Thanks so very much my friend. I always appreciate your visits.

[Cassie]

ahaha!!!! 5.51 a.m....still sipping your cup of coffee not realizing you are at the last drop. Nicely done as usual, its been a while am now back.

[Jack...]

Hi there Sunshine. Thanks so very much.

[Lyn Anderson]

I like the way you constructed this piece with the times -- well done.

[Jack...]

Thanks my friend. I appreciate it.

[Traci]

Morning solitude, such a sad, lonely existence. As always, beautiful words, my friend.

[Jack...]

Thank you Traci. It is so nice to see you again.

[Anita Singh]

WOW! Amazing!
"the morning is silent,

eerily so that I can hear nothing

louder than I ever have before" Loved these lines.

It's like the morning is silent but the voices are resonating inside me.

[Jack...]

Thank you so very much for your kindness Annabella. I appreciate you stopping by.

[Mark]

Morning solitude is a favorite time of mine. But it can be a lonely place.

[Jack...]

Yes my friend it can...thanks so very much.

[m.s.early]

terrible isolated solitude. we can be loneliest in our minds. sometimes it's a decision that we don't realize we control. sometimes we vicariously enjoy certain kinds of sadness. if we aren't careful we become addicted to them.

there is a spirit abounding in the universe that is always listening to our heart. if we keep that in mind we are never alone. poetry is a conduit between us and that spirit. The second stanza hints at this. Writing is indeed therapy.

[Jack...]

Thanks so very much my friend. I could sure use some therapy about now.