This morning, I was sleepy at work. Because I was sleepy, I wrote a “poem” (I use the term loosely) in an effort to wake up. This was the result.
A Poem for a Pleasant Summer Morning
Sleepy is little Cory, sitting at his comp;
The tea he just drank is giving him no pomp.
The pleasant mint flavor did nothing to awake
This poor and lazy boy, in need of a good shake.
“Wake up,” he tells himself. “Awaken! Do your work!”
To no avail, he sinks deeper into dark sleep-murk.
He tries to write a poem, to turn his brain back on;
It’s going well, when suddenly, a lit…………..
I think I’m going to self-publish a book of my own poetry. I’ll call it A Squirrel Among Lions: The Poetry of Cory Hershberger. I mean, if I can keep my rhyme scheme so beautifully intact and my meter so inspired all the time, how can I not succeed? I smell a new career in my future, and it smells like overblown self-worth and misguided aspirations with hints of vanilla and citrus.