Poem: Broken Pieces

I particularly like this poem, because it frames a truth that many writers may find common.

Broken Pieces

Sleeping in broken pieces,
    the rusted wreckage
    of an unmade night,
    where chunks of verse
    break loose
    and slide to surface
    like bubbles
    from the bottom of a spoon

Something meant to be said
    and I’ve no idea
    by whom
An insistence of words,
    treading my dreamy water,
    surfacing, rolling over
    to clear my mind
    only for a troubled moment

Pulling on a robe, I turn on lights,
    give up and give in
    to scraps made meaningless
    by my awakening
A search among head-stones
    of tilted metaphor,
    knowing there is something
    here that is not mine

What brought me wide awake,
    pestering a dozen times
    lingers, hidden
    and forces me to write in circles,
    waiting it out,
    unable to sleep until
    what is not me
    finally shows its face
Poetry Collection: Broken Pieces
This poem is included in
Jim Freeman's
poetry collection
available here in print
or as an e-Book
in your favorite formats.