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David A. Schwinghammer
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Member Since: Dec, 2007

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Poetry
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Recent poems by David A. Schwinghammer
Ode to Neve Campbell
Jacks or Better 101
Never My Love
           >> View all 4
3 O'Clock
by David A. Schwinghammer
Friday, December 21, 2007
Not rated by the Author.

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An insomniac suffers through the night.


3 O'clock

The lights go out in my dream.
And I lie there awake in the dark.
3:15 blinks red on the orange
crate next to my bed.
A mouse skitters across the floor;
the house groans.
Hot milk scalds; sheep bleat;
their sheep voices
itching and chafing.
Headlights slice the darkness; a
night stalker in search
of lemon chicken. I'm hongry!
I conjure up my barber's
soft, gentle hands.
I pay her extra.
Like a schoolboy, I rehearse
the presidents: Washington,
Adams, Jefferson, Madison, Monroe.
No, not Marilyn.
The red-eyed clock flashes 3:25.
Maybe some music: The Artist
ululating "Purple Rain;" John
Lennon imagining life without Paul.
A spector looms up out of the night
in come-stained boxers: my ambition,
dragging chains like Marley's ghost.
The blood-shot numerals drip 3:35!

Mystery Writer


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Reviewed by randy smith 2/25/2009
David, it is 4:os, i got up at 2:30. I think the rooster woke me up.
but that is ok. i just worked on a poem. why can't you just turn the
clock around, and go back to sleep? i'll bet you spilled the hot milk, when you saw marley's ghost. enjoyed the poem. randy


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