Too Tired
I’m too tired to write a poem.
So I guess I will flip a coin.
Heads, I will try to knock one out.
Tails, I just kick back without a pout.
Well,—- here I am again.
You can guess what came up then.
Let’s see, something to write about.
I could say I am suffering with gout.
But, that would be a lie.
I’m just not that kind of guy.
I could write about the 50 year reunion.
Not mine, my wife’s recent conclusion.
It was fun but, it wasn’t mine.
I didn’t know many but, had a good time.
Maybe I could write about Mr. Jax.
An imaginary person with a battle axe.
That can get pretty gory though.
Wouldn’t want to ruin the show.
“What the hey?”, you’re thinking now.
My imagination runs wild somehow.
I don’t ‘think’ any of it on purpose.
Sometimes, I have to say “Curse it.”
If you’ve read many poems by me.
You’ll have no trouble trying to see.
To figure out what is happening in my head.
Maybe that’s the wrong thing to say, instead.
I’ll just say “Hang on for the ride.”
“I’m spitting it out faster than the tide.”
I’m too tired to continue on with this.
I hope this one is a hit. Not a miss.————R. W. Johnson—–(2014)