An Eerie Game Poem by Ernestine Northover
An Eerie Game
Why is it that one's mind can be all confusion,
With senses reeling in a blurred illusion,
One's thinking, cotton wool,
They're thinking, 'what a fool',
Perhaps it's all a paranoid delusion.
Bewildered thoughts shoot off in all directions,
Goodness knows who's still in one's affections,
With forgetting just one name,
It's like playing an eerie game,
So hard to try and work out the connections.
So where can one find answers to this jumble,
This feeling that one's head's about to crumble,
One needs a fast solution,
To get rid of such pollution,
And save one from a very nasty tumble.
Maybe a good night's sleep might do the trick,
Then one could wake up feeling fantastic,
One's thinking would appear
To be absolutely clear,
And one's brain would end up organized and slick.
© Ernestine Northover
An excellent rhyming piece Ernestine. It flows along making it's points with clarity and certainly excellent observation.a ten most definitely. Best wishes from Fay Slimm.
Yes I know where you are coming from here! I think we could all do with some extra sleep. I liked the a, a, b, b, a structure too. Andrew x
A good nights rest is just what the doctor ordered much of the time Ernestine. I think sometimes we just need those batteries recharged. Very nice. Sincerely, Mary
Yesssss, sometimes our brains/hormones/glands/very cellular structure betray the heck out of us; too right! And sometimes, it's just a matter of getting some good nights of sleep. You've spoken for many here, Ernestine! And very well, too. Esther : ]
I don't expect my mind to be slick anytime soon, but it is something to hope for! !
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/26/2024 7:17:11 PM # 1.0.0.1119
The sorting office has been working overtime again, and yet, all seems in order here Very well spoken Ernestine Thankyou for sharing this Love duncan X