The Poetry Conundrum part 2: Midnight

I don’t usually post anything about my own goings on, you know…. cos my life is boring. But here I am again, in the poetry conundrum. It’s about midnight, and I sit here, smiling as I type away, my scrambling to random places.


Thoughts dashing this way and that,

How does this happen,

Especially rapid thoughts seem to come mind,


Prodding at every thought, poking it with a mental stick,

Opening a new chapter with every possibility,

Expecting each might spark into a fire,

Trying to cling to every thought and memory, idea, iota, inkling, ink blotting spots on spots on paper and lines of words line my mind,

Rising from the dead of seventeen hours hibernation, and idea starts to dance in my chaotic mind,

Yet nothing seems to be yielded, before it is lost in the black hole, or turns into a dead end,


Come brain, think, remember, where is my notebook, I need the notebook!

Oh how the ideas rapidly rush to be the first to get jotted down, in so much mind traffic that it makes Friday afternoon rush-hours seem like a green light,

Never do I seem to remember each and everyone, and I contemplate for many hours…. hoping that it eventually might come back to me, which it does on occasion, but I don’t keep my hopes high.

Until the time is 12 o’clock and I know that I must either picked the hardest decision…. actually sleeping or scrambling for the chance to write it out; that is before the inevitable point when I say “screw it”, and venture off to sleep…

Now what is it about the Poetry Conundrum that makes this happen? Perhaps you guys have an explanation? Why does it happen now instead of some boring time in the middle of the day when we have paper and are conveniently well rested- *insert myself stopping to actually breathe while talking with my hands moving in many complimentary yet exaggerated fashions.*

Dear me, I have never found something to be an issue of such frustration, that i have been forced to turn to blogging my annoyance, in the manner of a somewhat ironic acrostic poem…. oh…. well….. *awkward discovery face…*

Really though, I never said it would be a good one! I don’t exactly have a lot of experience with ranting in the form of an acrostic poem.

Until now, I haven’t known the concept of creating such a thing….

Me myself and I though, have collectively agreed that this poem was very fun to write, and that we are now going to go off to bed to get some sleep, have a good night!


© Copyright M.C. Scripturus and mcscriptor, 2013, 2014

(Seriously though, who knows the sort of thing I’m talking about? Best ideas at the most inconvenient times. Why sleep, why must you be so needy!?)

Feel free to comment similar experiences down below! Share if you understand!

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