This unfinished poem will be the death of me.

I missed my post yesterday evening because I was at a funeral. Yikes. I've been meaning to post more often, but I don't want to turn this into one of those blogs made up of nothing but mundane posts about the author's life. Like, I dunno..."Today I ate some cereal I never tried before. I think I liked it. Not too sure. Peace, out."

I, out of desperation, choose to present you with this poem that I began an eternity ago. I warn you that I am a terrible poet, so please try to remember that I'm not trying to pass this off as Poet Laureate material like some writers who clearly aren't strong in poetry do.

****

Night descends like a blanket of lead.

Extinguish the stars. The light is dead.

Now is the time for the things that creep

to arise from their slumber and crawl out of the deep.

****

...and then that's all I got.  I've probably been working on that poem for six months now and that is always as far as I get. Still, it has a nice ring to it. I might throw it in a story as one of those songs that are overheard in the middle of a bar or something.

Though I have no idea what sort of bar would play a song like that, I'll have to admit.