It’s five minutes to six am,
I have been receiving messages,
Then writing, I finished one poem,
At four fifteen, another at five-fifty am,
I’m tired, thinking of bed, with,
Twenty years, of experience, I have to,
Stay with the flow, it’s exciting,
When different thoughts, visit my head.
I have to catch them when they appear,
In my mind, without notes, or writing,
The subject can vanish, what a bind,
Never written, or said, always take time,
Listen to those voices in your mind.
The Original: Tom Maxwell © 1/14/2022 AD
6:02 am

It was January, twenty - four, in the year 2019,
I was hurting from an infected, tooth, it was 2:00,
In the morning, I saw myself in A dream.
My image was standing, in the corner,
Looking about, 30 years younger,
In clothes, I use to wear, I could not believe,
I had to get up, and walk over there,
I was not afraid or scared, more curious,
Excitement, flowing in the air.
I remember, saying you are me, I reached,
To shake hands, only A blank face,
A motionless, body to see, The sound, of a vacuum,
Distracted me, I thought, it was early, for the maid,  
What could this sound be, I saw an image of my maid,
With her glasses, hanging, down from her head,
Then I woke from my sleep, I was lying in bed.
Was the infection, that bad, I was about to fall,
Then my subconscious, said, not your time,
Then gave me a wake-up call
The Original: Tom Maxwell © 12/10/ 2021 AD 7:00 AM