bardon08

**I am working on honing and polishing this poem as a potential entry in a contest**



I moaning drag
Myself from bed;
My alarm-clock's nag
Could wake the dead.
The sun will rise,
But not right now.
I squint my eyes,
And eat my chow.
I then proceed
To climb the stairs.
I groaning knead
My eyes and stare
Upon the visage in the glass;
If looks could kill,
I'd breathe my last.

__________________
Mew.
Purr.
Be happy.

Pete_C

The idea is good, the execution comes across as less than 100 per cent. I'm not sure what this lacks - probably imagery, a bit of reality, some richness of tone – but it lacks something.