Moonrise in a ditch
An itch by a bramble
I am impelled to turn back
But onward
I ramble

Conscious of the ocean
I rest on wild grass
I am impelled to simply listen
But my awareness
is sparse

Creatures steal
I feel the elements fuse
I am impelled to become the darkness
I have lost my senses
to booze

Moonrise in a ditch
In which I curl up and sleep
I was impelled to get home
But I have collapsed
in a heap

The activity that led to this poem: Grab the closest book. Go to page 29. Write down 10 words that catch your eye. Use as many as you can in a poem.