Friday, January 20, 2012

The Old Familiar

In the night, in the darkness,
the old familiar steals around.
Emerging from corners of my room,
from the stillness and shadows
is a sad repository of memories
I can count on always to cheat
me of comfort and sweet sleep.



Adelaide said...

Hi Warren,

I just left a note on my blog for you. Apparently, I can now leave comments on your blog. I haven't been ablt to do so for about a week.

This latest poem: Being a sufferer of insomnia,like my father was, I know the demons that come when one can't sleep. Play solitaire and have a glass of hot milk. It helps.



Magyar said...

each tick
calls to a ghost
memories of each tock
jam the works of my sleep and ease
too tight

__We wind our own "clock-spring" too tightly... often. This, then, a tension beyond which we cannot escape. We pay 'interest' to that sad 'bank' of memories.

Warren said...

Hi Adelaide - I guess I got things squared away - musta been because I changed my blog template. Thankfully insomnia for me is infrequent, but I do seem to wake way too early and always about the same time. Must have trained myself to wake at the appointed hour. Thanks for stopping by!


Hi Mag - Yep, it's tough to escape the memories - Love your poem, especially the first two lines. Thanks for your read and your comments.


Bill said...

long night
I wish I could stop trying
to sleep

my body knows
all my tricks

Warren said...

Terrific haiku, senryu - Love them, Bill. Thanks for stopping by.


Gillena Cox said...

insomnia -
every sheep the presage
of another

much love...