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.
–
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.
–
6 comments:
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.
Adelaide
Adelaide
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.
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.
Warren
long night
I wish I could stop trying
to sleep
insomnia
my body knows
all my tricks
Terrific haiku, senryu - Love them, Bill. Thanks for stopping by.
Warren
insomnia -
every sheep the presage
of another
much love...
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