Tales of Sleepless Nights

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Tags:
  • Dark Poetry
    • ,
  • Loss
    • ,
  • Angst
    • ,
  • Frustrations Of Life

    Tales of Sleepless Nights

    Darkness thriving on an empty stomach

    Mercilessly begging for more


    Clicking sounds from the ceiling fan, spinning

    Ticking on into the deep corners of the night


    Silence feeding on the blinking eyes

     


    Limbs in perpetual motion under the covers

    Promising a future of comfort given enough time


    Life out side these walls reminds me

    Unceasingly it reminds me in my hour of consciousness


    Mouth dry from the stirring in the air

    Allowing one short breathe after another


    Minutes come and go

    But the hours never show their faces

    Forcefully causing me to await the arrival of a new day


    Temperatures vary with the passing of the moon

    Tossing my senses like a boat at sea


    Menacing bodies of insects inflicting my flesh with bites

    As they feed on every inch of my irritation


    Melodies passing through my eyes

    Bring back old and intentionally forgotten memories


    Meditating on pending decisions

    With a few precise words in prayer


    Epiphanies celebrated in secret


    These are the wonders of the night

    Awake and aware they greet me with open arms

    Seemingly harmless until the next day rears its ugly head

     

    Teasingly fades in and out

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    alexm0193 commented on Tales of Sleepless Nights

    01-25-2010

    i love this poem. everyone who reads this will be able to relate to it because you hit on so many thoughts and images that describe a sleepless night so well. good job!
    Reply to Comment

    normroxursox

    01/25/2010

    Thank you very much! I wrote this over a period of some time in the middle of the night and just wrote down every little thing that was irritating me until I finally had to get up. I'm sure most everyone has been through that.

    A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness. It finds the thought and the thought finds the words.

    Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

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