Walls of night surround me
crowding hard and closing in.
Tonight’s sleep
yet another failed marathon,
alone except for the clocks
whose beats break my silence.
The stage is set, the actors here
but a heart’s reel of film
shows only reruns on a lonely night.
Maddening clocks! All-knowing,
counting out their beats,
each slow as a tear,
loud, yet oddly a whisper.
I’m sorry to intrude,
yet I'm awed by their blending
of my insomniac sadness
into their nightly concerts.
The ticking, tocking,
at once both friend and foe.
No way to forget,
yet so afraid I might,
and feeling quite alone.
Hi CJ, Been here and done this (and still doing it) . It's just a stage I suppose and gives me the time to think quietly and alone about new ideas. Best wishes.
CJ This is so beautifull put together. I read it out loud a few times (My girlfriend asked me who I was talking to) and would love to hear a reading of it because, now and again you feel that a voice can add so much to the words. Much love Denis Joe
Thank you, Herbert, for reading my poem and for your wonderfully witty comments... oh, and I do like your second idea very much (wink) . Hugs, CJ
A good poem (of course) and I wonder if a glass of unhomogenised, unpasteurised milk might help? Or, there was something else that makes for restful sleep..... H
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I'm not an insomniac, C.J., but I'm sure you described the experuience. Well done. Raynette