Week 212 (May 5-12). Poems. Topic: Insomnia.

[M]

You have until May 12 to post a poem, and May 13-14 we’ll vote for which one we thought was best.

Please post directly into the topic and not a link. Please don’t use a poem previously used in this group.

Your poem can be any length.

This week’s topic is: Insomnia.

The rules are pretty loose. You can write a poem about anything that has to do with the topic. I do not care, but the poem you post must relate to the topic somehow.

Have fun!

Thank you to Martin for the topic!

[Greg]

—Insomnia

Insomnia
You’re like my cocaine
Insomnia
You cause all my pain

Wake up in night sweats
From the secrets I’ve kept
Somewhere between
Alertness and dreams
There you lurk
Trying to have the final word

Insomnia
Who do I blame?
Insomnia
It’s too much to take

I’d love to just walk
But you continue to stalk
There in my nightmares
Is your condescending stare
I won’t be your victim
But there’s no other description

Insomnia
I’m awake
Insomnia
I’m your slave

Water in my face
I still can’t escape
Tick tock, tick tock
Watch the hands of the clock
Take me under
Put asunder

Insomnia
I am maimed
Insomnia
What can I regain?

[[deleted user]]

Here is my poetry submission for the topic: Insomnia.
Feedback is ALWAYS welcome! **Based on actual events.

LIFE'S MAZE by Melissa Andres

Menopause and insomnia
Seem to go hand in hand
Happens to most women
All throughout the land.

I am quite irritable
Early the next a.m.
I feel like a big white cow
When I used to be so slim.

Exercise should help, they say.
But I have no motivation
Just wanna find my comfy couch
And have a snack vacation!

My husband asks why I perspire
When I'm only sitting still
The hot flashes and night sweats
Begin of their own free will!

He has been oh so sweet
Through this whole darn thing
Living with limited affection
And certainly no ring-a-ding!

There are many crazy symptoms
When you become a "mature woman"
And forgetfulness, for me,
Is sometimes a real tough one.

My brain seems so fuzzy
I'm always in a daze
As my hormones skip and dance
Toward the end of this life's maze.

But I am getting through it
By trying my very best.
Now what was I saying again?
This mature woman needs to rest!

[Ryan]

A Death in the Night

Awake!
The cotton python
twists, stealing my sleep
as venom
poisons the night.
A wasteland,
unending, stretches
out behind time’s
neon eyes; blinking
and infernal.

Cat o’ nine tails
whips words
into blood,
flaying reason
from thought.

Your strained voice
writhing on digital wings
closes the door,
grating
like rusty hinges.
Interference lies thick
between city and shore.
In the space
of a flagfall, my tongue
loses we, relearns I.

~ R ~

any feedback welcome

[Nicky]

Ryan wrote: "A Death in the Night

Well, this is a little different from your usual style. I like it, 'time's neon eyes...' is very nice as is 'your strained voice writhing...' and 'inference lies thick'. The ending is intriguing.

[Ryan]

Thanks, Nicky. I think 'intriguing' is a good thing. Maybe? ;)

[[deleted user]]

Ryan wrote: "A Death in the Night

Awake!
The cotton python
twists, stealing my sleep
as venom
poisons the night.
A wasteland,
unending, stretches
out behind time’s
neon eyes; blinking
and infernal.

Cat o’ nin..."

Hi Ryan. Neon eyes - I felt cantankerous about the word. The word neon seemed flat, unexpressive. I looked the word up, and learned there is a song by an Austin band called Neon eyes; a cross piece. I learned the color was not bright lime green as I had imagined. Ha, but red-orange~. I red about a snake with orange eyes this morning. I am most excited to tell you about Cross Talk. A word I just found. Radio; Telephony Interference in one channel or another or others.

[[deleted user]]

©2014 Dream Catchers or Insomnia Breams

I break away from the shores of my bed;
The coast artillery madden to rest.
Rebarbative grotto of closed eyes shed

Neither tears nor praise for the dark that bled
Into the ready rooms where shadows wrest
prospects 'yond lucid sanctuaries; saccades –

of eyes like jumping beans putting off slumber; dead
regiments; shine of brigandine invests
the swells of insomnia when oppressed. (or when floating - stress. --)

Rankling with the sunrise I see a quest
To move beyond shadows that loom ahead
as a lost cause; I could lose my head.

A petty officer, machinist mate
On the salt of white sheets; white lead
In my war chest tinkers with Engines of sleep -
Unblessed. This warm bread of paper,
attests to hydrofoils on paper ships -
efflux of morning light.

[Ryan]

Cat! I remember crosstalk occurring often in the phones when I was young. Haven't heard it for years. I never knew that was the word. I think I may replace 'interference' with 'cross talk' next edit, I love it and it is more accurate for what I am trying to say. Thanks!

With 'time's neon eyes' I was referring to the two blinking, neon dots between the numbers of the digital clock projected onto my ceiling. I guess LED is more accurate but I like neon more. Sorry you found it cantankerous ;o)

I'm looking forward to sitting down to your poem and all the others shortly.

[[deleted user]]

Ryan wrote: "Cat! I remember crosstalk occurring often in the phones when I was young. Haven't heard it for years. I never knew that was the word. I think I may replace 'interference' with 'cross talk' next edi..."
You are welcome! I used "neon" for my color Orange Poem. :) I am glad we could help each other. Your poem reminded me of Marianne Moore, or Ted Hughes's animal poems. Have a good day~ :)

[Ryan]

Hi, Greg. I like the pace of your poem, it feels almost like a song to me. I think the short, clipped writing style works well to create that dreaded feeling of lying there, tossing and turning, watching the seconds pass.

[Ryan]

Such fascinating images, Cat. I love the military undercurrent flowing through your poem and the feel it gives. This one reminds me a lot of my favorite Australian poet, Kenneth Slessor. Have a read of 'Five Bells' if you get a chance. I really enjoyed your jumping bean eyes and the swells of insomnia. Your poem took me to that strange in-between that isn't quite awake and not yet asleep; a grey wilderness of half-dreams and brontide.

[Nicky]

Hi, here's my poem, I'm not sure it's finished and I don't really have a title but if I don't put it in now I'll miss the deadline again so here goes....

B-Theory at 2am

The endless blanket of night
spreads across an eternity of darkness.
Space and Time unfolding,
stippled by sequinned light.
as there are moments
of exquisite joy, so fleeting,
that they leave behind a sublime bereavement
in their passing,
so there are those
of such empty despair
that time passes as if it exists
only outside the vacuum of our own souls.
Regardless of these celestial forces,
the clock’s scarlet luminescence
blares it’s steady message
across the wall;
crawling ever closer
to the coming dawn.


Nicky

As ever all comments are greatly appreciated

[Ryan]

Hi, Nicky. Great poem! I actually really like the title you've gone with. The first part works well to create a feeling of being small and alone. I like the 'moments of exquisite joy, so fleeting' very much. I love the way you close with the clock's steady message and dawn's approach. It left me with a sense of calm. Not quite hope, but a sense of the real. Really nice writing :)

[Nicky]

Ryan wrote: "Hi, Nicky. Great poem! I actually really like the title you've gone with. The first part works well to create a feeling of being small and alone. I like the 'moments of exquisite joy, so fleetin..."

Thanks Ryan - I nearly changed the clock after I read yours but I couldn't think of what else I could replace it with! Glad you liked the title - I wondered if it was a bit too weird!