Linda Studley

Can't Put the Pen Down…

Archive for the tag “sleep”

15 Nov 2015

Dark Thoughts

Sitting in the dark,
dotted with little red, yellow, blue, and green lights
from small appliances, computers, rechargers,
and the digital clock on the stove.
Sitting in the dark,
in the glow of the computer screen.
So, technically, not really in the dark at all.
In the semi-dark, quasi-dark, pseudo-dark;
the dark that’s too dark to do anything
but type but too bright to sleep.
So I sit and I type about the almost dark and wonder
why I’m awake at four in the morning.
Sitting in the dark.

#124

Posted in A New Poem Every Morning #2, Poetry, writing and tagged , , , , | Leave a comment
16 Jul 2015
2 Comments

Dreamy

Dreamy: Giving pleasure or contentment to the mind or senses. (Merriam-Webster Dictionary Definition)

Whoever  defined the word dreamy
never spent a night in my head.
Or watched my dreams go reeling by
in dozens of tangled threads.

A frightening film festival
of scenes not conducive to rest.
Where every night I win the award
for best self-distressed.

The toddler who runs the projector
has attention deficit disorder
and the one in charge of designing the props
is an unrepentant hoarder.

It’s a messy place in there.
Nothing ‘dreamy’ about it.
Maybe one day I’ll have a ‘dreamy’ dream
but I seriously doubt it.

 

#2

Posted in A New Poem Every Morning #2, Poetry and tagged , , , , , , ,
02 Dec 2012

Sir Beeps-a-lot

Sir Beeps-a-lot, Sir Beeps-a-lot,
your grader is a wonder
of brute strength over nature
where she’s got us all snowed under.
I love your marvellous machine
That leaves the avenue so clean.

The graceful arc, the pirouette
as front wheels leave the ground,
your full weight on the blade
makes a loud and scraping sound.
Which invades my REM
at approximately four a.m.

You are so cautious careful
Whenever you reverse
You beep, and beep, and beep, and beep
to warn us to disperse.
But I don’t think you have to dread
‘cause most of us are home in bed.

Don’t get me wrong, I am a fan
of your fine machine
as you drop your blade and scrape away
what Mother Nature leaves.
But next time, Sir, what do you say
to arriving later in the day?

And now you’re gone, the snow’s  piled up
all neatly in a heap
I’ll miss you, dear Sir Beeps-a-lot,
But I will not miss your beep.
And as I tossed, deprived of sleep,
I’m sorry I called you a creep.

#344

Posted in A New Poem Every Morning, Poetry, Writings and tagged , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment
31 Jul 2012
2 Comments

Water Dreams

Streams and streams of water dreams
trickle through my brain it seems
that last night I imbibed far too much tea.
Brooks that babble, waves that crash,
water canteens slosh and splash
and wake me in the night quite urgently.

But not before they inundate
my poor brain with unrelated
images of soggy situations.
And just before the geyser blows
my eyes pop open and I know
the bathroom is my ultimate destination.

Water dreams, oh, water dreams
in glorious variety team
and wreak nocturnal havoc ‘pon my pons
My rem in remnants, my id all irked
I wake with hypnagogic jerk
bathroom bound again, with a yawn.

Three times, four? I can’t recall
how many trips made down the hall,
how many times those dreams awakened me.
Bleary with sleep fragmentation
I swear in weary exasperation
next time I’ll go easy on the tea.

 

#220

Posted in A New Poem Every Morning, Poetry, Writings and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

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