Sunday, December 7, 2014

It




Sleep is innocent.
It runs, hides in the dark,

is easily frightened by radiators,
the drop of a digital clock.

I have access no longer
to the lull of manifold sheep.

Time zones are corrupted
with a single cunning sock.

Night spins uncountable hours
in a game of blindfold;

I hear your voice in my head,
misidentify your face on purpose,

wanting always to be it.



tk/December 2014


Deliciously soporific R.A.D. Stainforth...



19 comments:

  1. The imagery of sleeplessness is so well woven here.. the first line is brilliant.. I always knew it had to do with radiators.

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  2. Good, when only one....what if all would liked to be it....game with open eyes....cool poem...better to have sleep back....

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  3. sometimes I just give up and get up! Tag ....you're it!

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  4. wonderful words.....as one who struggles with sleep herself!!

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  5. "sleep hides in the dark"..just love that line and so true sometimes as I try to get rest. Those radiators can sure make some noise.

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  6. What is that sock doing there? I think I found its mate in the washing machine.
    Innocent sleep does sometimes hide, and when it does, search as we might, it eludes. The ultimate 'it'.

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  7. The sense of abandonment may have created an element of defiance and determination! Great write Tess!

    Hank

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  8. Gahhh. Just when I was getting over my fear of radiators…Damn you, Tess! I like this poem!

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  9. Nicely expressed. You are so true about sleep & its world! She'll rise up from that time-zone!
    Good one :)

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  10. Lovely write.
    And the photo is yellow wallpaper chilling!
    :)

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  11. Yes, that's what she's afraid of, the wallpaper...

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  12. The hideous wallpaper is enough to keep anyone awake.

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  13. Sleep is a metaphor here! Creative indeed! Have a look at my take!

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  14. beautiful piece..."Night spins uncountable hours
    in a game of blindfold;"...love that...!

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  15. Good one. I like the image of sleep and the lack thereof that is the theme of the writing:)

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  16. I do so hate it when sleep hides in the dark and leaves me wide awake, when I should sleep. Fun photo this week, and as usual, tastefully delicious poem by you!

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Inject a few raisins of conversation into the tasteless dough of existence.
― O. Henry (and me)