A poem I wrote about the bitter frustrations and throes of sleepless nights. Read & Review |
Insomnia By D.J. Strokes 25 Black shadows dance enthusiastically across an illuminated wall Covers are flung restlessly in a crumpled heap A shifting mass rolls over violently in torment It has begun. First, the eyes resist the beckoning call to open They know what bitter fate awaits them It does not, it will not! Yet, like a struggling door flap, it gives in The body moves ever so slightly, fearing the loss of rest All sleep, all the weight of slumber is gone Thwarted, it must awaken But, wait! The world says it is not yet time. A peculiar dark object nesting on the floor flashes a startling red “Three-twenty AM”, it harkens. “Time for bed and rest in the wee hours of the morning!” The body cannot comply The mass…the person…the creature of the night... awakens Groaning in agony, they curse their predicament Slumber is needed and desired, yet slumber will not come “Fight.” It says. “Fight it.” Use the chief to fight and conquer the tribe! The tribe wins. A shameful defeat means undeserved amusement. It is not the time. A white device must satisfy the ears The magical world of a novel must satisfy the brain However, the body, reveling in the strange world of night, cannot be appeased. Hours pass Beyond the battlefield of struggle, the sun arises Bursting in a chromatic splendor, she relays her ancient message “A new day is breaking” The body hears the call Letting down his arms, he can finally surrender He must. He has a future duty to perform. The sleep, the weight of slumber returns The eyes, glad for passivity once again, droops Covers are grabbed mercilessly for comfort Shadows vanquish by the light of day The mass…the person…the tired fellow... Sleeps. |