Monday, September 27, 2010

Awakening

Funny how my children's sleeping
Wakes me with a snicker

I slip along the hallway to my
Laptop
Waiting
It for me, and I for it
Hours before the sun will rise

My fingers
Long dormant
Curled into my pillow
Itch to press the keys
To get moving

My mind
Buzzing with dreams
And mischief
Longs to blend them both
Together

While all the world sleeps
And keeps me
Awake.

7 comments:

  1. A writers dilemma -- maybe if we could write while dreaming? so we could get some sleep....beautifully and lyrically written.

    Cheers,
    Joanny

    I joined your sight, thanks for commenting on my blog.

    ReplyDelete
  2. I do my best work as the world (at least the part of it in the eastern time zone) saws logs, so I totally get you there.

    ReplyDelete
  3. The early morning before the dawn the only noise being the slight taping of fingers on letters, the ending gurgle of the coffee pot and the dogs restless their tags clinking as they look for comfort. That is solitude, that is the dream of a poet, to be alone in the dark making light as we guard them who sleep away the best portion of the day.

    ReplyDelete
  4. Joanny: I've often wished for a Timeturner, so that I can write the night away, turn time back, and sleep through it. But if I could choose (and not fall apart crying at the end of the day) I'd choose writing most of the time. It allows me to dream while still awake.

    Eric: I'm in the pacific time zone, but even when I take trips out east, I still get up really early. I like beating the sun up.

    Walking Man: It is the best portion. Yet most people choose to stay up late instead of waking early. Kids are the exception. They know enough to fall asleep in the middle of dinner if they need to, but can get up early and wander around the house like a whisper. Funny what so many unlearn. That's it. I haven't grown up yet!

    ReplyDelete
  5. And then we get up, and totally forget all the creative stuff buzzing in our heads as the workaday sneaks in.

    ReplyDelete
  6. The Mother, I'm with you. Maybe that's why I write the poems, to remind myself that there is something deeper going on around me than my daily obligations indicate.

    Thanks, Jeff!

    ReplyDelete