Sunday, June 12, 2011

Nocturnal Not-Sleepings

Before I was awake
I killed a bug that wasn't there
And brushed my leg
Along the sand
Rubbing dirt with outstretched hand
I heard the mower
Someone snoring--
No, more like a pig exploring--
Felt the poke
Of knees, cold toes
And coughing, snorting from a nose

I rubbed my eyes with gritty fists
Rubbed out the dreams
Unfogged the mists
And rose from bed a little sad
No dreams, no rest
The night I had
Was no more restful
Than a Zumba class
But my fatigues, like hours, shall pass.

Kudos to Darrell B. Nelson at Project Savior for unintentionally giving me the third line of the poem. I hope all of you slept better than I have lately. This waking up between 3 and 5 every morning is starting to wear on me. If only I can figure out why... or at least make myself get to bed by 9. I did finish my Zumba instruction training, though, and that means I am now a certified instructor... now to get my whole class routines together, and start teaching!


  1. I'm having problems sleeping properly too. Your piece perfectly describes how I'm feeling at the moment. Great piece.

  2. Between 2-3 AM is the time to get up rise with the day and let the poetry flow. But probably not so much for a novelist eh? All I can suggest is when you feel it, take a nap. Then it's like you have made two days from one.

  3. Hey, I vaguely remember sleep. Feels good, right?

    Kinda miss it.