Sunday, June 12, 2011

Nocturnal Not-Sleepings

Before I was awake
Aware
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!

4 comments:

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

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  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.

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

    Kinda miss it.

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