Sweet Stupor.
Dawn hangs on November trees, wake slithers
forward into sleep's acres,
turns shade to tailgates of light over which rays
snipe at quiescence
before sunrise leaps in to move bleary dreamers
like me to bright-eyed doers.
Day breaks to bathe passive sight in forewarning
as blind patches precede
flashes of conscious surrender to oust inertia and
its sweet stupor,
dark casts veils around seeing but breath catches
on when still becomes movement.
Ears mistake sleepy whispers for proactive reality
when shaken sense rouses
to feel Heaven's infinity ticking away rested hours
making the richer
seconds remaining for flight's drowsy treasure as
night hooks day to its use.
"Time to get up Dreamyhead" I suggest to myself
but please let the alarm clock
try waking me
~ ~ ~ softly. ~ ~ ~
-
Author:
Fay Slimm. (
Offline) - Published: November 10th, 2021 03:11
- Comment from author about the poem: A slightly tweaked second viewing of how I often wake - hope your enjoy
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 38
- Users favorite of this poem: dusk arising, Doggerel Dave
Offline)
Comments6
Oh yes... empathy. How I miss my days of purpose when to rise promptly was important and rewarding. A regular 6.30 riser in my days of work now finds my turning a blind eye to the day and resting/rotting away kidding myself I'm healing. Though that has served to utterly confuse my body clock such that i have been up all night and shall probably retreat to sleep later this afternoon.
Your poem demonstrates your ability to charm pictures into your readers mindseye with a cosy warmth of a romantic reality. Such that take my vision to the simpler days of childhood and the relaxation of stories read aloud by practiced tongues.
Into my favourites.
Sleep can be robbed of needed rest-time to many and for all sorts of reasons Dusk but remembering past days when it left us refreshed has to be a form of healing so keep doing just that my dear friend - wishing your breathing better real soon and thanking you too for adding this little piece to your list for reading again - -
Wonderful words Fay, coming slowly into the new wonderful day is dreamlike.
Andy
I agree Andy - rousing to feel able to tackle what day brings is good - -wishing you a great day tomorrow after a good nights sleep.
'Time to get up' - oh the lethargic response which isn't me, but is - it takes breakfast plus an hour to transform from a 'bleary dreamer' to something close to human.
I relate to your rich poetry completely, Fay.
Know that feeling Dave - especially when cold drizzle makes the duvet seem more cosy - -- thanking you muchly for reading my take on Sweet Stupor.
Alarm clocks should come with a health warning, waking you up for no reason but work. Always wondered why I woke up at the weekend refreshed, strange.
Oh I do agree Paul - - alarm clocks should be quiet and instead of blasting loud bells atya they should play rock-n-roll to get the limbs moving while still in bed - well - maybe ....... but thanks a load for dropping by for a read of Sweet Stupor.
What a wonderful poetry describing the mornings of winter
The season so well staged
And I truly resonate with these lines -
"Time to get up Dreamyhead" I suggest to myself
but please let the alarm clock
try waking me
Many thanks for your visit to read Sweet Stupor my friend and so pleased you enjoyed my take on awaking in winter mornings.
Been there & done that time and time again .. ahhh but never so poetically my very dear friend ..................... x
Thank you mon ami - - Feels good dun it when eventually stupor's flight fades and we face a new day.........x
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