Ticking Away.
Dawn hangs on September 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: September 3rd, 2017 03:50
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 28
- User favorite of this poem: Accidental Poet.
Offline)
Comments5
Beautiful poem Fay. You make rising to the surface so elegant. ; )
Beautiful write Fay.
My alarm clock is built within me, for as long as I can remember I have been up about 6.00am and if I don't wake until 6.30 I feel that half the day has gone.
Oohh, I never knew September was that eloquent! All that, and before we've even got out of bed. Lovely write Fay.
The transition from dream-world to this world is momentarily confusing to me. It is like trying to remember a role I have undertaken, what scene it is, and what lines I should know as I step on stage. My belief that This is the dream world is reinforced. Your fine poem explores the transition very well, Fay!
I would love to wake up like that every morning! Beautiful, beautiful poem, Fay!
Waking is always a challenge dear Fred and yet when roused there is much to look forward to in the gift of another day. Thank you for the visit and so pleased you liked the read.
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