Sleep slides from brown eyes
Strawberry dreams sweet arrive
Sleep apnea dies
Categories:
apnea, art, death, dream, poetry,
Form: Senryu
Dreaming in pieces I awakened
to night terrors again my memory
gazing into yesterday my broken
beautiful brain signals sleep my senses
aroused by sullen matter keeping me
from sleep tossing turning peeking
into the darkness sound removed
gestures dance across the room
an yet by day I daze taking
ten minute naps of dream state
rem sleep over come by sudden
nightmares falling into deep sleep
on the bus stop on a plane at work
at school in church even short visits
to doctors office daytime sleep apnea
is what it's called heart racing panic
anxiety where am I uncontrollably
drifting off to sleep all day while
nighttime I sleep awake dancing
with the galaxy trying to sleep rest
repeating this cycle daily oddly
losing my balance legs folding
right under me falling to the ground
like falling off a cliff cataplexy with
a tinge of vertigo no cure you know
brain injury residue of course
medications are added to simply
keep me awake all day allowing
me to rest quietly at night dream state
dreaming in pieces dreaming awake
Categories:
apnea, allah, literature,
Form: Fibonacci
Death comes close in the night
when shadows grow and sleep envelopes, relaxing guards
who snore slumped in corners
their spears and shields useless on the ground,
their dinner crumbs of cheese and bread
just laying there for the rats to nibble.
Amid the sleepers and nibblers Death glides
like a mist; oppressive and still, and dead
leaving a taste, a scent, an air of such an otherness.
The rats scurry off
and the sleepers shift within their dreams
caught, held and slowly suffocated
till the last breath of Life is gone...
Then what does Death do?
The old shapeshifter wakes
and puts on the face of day.
(first published in my 4th book of poems BEGINNER'S MIND, 2019)
Categories:
apnea, anxiety, death, dream, sleep,
Form: Free verse
Diving deep in the pond of the sub-consciousness
I die everything night, you die every night too
This is our way of rejuvenating the body
This may sound crazy, eerily or even spooky,
However, this is absolutely or definitely true
Our body makes a special trip to correct the mess
Which takes place from a certain time to the other
We die every night to pay a visit to another crater.
We die every night, if we're blessed, fortunate or lucky
We return to our natural living state, feeling rested
God in his divine and genial way created us that way
That's a given, we have no alternative; no other way
To change things. Sleep deep tonight, die slowly and lightly
Hoping that we'll wake-up the next hours alive and resuscitated.
Drowning in a slow sleep is a gift, die a little tonight
God will not keep us. This is wonderful; this is out of sight.
Hebert Logerie Friday, August 26, 2016
Categories:
apnea, beauty, body, death, mystery,
Form: Rhyme
I love the sound of the name Dream Machine,
It sounds like a Harley all painted and mean,
And ridden by bikers who are all dressed in leather,
Who ride around proudly in sunshiny weather.
But I doubt that a motor bike’s what you are getting,
To take one in bed would cause anguish and sweating,
And in truth it wouldn’t help with your sleeping at all
In fact the ambulance might get a call,
So I have to conclude that the name is misleading,
In fact the machine simply helps with your breathing
Categories:
apnea, humor, humorous, nonsense, sleep,
Form: Rhyme
To understand this unsolved mystery,
transcends ability to grasp its scope,
involving more than simple inquiry
of mental test or scientific grope.
Most nights you are a force I can't resist,
when day's fatigue exceeds what one can bear,
like being stuck in fog or hazy mist,
where only you can rescue and repair.
Infrequently you hesitate, elude,
withholding needed dormancy and rest,
perhaps because of apnea or mood,
ignoring me and leaving me distressed.
Regardless of conditions, day or night,
your salve keeps my circadian aright.
Categories:
apnea, sleep,
Form: Sonnet
Battling at the thought’s end. Ruined cities.
The last survivors were helped to escape
together with their unborn children.
Eyes tossing nervously. Fears floating on schizophrenic reality.
A ghost passed by resembling her,
yet it is not possible she survived of the massacre –
she risked her life,
bet our happiness.
Memories, naked, spring from the soul’s catacombs
to remind us the youth’s past.
We chose the way we wanted to lose,
the defeat hurts less.
Empty chairs looking at the sunset
like our blood was never spilled in this battleground.
Swinging between the fear and the sky
having the apnea capturing my sorrow.
Categories:
apnea, confidence, conflict, dark, death,
Form: Free verse
The sleep I desire
is for resting of the mind.
The sleep I desire
will happen when I am tire.
The sleep I desire is now.
______________________|
For Amy Green Critter Tanka Contest
April 11, 2014
Categories:
apnea, anti bullying, desire, education,
Form: Tanka
Segregated solitude
misfires synaptic connections,
and I meander around spectre conversations
in autistim-like nightmares,
wondering if I can learn your language.
Memories are like ice,
reducing every day until only a puddle remains,
a mote of déjà vu, but no substance,
just damp resonance of a decaying thought.
I fight amnesia
without knowing the battle plans,
straining to hold that piece of land;
that piece of me.
Night’s siren calls,
lulling me to beguiling sleep,
where dreams are only darkness
and tomorrow erases today.
Categories:
apnea, fear, life,
Form: Free verse
I could hardly breathe,
death was in the making.
As the in and out slowed to out,
expelling a long slow breath,
I was ready for what was to come.
In the far distance something familiar,
more of a feeling than a memory.
Enough awake now,
I knew it was a bathroom call.
As I stumbled to that little room,
all I could think of was how good
it was going to be to get back to sleep.
I really don’t recall getting back in bed.
If I could only get back to sleep---------.
People in the room, muffled voices.
“You say you just woke up
and found him this way,” “Yes” I heard her say.
“Must have been a heart attack”, a strange voice.
But I’m not dead, I’m not dead” I tried to scream.
Yet, I could not move at all.
In the far distance something familiar,
I was holding my breath, which I let out
in a long, long sigh of relief--------------,
as the alarm clock came into full being.
© Jul 18 2010 For Nikko’s “twist and shock” contest
Categories:
apnea, confusion
Form: Free verse
Lay to rest,
Thy weary head,
However the eyes close,
The breathing shall cease.
Categories:
apnea, caregiving, confusion, health, imagination,
Form: Free verse