Best Tiredness Poems
From birth to middle age
Tell tale signs sending us into a rage
Not knowing what to expect
Slowly approaching wondering what comes next
Hot flushes to mood swings
I wish someone would have told me these things
Trying to find a way to cope
Visits to the doctor for a glimmer of hope
Feelings of anxiety and despair
Searching for remedies it’s so unfair
Balancing hormones to reach a safe place
Tiredness constantly it shows on our face
Family life disrupted on a daily basis
Looking for normality researching cases
Always saying sorry to the ones, we love
Will it work out is it enough
i've grown weary
of this story
growing
weary
of this frame
oh so weary
of this cosmos
in which I got this name
and I can't remember why I came
I'm fearful for the leaving
can't seem to quit the game
oh how I love this loathsome body
I carry with me night and day
and when I look into the mirror
I see a stranger face
sweet solace sought in speaking
my wearisome refrain
no rest foreseen in sleeping
if I must wake again
in lukewarm purgatory
on waves that toss and strain
in sitcoms just repeating
weary lines and jokes again
and again
Have you seen--
How much is still pungent -
And sour our misery upon lips!
Have you seen--
How confusing words will be,
If from tears jumped out --
Our aspirations,
With songs and stars!
Have you seen--
How apparently pale our dream,
How wither in the orbits
Of the night stealthily,
Then suddenly being expunged!
Have you seen--
How the questions drained!
How terrifying,
Were the answers guffaws!
How stubborn our lucks!
How we walked while sins ravaging,
And eeriness and nothingness!
Have you seen--
How much pungent,
And sour our misery upon lips!
Written by © Fatima Nusairat
My eyes hurt as I awake
When a lack of sleep attacks me
Another difficult time waking up
Although, less difficult than the last
I struggle to keep my cogs working,
As I leave the comfort behind
And start anew
Eclipse
without sun
I am etiolated,
enfeebled, bereft
my backbone heavy
and limp,
muscles stale and indurate
from disuse
I try to lift my face,
feel the light,
even the dawn or dusk,
even when fog would cloud my vision
but I cannot move, for
my neck is fixed,
vertebrae seized, locked,
eyes that can do no more
than stare ahead
at this monolith, this
menhir, present since
I can remember
that ages me, leaves me
threadbare and faded,
as a moth-eaten blanket
fails to sustain a warm embrace
so I shiver in the shadow,
ensnared in this eclipse,
this dark moon
that will not detach me
from its bleak orbit
Sphinx
this ugly, amorphous monster is
stalking me again
loathsome, foul blackened heart
half-eaten by vicious, resentful loathing
it feeds on me, tears me,
rips into my viscera,
fanged words perverse and savage
scalding my insides,
scouring me –
not clean, but raw and used,
the filthy residue left by its path
clinging to my insides,
making me cough, choke
trying to vomit out this clot
I am haunted by this cursed abomination,
my bête noire
that stalks me like a snarling dog,
mouth dripping with rage and rabid with fear
that seeks to blot me out, eradicate me,
efface me until I am become the
Sphinx, worn away by time and stinging sand
When we have worked over time,
Still our work is pending,
Our mind commands for nothing,
But just requests for resting.
Our each and every organ speaks,
Gradually screams,
And at last tears are on the peak!
But we don't give up hope,
We still do our job!
And when we get rest
That time is the best
Our body feels such a way
As if consists of no weight
After a relaxing sleep at night
Our body is no more stiff or tight
The tiredness has totally vanished
By making me realize
SLEEP is something with which we just can't fight!
in summer twilight
cattle run to shed with dust
tired cowboy with stick
-Thursday, June 13, 2019 Chattogram
tired, always tired.
feeling like everything is ruining me.
This entity wanting to eat me alive.
Tired, sleepy, cranky, gloomy.
My reason for happiness, the day of the next.
So sick of being sleepy, so sick of being awake.
Tired, always tired.
Making me afraid.
I’m surmounted by
age-old anxiety,
and bright dreams of
laying under a stone
to mark my place among
people on every side of me,
worm-eaten and absolutely alone.
I move through the days
in chains of nostalgic tragedy,
with new reasons to bury
beneath the old oaks
with wounded flesh and
all of the things that madden me,
a heavy heart, and a vessel
that has to go.
This subject has caught my attention
when one night I hardly slept at all
one day I suffered extremely sore back
realising both had a pain even for the tall
After that night of little sleep for me
the next day I was tired like never before
it felt like a pain from deep within
dragging me down paining my inner core
I cried from within so agonising
feeling this was so very real
the back pain now seemed nothing
compared to this tired I now feel
Every bone felt like desiring to cry
running over my skin was many a tear
the wetness of tears so shocking
my inner self recoiled felt real fear
The next day brought inner revival
a good night's sleep was exactly my need
felt now within real joy and relief
tire no more, gone now I'm free
I used to scrub my memory clean
I packed the sadness
Into an old cupboard
Before I packed my tiredness
Into the night
And slept soundly
I locked the rain and the wind outside
I never let the cupboard open nor let the sun in
Hoping that the sadness will degenerate and walk away
With the old days
And with the old cupboard
When the garbage truck comes by one day
The old lonely basket weaver
Keep weaving in a moody silence
Great soul always suffers silence
One eyed after an accident
Do a living by weaving baskets
Children are awed into silence too
Weaving baskets
The bamboo pieces
Criss crossing
No carelessness or else fingers hurt
Only hard work, pains, tiredness and sorrows
Being criss crossed tight and firm
No one can help and disturb
Silence speaks the loudest voice
No whispers
I hope God will help him
In his solemn silent world
White Ted looked flat;
that hair and pyjama bed smell.
She was getting heavier
My bleary eyes trying not to sleep.
Bone protruded from flesh,
blooded the seat and gearstick;
leaning in best I could
to cannulate, set up drip by torchlight
as Firefighters started cutting.
She smiled and tightened her grip;
I kissed her forehead
still feeling the bitter cold.
Fluorescent coat bulkily hindering
as cracking metal sheered;
dressing the open bloody carnage.
Suddenly toast popped up,
"Have a good day at school" I said,
fighting my tiredness.
The mangled wreck still lingered
as I put my daughter down,
heading for bed, another shift tonight.
(V1) She mastered fatigue like a bible that hadn't opened for awhile
(V2) Like a bible that hadn't opened for awhile she mastered fatigue