Bleary Eyed Poems | Examples

Off day

Off Day

I try to write
And describe the colours of spring
But apart from my shoulders
Knotted and tight,
I can’t seem to feel - anything.
The sun may be smiling bright
But in my head, a heavy cloud
Blocking the promise 
Of warmth and light.
And the words 
In a handed down shroud,
Say I will always be worthless
And what I want, is just not allowed.

This weather inside 
Seems too cold and bleak 
For the “How are you” World outside.
And all I really want is to sneak,
Back to bed and hide.
I know I won’t,
But again weary and bleary eyed 
And comfortably numb 
I pretend,
To not hear the distant hum 
Of my soul like a lion once proud.
And blend,
Into the grey of the crowd
And I try avoid to descend 
Down to the misfit
That only wants to shout 
And scream out loud.

Sangeet Portals 2024

Nights Infusion

Nights infusion
bleary eyed rivals
in Soho tweed
Pharaohs joke was here
Denim clad oxymorons
with spotlight eyes
Archways lean close
as sticks befuddle
their spark of epiphany
A jewelled silence
captures the gangsters in silhouette
Freaks five a penny
prolapse the night

My Heart

My Heart 

I am a glass half full 
Sometimes sloshing over the edge 
A temple for fireflies, sand dunes 
Water by nature, that cuts deeply 
Beneath the reeds, flowing fast 
Rapids, sometimes violent 
Rushing past jagged stones 
To still again, gentle ripple 

My heart is like the ocean 
Vast and deep and full of whispers 
Rip currents and gentle foam 
Licking over the stones and sand 
Upon the shore 

My heart is like fire 
A column of flame rising from my breast
That burns down those old thorny bushes 
Making way for new sprouting seeds 

In the morning I’m bleary eyed 
Fumbling for coffee and toast 

In the afternoon, agape with wonder 
At the cirrus clouds above 

In the evening I am still
…or try to be 
Dismissing the stirrings of the day 
Shrugging it off like snakeskin 
Fidgeting, breathing, sometimes tears 
Sometimes laughter 
By the blue TV screen light 

I am a glass half full
.. except when it’s half empty 
But I always, always 
Thirst for more

Chutes and Ladders

Ivy-covered sheepskin, firmly in hand
    the confident graduate, square-jawed and tan

  Pulled offers from prestigious start-ups all over the land
    a year later he played lead guitar, hat in hand

  He, ever-grateful to his folks for those music lessons
    They, bleary-eyed from all the therapy sessions

  Yet Patience will out, and Time always tells
    Perhaps by thirty-five he'll own an oil well

Wide Awake and Sleepless

The Laws of time seem elastic
In the long insomniacal night
That expands into an eternity
With no end seemingly in sight.
It’s  half past Wednesday week
By the real world’s steady clock
But in the land of the sleepless
A time check can bring a shock.

Although it seems so many hours
Since you looked to check it last
In the strange fugue of insomnia 
Just forty  second have passed. 
Bleary eyed and wakeful
Almost  begging for sleep 
Each long expanded moment
Is enough to make you weep.

The clock clicks back to normal
When it’s finally time to rise 
To go and  face the world 
Through sleep deprived eyes,
Fighting off that  urge to doze 
Until that longed for hour when
It’s time crawl back into bed and
Snap  back to wide awake again.

And, amazingly, inexorably, inevitably 
It’s once again next Wednesday week
Yet it never seems any nearer to that 
Blessed  sleep oblivion that you seek.
And the laws of space and time
Seem at will to contract and expand
As they hold a body in their thrall 
In  wide wake and sleepless  land.

The Pulsating Rhythm of My Heart

Hungry and bleary-eyed
I lie on my bed late in the afternoon.
Rain pitter-patters on my window panes,
Thunder rumbles overhead.
A half darkness envelops the room.
I wish to sleep but repose eludes me.
 
An enigmatic discomfort prevails.
I ponder on my desperate ventures
to capture your elusive heart.
Where did I go wrong?
My memory's gone, I can't discern
What blunders I've gone and done.
I know there was pain, and worry;
but there was love too.
Great love, too much love
Perhaps too much? Surely not too little!

Which is why I feel sick.
Who knows if this will pass,
And pass soon for I am nothing,
An empty sphere without you,
But it's all right. I'll try to survive.
But for love's sake, please stop the singing!
Delete those romantic lullabies.
I suffocate.  I'm drowning in my love for you.
The world is spinning!  Hear instead
The pulsating rhythm of my heart.

Retirement

Woke up this morning, looked at the clock
Bleary eyed, thought it read 5:23
Way too early... turned over and went back to sleep
Woke up again which seemed like 10 minutes later
The clock read 7:42
Thought for a moment in my stupor
Holy crap! Gotta get up!
Hey wait a minute... I'm retired
No one's waiting for me to solve any problems
To create a market plan for a new project
My big easy chair awaits... SWEET!

The Murder Mystery

Daybreak,
the sun breaks into his room.
A pulsing headache.
He moves towards the bathroom,
bleary eyed he stumbles.
A dead body on the floor.
Panic.
He looks at his hands, but they are clean.
What happened in the darkness of the night?
He suppresses a scream.
Hysteria comes without warning.
Vague memories arise.
He was in a cheap hotel.
Why?  He hangs his head in shame.
Should he escape?
He turns the body.
A young woman stares up at him,
a knife in her chest.
Fool, don’t touch it, 
remember your fingerprints.
He rushes into the bathroom,
his stomach churning.
Why all this?
Who is he?
There’s knock on the door.
Police have come.
He opens the door.
He longs to die.
Instead he cries.

NB   Not for any contest.

31 January 2021

Astride Distant Shores

Squinting, straining ocular muscles
  unveils a lonely, battered beacon
astride distant shores, welcome signal
  to weary sailors bleary-eyed

Xmas

It comes once a year,
A time most looked forward to,
Decorations hung up lights on the tree,
Time to send children to bed,
Santa is due at any time.

Talc footsteps lead to the tree,
Presents underneath,
Mince pie and carrots on a plate, milk in a glass,
It bedtime for the adults now.

Morning comes all to soon,
Been woken with "he's been he's been",
Bleary eyed up you get,
Its Christmas morn.

She Creature

Her cold heart story
floats on bleary eyed Eros
beautiful strange

Dream House

Dream House
by Michael R. Burch

I have come to the house of my fondest dreams,
but the shutters are boarded; the front door is locked;
the mail box leans over; and where we once walked,
the path is grown over with crabgrass and clover.

I kick the trash can; it screams, topples over.
The yard, weeded over, blooms white fluff, and green.
The elm we once swung from leans over the stream.
In the twilight I cling with both hands to the swing.

Inside, perhaps, I hear the telephone ring
or watch once again as the bleary-eyed mover
takes down your picture. Dejected, I hover,
asking over and over, “Why didn’t you love her?”

Keywords/Tags: dream house, nightmare, night, divorce, wife, husband, children, parting, separation, shuttered, weeds, trash can, mover, movers, moving, rejection, relocation

The Compass

I was once a full-on novice surfing the waves,
Seas were rough and choppy here and there.
I could not bear the challenges I was going to face,
But you were by my side guiding me when and where.

The ocean was as sunless as bituminous coal,
Nature swore to prevent me from reaching my goal.
Bleary eyed from watching out all night up on deck,
Fighting against the tide of future, perplexed.

My compass, you were more than a circle of arrows,
You not only helped me sail through dark storms,
You were there when I needed you most,
Crossing the many irregular turns.

I am much obliged for all the guidance through the years.

My compass, my dear friend, farewell to you.

Her Final Bow

Row upon row of long stemmed dandies,
Yellow trumpets set to blare,
'Neath them growing, little snowdrops,
Announcing spring is in the air.

Songbirds sing sweet melodies,
As on branches blossom grows,
Life anew, is now stirring
Spring arrives to steal the show.

Purple crocus greet the Sun, 
With primrose and the hellebore,  
As pretty white anemones
Decorate the woodland floor.

Bleary eyed, creatures stir
Days of slumber passing now,
Time for all to awaken
As winter, takes her final bow.






Entry for
CONTEST 565 ,ANY FORM OR NONE,
ANY THEME, UP TO A MAX OF 20 LINES Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand. 
25/2/19. Placed=1st.

The Morning Lost

How I rued the morning lost,
For I slept late, till ten,
I love to watch the rising Sun,
But I had missed it then.

I like to rise with the birds,
To hear them greet the day.
But this morn I idled,
The hours just slipped away.

All had met the new born day,
As bleary eyed, I rose.
The birds had sang, the Sun was up,
As lazily, I'd dozed.

It was but a single day,
The Sun would rise tomorrow.
Yet to miss a single one,
Fair fills my heart with sorrow.









JANUARY 2019, ANY FORM, ANY THEME,
UP TO A MAX OF 20 LINES Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand.
7/1/19. =1st.

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