Sleepless
Dogs are howling.
Cats are yowling.
Stomach's growling.
Just want a nap.
Mowers mow.
Blowers blow.
Planes are low.
Please, a bit of kip.
A fly astir .
An AC's whirr.
Roaring roadster.
Just forty winks.
Telly's off.
Party's over.
Almost aslee...
Have to pee.
-Grim
while others sleep I ride my unicorn Sally through the sky
they are drowsy, drifting, dreaming, but I am riding high
Others are getting their lazy crazy forty-winks.
But I am riding Sally, showing off our pinks.
We do not care about lying down or getting sleep.
Our ideas are racing, our penmanship is deep.
Adverbs and adjectives are keeping us both awake.
My muse is saying, “pick up a pen for goodness sakes!”
Enjoy the heat
Ice laced drinks
Summer's best treat
Catch forty winks
Cherish hammock time
Swinging mind thinks
The sea sublime
Entreats to compete
Swim solo chime
Form: POI
Now I lay me down to sleep
Alone upon these empty sheets
Of paper lying on the bed
Side table clock says 5 a.m.
Oh dark of night, I beg thee stay
Keep the morning light at bay
Oh dusk beloved!
Oh dawn be damned!
Me pull the curtains tight again
And only this I have to show
These tries at rhymes
Turned tales of woe:
Of sticky socks
On stinky feet
Sit ankle bones
Prop broken knees
‘Neath pasty thighs
With muscle pains
Crooked back
And shhit for brains
Tired eyes must take their rest so
Leave behind this manifesto
For the rights
Of righteous minds
To get their forty-winks, sublime
Después de la fiesta
While they take la siesta
Sun sets low
On the horizon
But lo, the sun set also rises
O’er every heart and soul supine
Crouched behind their window blinds
Who heave a sigh
At yet another
Evening pass without a slumber
All perchance to dream is lost so
As tonight is now tomorrow:
That is all
And with that said
I take me self to bed again
I nodded off for forty winks,
and dreamt of scrod, so odd, methinks!
For they were golfing on the links,
about to putt a halibut,
while slurping fizzy, fishy drinks.
’Twas then, a walrus did inhale
that halibut, from head to tail.
Those scrod, to God, did surely rail,
insisted then, a mulligan;
their rantings were to no avail.
Then muttering at their confound,
they threw their putters on the ground,
no halibut nor flounder found.
Round squashed, nay, squished without a fish,
off to the pub, those scrod were bound.
A ruddy server rudely poked
my ribs; I suddenly awoke.
I do not fib nor do I joke;
there at the pub to have some grub,
some fish and chips; one lucky bloke!
—————
for the Nursery Rhyme Poetry Contest
sponsored by Eve Roper
written on 2/26/23
Little one, you fight so to stay awake.
Believe me when I say you need some rest.
Just close your little eyes, for goodness' sake.
Of Life's simple pleasures a nap's the best.
To snuggle beneath a blanket so warm
And just let life go on without a care.
Why struggle with the ever present storm?
Just rest your mind here in this comfy chair...
Let minutes, even hours, pass between blinks.
Later you can rise when you're refreshed.
Everyone's entitled to forty winks!
We all know what it's like in feeling stressed.
Here's the clearest difference in our age gap:
You hate them but I'd love to take a nap.
2/13/2023
Laughter in the rain
was our last song together.
Waking up is hard to do,
forty winks away.
Oh Carol, calender girl,
love in the shadows for now.
I sat by the riverbank today and wondered
How long it takes the water to get to the Gulf
Considered things my inquisitive mind ponders
Like what is so enjoyable about playing golf?
Save for an afternoon stroll, I see few merits
Especially since my back has developed kinks
My bag of clubs, the works, my son will inherit
While I spend afternoons catching forty winks.
I sat by the riverbank today and wondered
If those barges ever break loose in rebellion,
[Since their burden is a product plundered],
And run amok like some undisciplined hellion.
I suspect I should beware of my mind adrift
For, at my age, questioning can embarrass,
Although the soothing water gives me a lift
A day like this spent idling is simply fabulous.
BRONZE MEDAL WINNER
Written April 12, 2022
"Anything Goes" Poetry Contest
All Poetry
April 19, 2022
When one is poetically possessed,
Nothing like the truest rest:
For every braved forty winks
Whacks for new poems and resistance sinks!
One is very free to weep
But one isn’t snatching any sleep:
One’s Poetic Tormentors, a zillion number,
Obsessed with The Ecstatic no less The Sombre!.
You’re hailing your tormentors but with reluctance,
This act dragging to a crushing distance;
At God’s feet dropping respectful grudges,
Not as forgivable as sexual urges …
Only God Himself knows when it shall end,
For those spirits aren’t ready to bend;
When one is poetically possessed,
Sleep becomes one’s rarest guest.
Welcome to Hillbelzer Island, the home of forty winks.
A place where you can get rest, and six diverse cocktail drinks.
If you get distracted, come on down. We are loaded with shrinks.
They are ready to bill you so much money you’ll think they are finks.
We have the famous and the fickle - wheel woman with yellow hat.
She rivals Curious George’s master, but she’ll put out the welcome mat.
We have the only red-bark trees in the Pacific Ocean, for sure.
Some meet some sad fishes, they are bait for a shark loader’s cure.
Hairy blue runners are ready to serve you at your beck and whim.
Don’t let them get too close to the water, they get lost in a swim.
Pink stork cup is mad at Wheel woman for sure big time today.
She is two-timing him with his brother, Mr. G. Barry Gray.
Eggplant Lady with the low lipstick smile is coming onto the beach.
Do not mention her errant eye, unless her ears are out of your reach.
She has quite a temper and will quickly throw you to a shark.
Come to Hillbelzer Island. I assure you, being here is a lark!
Lint dunes roll in around at 3pm.
A magma of malaise soaks flagging shoes,
pewter molehills baked
into every concrete moment.
P.M. anywhere outside a pool
is a waste land,
the day drones in sink holes,
waits for the sun and moon to remember
to be apostles of good news.
Saltlicks on the brim
of empty glasses catch fire.
Siestas, naps, and forty-winks
are available for the unemployed,
the rest must hang like bats
from the arid levers of an internal clock
as we anticipate happy hour.
Prior to that sacred moment
many will hotly debate
which time zone to ignore
to get there faster.
Poet's brain out of ink
Trusty pen out of thinks
Quick step back from the brink
~ Time to cop forty winks
A Lack of sleep
Can make you weep
What to do the whole night through
Silence deafening
Noise grating
Tossing and turning
Memories churning
Listen to music
Watch TV
Read a book
Through old photos look
Knit or crochet
Play card games
All to keep boredom at bay
And irritation allay
A regular routine for some
As sleep does not come
For others tiredness creeps in
Eyelids flutter and close
Finally the body begins to doze
Forty winks
Too short some think
But better than being left without
There is no doubt
Sleep
I sat there in an edge of a seat of an overly packed train,
trying to snatch forty winks,
to get away from the excruciating back pain.
Dosed off sometime unknown,
felt a soft touch caressing through my face,
woke up to see her standing by my side.
I grabbed her hands,
pressed my face into her soft,
supple palm and sobbed out loud,
She stroked my hair lovingly and whispered,
I am the only one who's there with everyone when they are down and depressed,
still don't know why everyone calls me A "Necromancer"
I Am "Solitude"!
©Chitra Arun
Christmas Eve Mystery
The sun had set, and it was Christmas Eve.
Dear Santa finished up and packed the sleigh;
made sure his Reindeer were geared up to go
before they'd have some time outside to play.
Now it was time to go to North Pole Park,
for there they'd snack on greens below the snow,
and run and prance to loosen up their legs
for galloping through space 'neath moonlit glow.
There, Santa rested on his favored bench;
'tween nodding, saw them romping everywhere.
However, Rudolph proudly stood on guard
beside him watching with protective care.
But soon enough, except for one, they'd fled;
whichever way they looked, none to be found!
Rudolph and Santa surely seemed upset...
yelled out each name in hopes they'd come around.
Before long, darkness fell upon the park.
Did Santa's deer come back to join the team?
Yes...every precious gift arrived on time.
'Twas only Santa's 'forty winks' bad dream!
December 10, 2018
For the Contest, "The Park Bench At Christmas",
sponsored by Sara Kendrick, based on Picture #3
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