Long Insomniacs Poems

Long Insomniacs Poems. Below are the most popular long Insomniacs by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Insomniacs poems by poem length and keyword.


The Good Ship Dreamtime

This is the good ship Dreamtime
And she sets sail every night
Weighing anchor for her cruise
With the fading of the light.
Her passengers are all dreaming
That they are all still awake
Suffering from insomnia and waiting
For the arrival of daybreak.
Her crew are all phantoms
Spirits of the sleeping brain
Watching carefully over 
Those on this ethereal main.

There are screams and moans
And some of them quietly weep
As they journey through the night
None realising they are asleep. 
She drops anchor to disembark
Just before breaking dawn
Transporting the travellers home
To their own bed early each morn.
Where they awake exhausted 
For each of them still think
All through that long long night
They’ve not slept a single wink.

The good ship Dreamtime then 
Fades quietly from their sight
Until the next dusk when She’ll 
Reappear to cruise another night.
Every night She cruises 
Answering their call
And no matter how many ask
She accommodates them all.
She is the good ship Dreamtime
Who, in her own  special way,
Helps sleeping insomniacs turn
Each sleepless night into day.
Form: Rhyme


Perspectives

I might have seen,
(not on a movie or television screen),
but had looked where the mind flickers
when I am not there 
      to block the view.

In that place, where my dreams
see through a darkling glass,
skins and organs put on new clothes,
mind-bones structure the unfinished scaffolding
      of forgotten lives.
Life-stories just threads in a flying carpet,
a legend for a Navaho shaman 
to drape about his shoulders. 

Perhaps reincarnation is a book of dreams
for insomniacs. 
I watch for facets in a prism,
each one is cut into a hundred views,
a casting of what was or could be.
There are names and places,
      all sorts of leasing’s
destined to always by-pass each other
until all arrive as one
      in one multifaceted picture.
 
Those faces mean nothing much
until the mirror reveals your eyes watching,
      as if you had just walked
through a door in a mega-mansion 
      you helped build.

Premium Member Maybe Tomorrow Night

Maybe Tomorrow Night?
                        by Odin Roark

Early last night
thinking got heavy.

Uncomfortable feelings crept in.
The mix was,
I don't know…

Revealing, I guess.

How much?

How much is one person supposed to carry?
How strong this body thin?

Have I not hammered enough nails,
untangled enough twisted synaptic vines?
When will it be finished,
this lean-to in the forest of high-rise expectancies,
these mindscapes where insomniacs of abandoned conscience
meet persistent awareness in flames?

Is there only sitting alone on empty subway cars
careening through express stops,
where ghosts of ancient ether float suspended,
waving their giddy hands as the blur passes,
where the burning midnight oil insistence
searches for better light,
illuminated dream signs,
visions that never cease?

That was before I reached the last stop,
climbed the stairs into midnight darkness,
listened to my cacophony of silence,
pushed through that familiar door,
straddled my stool at O'Riley's,
made my pencil write,
while five and dime glassware
became faceted crystal of my dreams,
sloshing melted memories about,
elbowing their way into napkin after napkin,
crossed out words after crossed out words,
caramel river after caramel river,
finding my liver oh so accommodating.

Later last night,
I found my perch atop the familiar railing.

You know,
the same one as before,
and before,
and before,
studying the arc.

Did you know water runs deepest
when you know it's really the right time?
And they keep telling me two-hundred feet
allows plenty of gravity to collect.

But…

They've got me in this awful green room again.
Took my pencil.
Gave me a crayon.
Black this time.
Words don't care.
Curls and lines.
Paper doesn’t care.

Late last night,
they said I had to stay awhile.

Again, you know,
‘til I convinced them, again
that I'm all here,
all together,
just a little lonely,
no harm.

You know,
I'm thinkin'
there's gotta be another way,
you know.
Better than making you up all the time.

Maybe we could meet,
you and me.
Coffee.
Nothin’ fancy.
Just...

Maybe early
tomorrow night,
before my believin’ gets heavy again.

Maybe?

Sweetheart?
© Odin Roark  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member My General Poet Slam

SLAM - a form of poetry wherein poets slam, insult, roast and/or highly criticize each other in poetic form.

*
 
My General Poet Slam
 
*

You dare refer to what you write as poetry?
I read inconsistencies and total lack of originality.
Your haiku's truly lose any and all credibility,
and your limericks are as lame as can possibly be.
Your couplets are what I find most pleasing to read
because even though they are meaningless and boring, 
at least they are brief,
but it is most likely that I'll forever give your poetry a read.
I'm an insomniac, and your poetry naturally puts me directly to sleep.
Don't quit your day job,...seriously,
but you might make a fortune helping insomniacs to get some sleep.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Eye Of The Eye

What is that awareness by which each body-mind feels alive and becomes aware?—Unseeking Seeker

The underlying of dog-eat-dog world, 
dialogue used to defuse what’s within,
unveiling characteristics, plots and tension 
Wilty pleasures of ha ha ha’s thin skin 
the restless measured writing in prose 
adding realism with metaphor tags
Anxiety insomniacs expose egocentricities, 
loyal coterie, and owning denial lags 
In what’s plain and unembellished, ordinary, 
unpretentious loud screams heard
See me, feel me, read me, 
clinging to ink, expecting gold
Unadorned yet in an uptight hold 

Give me Kodachrome and enhance my view of life!
A brighten-filter emulsifies, nothingness’ behind  
Breathe in, pause, exhaling into wake-sleep 
I go beyond the sky and stars, the earth moon trails, 
minus space junk’s desires, cheap mind-litter
I am Artemis ll, yet I’ve no mind-space or time
Without a shell without a conch, 
I'm the propeller in a solar system
accelerating into orbital grace in a single launch
Earth appears with green auroras and zodiacal light,
A home planet, a breathtaking sight,
a sapphire hovering in velvet 
The lexicon of language, the portrayal of image,
Off the cuff spontaneous levels roaming

Aware with deep breaths and where nothing nests behind 
I seek refuge, I speak well-spoken, I’ve guidance unbroken
I make merits in holy days through alms, 
offerings in namaskar and in mantras healing verses
I maintain these days, I Am this moment 
Eye of the eye, nothing behind me coerces
© I Am Anaya  Create an image from this poem.


Premium Member Trash Trucks

Chirpy birds disturb my deep sleep.
Sky pastels reflect in a somber ashen tinge.
Sun seems to be lost in a floating mist,
cloaking wet slates and chimney smoke.

As lamp lights reflect upon puddles,
poured into uneven pavement slabs,
it seems like an abundance of angels,
wept like irritated insomniacs overnight.

In the backdrop of contemplation,
a trash truck thunders and plunders,
with boisterous waste collectors,
wheeling bins into its hungry mouth.

Sky paints in an apocalypse aura.
Mind is intrigued - pondering,
if only it wasn't just palpable garbage,
that was taken away and forgotten.
© Silent One  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Escape From Chestnut's Edge

The split level blinks
	at Chestnut End under 
	twilight's tremble, ripping me, 
	the oily menhaden bait,
	from the under boot

The Chestnut dwellers bold
interrogative flushes him down 
then plunges-up the flotsam 
village scrawler

	the way you talk
	to a blooming night blooming
	to a blow-fish blown unsuspecting
	of the scuttle, skating the wake away

The insomniacs billow from
their raged ranches, wisely, 
and after supper, tumbling 
the trickster tumbledowning 
the scrawler, the baitster 
dip-fished in his own inkwell.

	Ripped and chipped 
	in my underbrush
	I hunker down loading
	the mossy mossbunkers 
	inside my spitball.
	Kicking, winding up
	tumbling down madly aiming
	for the ramshackle fence,
	escaping once again

in my handsome
lederhosen.
© Craig Sipe  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Insomniacs Curse

Sounds that aren't there
Rattling inside my exhausted brain
Tossing turning
Thinking about yesterday
Tomorrow 
Things that will probably never happen
Heart is racing
I try to breath through my nose
Like a freight train it comes out my mouth
Please God calm my spirit
Give me rest
Breathing slows
Still sleep eludes me
Legs feel like tree stumps
Back has dull ache
Should I get up
Maybe read for a while
Surely that would put me to sleep
Mary is sleeping so soundly
Don't want to wake her
Oh how I envy her
Think of water
I must remember to call ........
No think of water
Clear my mind, let it be blank
Why do I keep looking at that stupid clock??
I start to fade
Sweet sleep take me in your arms
Drifting 
Falling, leg jerks
Wide awake again, will this night ever end?
Sleep used to be my best friend
Why has it turned into my enemy
It's comforts elude me
Where are those sweet dreams I rarely remember
In an hour it will be time to get up
Zzzzzzzzz
Alarm clock has no chance

Premium Member Stream of Consciousness

sunlit hues are kaleidoscopic kisses
terrestrial impressions 
testing the waterfall’s eminence, 
of impetus, of its continuous flow
unbroken by striving survival,
unfiltered obstruction
flowing along its perilous path
thoughts, feelings, & reactions
meandering, sipping Adam’s ale

moods unbridle as they manifest,
ellipses elapse, evaporate
lapping reckoning runestones,
monuments reciting otherworldly 
phonetic pebbles babble 
of antediluvian intuition

these stones summer bleached
warn satin smooth
at half-light, titanium white glows,
there, as dusky jewels 
natural caressed water wooshes 
v e 
    r i
      s i 
          m i 
                l a r 
rustling the leaves—insomniacs, 
lift the cyclical immersive mind
rushing, whittling a way
recanting, 

chanting murmurs that calm my soul
© I Am Anaya  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Ekphrasis

Premium Member Maybe Tomorrow Night

Maybe Tomorrow Night?
                        by Odin Roark

Early last night
thinking got heavy.

Uncomfortable feelings crept in.
The mix was,
I don't know…

Revealing, I guess.

How much?

How much is one person supposed to carry?
How strong this body thin?

Have I not hammered enough nails,
untangled enough twisted synaptic vines?
When will it be finished,
this lean-to in the forest of high-rise expectancies,
these mindscapes where insomniacs of abandoned conscience
meet persistent awareness in flames?

Is there only sitting alone on empty subway cars
careening through express stops,
where ghosts of ancient ether float suspended,
waving their giddy hands as the blur passes,
where the burning midnight oil insistence
searches for better light,
illuminated dream signs,
visions that never cease?

That was before I reached the last stop,
climbed the stairs into midnight darkness,
listened to my cacophony of silence,
pushed through that familiar door,
straddled my stool at O'Riley's,
made my pencil write,
while five and dime glassware
became faceted crystal of my dreams,
sloshing melted memories about,
elbowing their way into napkin after napkin,
crossed out words after crossed out words,
caramel river after caramel river,
finding my liver oh so accommodating.

Later last night,
I found my perch atop the familiar railing.

You know,
the same one as before,
and before,
and before,
studying the arc.

Did you know water runs deepest
when you know it's really the right time?
And they keep telling me two-hundred feet
allows plenty of gravity to collect.

But…

They've got me in this awful green room again.
Took my pencil.
Gave me a crayon.
Black this time.
Words don't care.
Curls and lines.
Paper doesn’t care.

Late last night,
they said i had to stay awhile.

Again, you know,
‘til I convinced them, again
that I'm all here,
all together,
just a little lonely,
no harm.

You know,
I'm thinkin'
there's gotta be another way,
you know.
Better than making you up all the time.

Maybe we could meet,
you and me.
Coffee.
Nothin’ fancy.
Just...

Maybe early
tomorrow night,
before my believin’ gets heavy again.

Maybe?

Sweetheart?
© Odin Roark  Create an image from this poem.

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