Long Nod off Poems
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I collected a handful of stars and moon
And put it into a box
The sky has come along with it
And is living inside my head
I peep every night under my bed to see
The Box has gone out of sight
I look up into the night
And there I see it back in place
The stars and the moon
And also a piece of Sky
The moon now smiling down at me
As I nod off counting the stars
I wake up to a brand new day
And take a quick look under my bed
The box is there the sky moon and stars
Are tucked away deep inside my head
As night comes the stars
will ride with me on sky
As they have promised
and journey me to the moon.
17.08.2020.
Well how about that, it's nap time again
It's three o'clock in the afternoon
Us old guys don't have a say in the matter
When it's time it's the same old tune
We nod off while watching Oprah Winfrey
Then wake up and curse at the world
Really wanted to see her special guest today
Got angry and my pillow I hurled
My old age is finally catching up with me
Once was filled with vigor and vim
To bend over and tie my shoelaces now
The result is really quite grim
And so it goes, with this getting old thing
Father Time marches on relentlessly
Used to be able to sleep through the night
Now I toss and turn restlessly
Which means I catch up in the daylight hours
Matters not what I'm doing at the time
When the clock on the wall cries out 3 PM
It's onto the couch I climb
grandpa use to sit in his rockin chair
I'd climb in his lap
both started to nod off
so we took a nap
he'd let me play in his bread
offend time he'll wake up
snorting, coughing, and showing
spitting hailing hands waving
jumping up out of his seat
screaming hollering what's this
He'd jump up
and he would say yell
Dadgum it boy
whaz ya dun did now
My grandpa seemingly
would have a cow
He'd said
Dadgum it boy
Later on that day I seen him out in the yard
With a shovel in his hands
Appears he was diggin a hole
I had laid my rake down
And as grandpa turned around
He took a few steps
And stepped on the head of that rake
as that pole of the rake hit him in the face... he said
he would say yell
Dadgum it boy
whaz ya dun did now
My grandpa seemingly
would have a cow
He'd said
Dadgum it boy
ya, can't do nothin right
git right over there and sit down, don't move a muscle
Dadgum it
10/11/18
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr.©2018
10th ANNUAL
INTERGENERATIONAL POETRY CONTEST
University of Nebraska Omaha
COLLEGE OF PUBLIC AFFAIRS AND COMMUNITY SERVICE
DEPARTMENT OF GERONTOLOGY
Poetry to Bridge Generations. Poetry is the voice of the soul
How the world views or how society treats older people.
Submission by
The world is far from being a perfect place
Pretty sure that's a well known fact
If so, world peace would be the name of the game
Instead of killing and unprovoked attacks
It's hard to imagine what that would be like
It hasn't ever happened before
It sure would take a whole lot of getting used to
So foreign, a world without wars
What would we do with our war machines
Dismantle them and sell them for scrap
With no further wars, countries aligned as one
No need for any of that crap
Is this old guy dreaming, did I nod off for a while
Better belt myself on the noggin
If I happen to survive for another hundred years
More likely to see ghosts and goblins
The pilot closed the door.
Taking a brief moment to look around.
Patting himself down opening the door then closing it back hesitantly.
He walked past the vacant seats, inviting himself to the copilot seat in the cockpit.
He leaned his head back, observing the silence that surrounded.
Staring off into the clouds.
His back seeped into comfort. Sliding down a bit further.
His knees touching the dashboard to the controls.
He searched the sky. The chair becoming a more enticing place to catch a Z or two.
The plane landed about half an hour ago.
Still he sat. Constantly opening then closing the door.
Feeling the breeze of air pass across his face.
Stretching his legs from being cramped in a tight compartment for so long.
Watching the other planes come and go.
The constant flicker of port side reflecting off his face.
How easy it seems to go home.
Continuing to nod off into a deep sleep.
Listening to the other planes sail off into the distance.
The luxury of dreams
The neck slips
into low-mind-clouds.
closed eyes shutter nevertheless
atop 2 blind cliff edges.
The people of the United States
are nodding
off.
It happens to all places – often
We have named that ‘often’ – then & now.
In other, much older realms,
the people are deeply covered over,
only slumbering between dreams.
Nod with me,
let the sky under your skull
seep like a rising mist
over walls and roofs.
You will need poetry & myth,
imaginative ways to travel.
In far off places, men walk inside women
and women rest in the menfolk.
In the West
we somnambulate through each other,
seeing nothing, finding nothing
to muse upon.
The people of the wilderness
know how to nod off the planet
while leaning on a long stick.
Nodding over the ocean waves
the albatross sees everything.
The world changes its face
just before the nod,
just before the neck muscles
react to the head drop;
that is the jump,
go ahead jump with your chin
on the breast of oblivion.
You can nod
to that former self
that slumps now
there in that mythical chair
but then turn away,
go forth & live a little.
It was time to come in from the cold
I am no longer young, I am old
My legs long and hairy
They creak when I walk
Once the talk of the town
But they now let me down
So I hide in the corner and nod off to sleep
When all of a sudden I hear a loud shriek
What’s all that commotion
Well I don’t have a notion
Through sleepy blue eyes
I take a quick peep
There’s a man with a broom head
Getting too close for comfort
His face is so red, such a gigantic head
With the broom head he pokes
so I freeze and play dead
Then he turns to the Shriek and scratches his head
So deciding to move to a place more discreet
But confused lose my sense of direction
My legs they collapse I am feeling quite weak
Running over her legs
Running over her feet
I panic running over the Shriek
Consumed with fright she went out like a light
As she crashed to the floor in a heap
I was so out of breath
for she’d crushed me to death
So beware all Arachnids
steer clear of the Shriek...
Written 26th November 2018
Contest Strand Choice O
Sponsor Brian Strand
1st Place
what's a little bit of love from a big part of me
if it makes you smile for a while and you are digging my style
if i made your day better, then i will shower you with a love so unconditional
you make my day better everyday without even trying
open the home of your heart and let me show you how much it is appreciated
i will prepare your favorite dish....whatever it is that day
i will even attempt your favorite dessert
let's admire the view of the natural surroundings and converse until we lose the battle with sleep and nod off
as long as i am with you, the holiday will never end....even on workdays
i just want you to know each and everyday that you are appreciated
each morning i whisper a barely audible but exclamatory 'Thank You' in your ear
what you have come to mean to me is worth more than material beauty and the simple subject
your worth is what i admire and love about you most
please accept this plethora of love from little ole goofball me
Sometimes when it's late.
I turn over and want to call you.
I never do.
Believing that it's best I let you rest.
In reality I need to hear your voice so I too
Can nod off into a decent sleep.
Otherwise I am tossing and turning thinking of you.
It doesn't have to stop there.
This late night call.
Ignoring the middle of the day.
Longing to hear you melt.
Even if you can't talk.
To tell you that I've found a place that I want to stay.
And that I hope you have too.
To wish you a good night.
The best kind of therapy.
A call that leads to spreading the night in your arms.
Finding the sun at night.
To tell you I love you before dozing off.
Come Dusk, Sol sinks into the pitch of Night,
till crickets drown out bellowing bullfrogs.
The sun bleeds, inking Night with blood-red light;
while woodpeckers drum on hollowed-out logs.
Splintered silhouettes silently conjoin;
flowing into ebon pools of twilight.
The sun gilds the moon, one side of the coin;
golden spheres, fueling life with their light.
Ebony cushions the whole universe,
encrusted with billions of twinkling gems.
Splendiferous pink-colored clouds disperse;
while flowers nod off, snoozing on their stems.
Tethered to time's imperceptible string,
we're somehow connected to everything.