Long Sleepwalking Poems
Long Sleepwalking Poems. Below are the most popular long Sleepwalking by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Sleepwalking poems by poem length and keyword.
is appearing as doing the right thing
at the
expense of those that do the right thing
has the point been reached
where near enough is good enough
where fake and mediocrity is accepted
now the line between the two is blurred
are we walking blind into the dark
while bathing in the light of rightness
sleepwalking awake into a place
where the hypocrites reign
you may have freedom of speech
but only if you agree with me
they bite the hand that feeds them
and diss those that has gone before them
those that stood up,
those that fought
and
those that have fallen
in the name of freedom and peace
they wave their banners and flags high
but do they truly know
or understand
are they just being manipulated
to a evil master plan
the naivety of a pack mentality
blinded by the rigorous light
that illuminates their path
a path that will
led to the dark
for hundreds of years the battle has raged on
between the two who think their way is right
I long to fold my eyes and softly creep
beside the brook of fancy, as it flows
to tumble off my trundle bed and sleep
and dip the stardust with my drowsy toes
within the world of reverie and dreams
I cast my cares, like nets, upon the sea
so woven as the moon, within its beams
imagination's breadth, now comes to be
with all the dreamy pathways that I stroll
the routes are always varied, always new
and still, each destination brings its toll
as all my sojourns find their way ... to you
but I would ne'er deny my heart that ache ...
if only you'd come with me ... when I wake.
~ 2nd Place ~ in the "Most Comments Received Poem 2018" Poetry Contest, July Morning, Judge & Sponsor.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Sleepwalking" Poetry Contest, John Hamilton, Sponsor & Judge.
~ 5th Place ~ in the "Contest Number 470 Any Form Or None" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Sponsor & Judge.
When soft colors of
the amethyst twilight,
dance amongst shadows~
swirling through forlorn forests,
I count sparkling syllables of
pirouetting peridots,
looking for metered refrains
from the emerald empyrean,
while wondering,
what am I but a
speck of astral dust;
garnet silhouette of
desert orchid dusk,
hanging on thin threads
of lilac-laced lines,
seeking sanguine
streaks between
black and white realms,
composed with rhythmic reasons,
that reveal pristine pathways
to still wander,
like a soulful sojourner,
sleepwalking through pilgrims
perfumed with peace,
to attain eternal nirvana,
there, I’ll no longer
be a wingless bird,
but will soar like a golden eagle,
feathered in fragranced faith,
and porcelain-tailed promises.
And as the pink pearl moon
unveils its hyacinth halo,
I twirl to the tamarind tenors
of twinkling topaz,
that fall upon healing hills
thriving with buttercup bliss,
below funeral fogs,
where melanin phases of faces
lurk in sweltering silence,
stimulating my quill to release
pastel pigments of contentment,
like glowing galaxies of gratitude.
Yet, I am an unfinished poem,
completely incomplete,
comfortably rhyme-less,
misplaced in a melancholic
meadow of magnolia metaphors,
too vague for the eye
that sees not beyond
my sun-kissed skin.
While from ethereal verses,
scattered across
seraphic spheres, I strive,
wishing that phrases I weave
across midnight skies,
would calm the soundless storms
beneath lunar-pillowed oceans,
as this glistening ink on
the ceremonial canvas
of life and beyond,
longs to be the epitaph
that immortalizes my voice
amidst ashes and stones,
skeletons and bones,
there I’ll slumber with
light still flowing
through poetic veins,
amidst the
piercing pandemonium
and turmeric tranquility;
yin and yang of existence,
I am both, earth and water;
aura of intuitive seas~
and cathartic currents
mirroring the crestfallen crescent,
soaked in infinite luminescence
from aesthetic lanterns.
Attention:
This one is the problem child.
Mom and dad deny autonomy
take authority over a diary
supervised at all times; no privacy
door hinge wide open
so why are the walls closing in?
This home is an emotion free zone
Mom says save it for therapy
but stops taking me
says my borderline personality is burdening this family’s budget
believes I’ll be cured if she just burns enough cliches into my brain
“Just be happy with what you have,
what have you crafted in your head that is such a tragedy?"
I got pills to pop and prices to pay
I got emotions but I keep 'em oceans away
beyond the combination lock on a black box
Warning:
This medication may make it worse.
Unbearable.
And ain’t that just ironic?
peace of mind partners with possibilities
of seeming more psychotic
but it’s better this way.
Right?
Anticipate a thirty day delay
and lag like yesterday on your last leg
It’s better this way.
burrow into bed and brand yourself braindead
Just pretend, society says, suffer silently!
act as if any abnormality is absent
accept that it’s actually an act
learn to lock down your breakdowns
let them drown to the box’s rock bottom
Growing sick of cloaking conflicts
in courtesy of concealing others' comfort
so sorry if you choke
I will not spoon feed what you can’t swallow
I will scream my anxieties
annunciate every aspect of agony
trapping me where serotonin's lacking
Lab rat crawling its way back
taste-testing chill pills
forgetting how to feel real
sleepwalking through a social setting
so sick, yeah, I’m real ill
Everyone tends to forget,
the tension doesn’t rest when the poem ends.
Awaking from Stupor 1-16-24
It's not desire per say but the clinging
That stifles soul and stops heart from singing
Enlivening silence sets our souls free
Vibrant in the now, joyful and carefree.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Awaking from Stupor
Winter haze beats upon the door,
Drunken dreams cling to bitter cherries of midnight,
Before night sashays into white flurries of dawn
When dull eyes wrestle out of binding yesterdays,
And pink-purple pussywillow hallucinations,
Provoked
Awakened to dream
Throwing off phantoms of eiderdown illusions,
Dawning redeemed from the clutch of midnight shrouds,
Nascent emerges sipping sweet soul sunrises
Coaxed from aromas of grace,
From holographic hollow mazes,
While pale sleepwalking staggers into real
Returning with a rosy heartbeat flush
To leave in shadows lethargy of ragged pastels
Numb shades to retreat like useless ghosts
And cower in new auroras of primed breathless light,
Neon insights flash electric incentive,
Sparks ignite fertile tinder stored in silence,
Sentient eyes step into the womb reserved
For every new second purified
In percolation of harmonic animas –
Conscious and unconscious
Awake emergent -
Bliss consummated!
I find myself becoming more and more distracted.
Taking a sheet of paper and tearing off the corner.
Then tearing off the torn part again.
I remember that time…
It’s like when…
I find myself becoming more and more distracted.
Like footprints spaced farther and farther apart.
In the corner of my eye, I’m-
Leaning against the counter and the
counter is sinking into the floor.
I don’t remember waking up from that, but I did.
Waking up, but I can’t talk.
Falling asleep, but it feels wrong.
It’s too chaotic to sleep.
I think I sleepwalk.
But they think I’m just weird.
I think I am now…
But they don’t believe me.
In the hidden realm of forsaken souls,
Where echoes of long-forgotten hopes fade,
I wander among dreams seeking their eternal place,
Beneath stars that seem to gossip about their cold neighbors.
Their intangible silhouettes, like leaves shaken by the wind,
Struggle in a world where smiles appear to be rented,
In the endless game of hide-and-seek between desire and reality,
They live their existence, with the regret of an irretrievable time they've missed.
I stand beside them, wrapped in their blanket of unheard sorrows,
And feel how the echoes of each ancient heart reverberate endlessly,
They whisper tales of lost love, of glory and ruination,
Souls sliding gently into the tide of oceans of melancholy.
The sky darkens, and the tired daylight goes to rest,
Amid the night's unrest, thoughts are torn between being and not wanting to be,
In the depths, fragile hopes tremble, each battle, every defeat,
Memories of a past which, like a river, has changed its course time and again, now lies cursed to wander alone.
The moon pierces their gaze with its inert silver rays,
Drawing upon the sea's floor transient and uncertain memories,
Vibrating with the vibration of the sky to catch a spark of luminescent wonder,
Their silent scream is a hymn for those who have loved, lived, but in the end, are absent.
The gate to the morning of another day seems a brick wall,
Lonely nights stretch out, oozing thoughts without rhyme,
With each breath, we find fleeting wings, shards of ephemeral freedom,
Yet somewhere amidst it all, we glimpse the hope of the self from yesteryear, even in these sleepwalking, ephemeral evenings.
And I, a shadow among shadows, have joined their tacit procession,
Listening to the heart as it sings a serenade for the nights in which I have dreamed,
In the rhythm of autumn rain, lamentation envelops, tightens around me, tirelessly,
Bringing with it the echo of a belated "farewell" that time has long awaited.
I lose myself in the length of this soiree, where each drop pulses with its own weight,
A tacit symphony, rhythmized by slides of emotions and unexpected silences,
In search of a tomorrow that doesn't reek of an unhealed yesterday,
I let my thoughts slip, to fall, until they themselves become the morning I once dreamed of.
To the Man in the mirror who seems to have lost his way,
Losing his emotions, sleepwalking through the day to day
I wish i could see you smile, i wish you could see...
Through those weaping eyes, the man you should be.
Hes inside of you, you just lost your way,
Falling victim to being a drone, in this day to day.
The Downed jester you were... just now seems vacant
The one thing that gave you emotion, has now grown stagnant
Youve lost the one tie to reality, now you just feel...
Emotionless and lonely... empty tears you peal
Waiting for life itself to run its course...
Not having a family, stems your remourse...
Even as you write, you just feel a void...
Yearning for the sadness, you once enjoyed..
Are you broken? Is something wrong?
Hands of time keep moving on...
Myself walking, away from me...
The emotionless man... stuck in history
You miss the days... the ones you could feel
As i sit here... empty tears peel.
-The Downed Jester
~~Chronic Pink~~
(Parents Peril * The Nightmare)
Evil sits and whispers - sweet lullabies
Chimes within my head,
Damnation scratches at my conscious
Of what was and is!
ASLEEP……………….
Water runs down my toes
Rain taps at my windowpane
A fear; I relive my childhood days
~~Dark April showers bring in a chronic look~~
Motions before daybreak, to face a colorless what!
The trickle of musty wind meshes under my skin
The panic begins to initiate the voices
Unstable - a gash of blood fills the mind
SLEEPWALKING……………….
Dark feelings pollute the inside my head
Visions of slitting my wrist from end to end
My subconscious betrays my sanity
Praying is what got me through the dark-mares.
I held my own hand that very night
Telling myself it would be all right
Suddenly!
MY EYES OPEN WIDE……………….
Walking down the narrow hall
The Chimes, the Chimes!
Snapped into a moment of crime
The trail of Sweet lullabies came from my parent's room
Shhh!!! Hush now, *humming to the evil chant*
Whispers of dust whisk through the air
I grab the envelope opener,
My heart pumps, piercing each neck
One by one, they look up -IT WAS ME-
A demonic child’s laughter erupts
A Chronic Pink look
Pacing off the bed
What have I done?
Cries of nothing led me back into my room.
There and only there, water sits under the sheets
The emptiness in my head was the sign of complete
Falling asleep to the quietness around the room
Waking up to, the parents peril sight every night
My subconscious holds no sympathy
To: relive the same chronic pink memory
AGAIN- I begin to hear the sound of scratching violins
Where dreams of demons wear pink
by;pd
9/10/2012
The night ended in smoke.
Sleepwalking fumes
rolled over the park,
perambulated in groggy circles,
then got stuck in the tree branches
where they hung as thick
as melting duck fat.
Around eleven in the morning
the sky began to baste itself;
you could smell it simmering
on the edge of a backburning brink
as it grilled a too torpid air.
It was sweet in the mouth at first
then it fire-licked wet ears
and slippery toes.
Skeletal strings unwound.
Mind-sweat began to pour,
drowning-out hope of any ease,
thoughts flopped to the earth
stewing amid overheated bubbles,
Microbes leached through
oily eyebrows.
Ohio just can’t get its weather right;
some nights merely pre-heat the day,
daylight pants through aphid snouts
and brown stems,
or bulges lungs with its ballooning fevers.
if the next passer-by
gleefully remarks:
‘what a lovely day’
they will be cursed politely
with a gorgon stare,
then a thin, and crispy leer.