N-ice daylight slumber
A-ims to regain the lost strengrh,
P-erfect snooze in time.
Form: Haikustic
How many words at night just like
bees in a hive buzz in my head!
“No pulse.. failed the brain test.. apneic,
pronounced dead”, somebody said.
Oh, life and death, you look so much
alike and equal that I seem
to do not care who grants me such
a long-awaited dreamless dream.
A short sleep of the dead and then
it will repeat itself: a bee,
another one, a pad, a pen,
a night, a sleeplessness, a me.
I surrender my body to the place of great relief
Where sights dissolve
and sounds concede
Existing, only inside
Where living means to die
To wander the lands of misrule
To experience the fates I have yet to meet
My senses benumbed by the cushiony black
I'm never coming back
"For all life is a dream, and dreams themselves are only dreams." Pedro Calderon de la Barca
The leaves change hue.
I’m right behind. They fall to ground,
and as they crumble, I’ll be crumbling too.
Will there be souls around
to hear my sound? I crumble, drifting down so deep
inside this dream called life! An awful wait I keep
in autumn’s span of life’s short sleep.
To waken from this dream I am not wont to do.
June 16, 2019
Contest: Writing Challenge, June 2019, Crumbling Rhyme Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Dear Heart
Note: by howmanysyllables.com "crumbling" is 2 syllables (as I count it) though another counter said it was 3.
Got kidnaped from my African village,
tossed on a big, long ship that sailed far away
Stripped of every decent human privilege,
forced to work on short sleep, long hours, no pay
Didn’t come to America on a pleasure cruise,
land of freedom wasn’t nothing but fake news
Forced to work on short sleep, long hours, no pay
Looks like to me, everyday is hard Labor Day
Man is created by God
From the earth's dust;
And to ashes, he'll be back,
When he breathes his last.
He is designed by the Lord
From his mother's womb;
When his time comes
He shall go straight to tomb.
His life is full of troubles
Even from his birth;
Suffering from pain and woe
Until the hour of death.
From the cradle, he rises
From so short sleep;
Twilight shall pull him
Down the grave six-foot deep.
But he shall not stay
Forever in oblivion;
On the day of judgment
There shall be a resurrection.
Too often I have forgotten the nectar
of welcomed recollection,
Having been lazed out
in Sylvan grasses green,
lounging upon the footstool of the world.....
where the wood marries the wedded waters,
where the songster sings from his hooded perches ----
Where the dream is ripe,
with long, easeful melodies;
With wind chasing the swooning dapples....
A short sleep in the lilting sky for a pampered muse,
Could life be sweeter in some ghost-clap mansion hall?
where the forest doesn't whisper in the womb of a man's soul?
***(A plea for a swift arriving Spring/Summer....)***
O, see that sunset.
That means the day is almost done,
But there’s a new day dawning
In a land beyond the sun.
A day of perfect peace and joy
For you and me,
In a land, beyond the sun,
That we call Eternity.
O, see that sunset.
That means it won't be long till night;
But after just a short sleep,
We'll wake to morning light.
A morning when from pain and grief
We’ll all be free.
In that land beyond the sun,
That we call Eternity.
Where no one ever dies;
No tears will dim our eyes.
In the presence of the Lord
We'll ever be.
He'll wipe away all tears;
We'll live through endless years,
In that land beyond the sun,
That we call Eternity.
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