I cannot shut my eyes,
for there you are,
I cannot open my eyes,
for there you are.
You haunt my every thought
I wake up in cold sweats,
because I dreamt that you hated me.
I daydream about us being together,
And I'm devastated
Because I know it will never be.
I try go about my day as normal as I can,
But I keep seeing your figure appear, EVERYWHERE!
How do I escape you?
Do I even want to?
Failing to get enough sleep or
getting poor-quality sleep are
resulting to health hazard; it
is known fact, it makes us unfit
to discharge daily acts with cheer.
It's voluntary let’s admit
but unintentional, can’t quit.
Sleep deprivation is seen more
in young generation; appear
to ignore outcomes a bit.
Yet, avoid action, though aware;
to work pressure they do submit;
postpone sleep and needed health care;
fail to do best, though they commit;
timely sleeping they shouldn't ignore.
~X~X~X~
The Signature Sonnet is introduced by B Chandler of Allpoetry.
It’s another invented sonnet pretender in 3 quintains(15 lines)
It is metric, written in iambic tetrameter and rhymed,
Turned on only 2 rhymes aabba bbaab ababa
Volta not specified, but not excluded.
Pasted from http://poetscollective.org/everysonnet/signature-sonnet/
Thanks to Mr Lawrence Eberhart for the resources at Poets Collective Site.
At times
The nights
Are painfully long
And seem to pass by
So very slowly
It makes
Me feel like I have no hope left
It gives me feelings of despair
Like a tarantula of rain pouring down
It makes me
Want to cry
Like snow drifting from the sky
I drift
In and out of sleep
And wonder
Is this how I will spend the rest of my life sleeping?
If we knew in advance that all daughters and sons
keep us up every night: yours and mine — everyone’s
(teething, peeing and screaming,
yet so INNOCENT-seeming),
we’d be living in convents like well-rested nuns.
How can I sleep when my thoughts are racing?
Going round and round, my mind is pacing.
All these bad dreams they keep me awake,
They seem so real but I know they're fake.
Truthfully, when I'm there lonely at night
My feelings reach a complete new height.
Late at night when my rhymes begin,
All the longing and hurt finally set in.
They haunt me when I sit there alone,
It's not just my heart, my thoughts you own.
Everything starts and end with you,
I wish my bad dreams didn't too.
Some of the things from my nights of hell,
You'll probably never ever get me to tell.
One day, it'll be your eyes I'll see,
When you're home I know I'll be nightmare free.
The lighting, it was over-bright
Sleep, now a luxury deprived
For here there is no day or night
The lighting, it was over-bright.
Lethargy saps the will to fight
How long can he retain his mind?
The lighting it was over-bright
Sleep now a luxury deprived.
Deprived of sleep most every night
Always looking like a fright
Bags under my tired eyes
No matter how much I try
The sandman won't hear my plea
Begging him to get some sleep
Sprinkling his magic dust
Over me so I can just
Snore all through the darkened night
Not waking till the morning light
Refreshed and full of energy
Not insane and going crazy
From my lack of nightly slumber
Mr. Sandman put me under
Before one day I just crack
Sleep deprivation that I lack
Will drive me nutty and fall
In a room with rubber walls
My thoughts bouncing everywhere
Mr. Sandman don't you care
That my marbles have been lost
Because of a stingy boss
Watching over bags of sand
That he sprinkles from his hand
Here I sit yet one more night,
playing solitaire while sleep takes flight !
I was weary as I climbed in bed,
fluffed my pillow and laid down my head.
I closed my eyes and said a prayer;
a good night's rest has become so rare !
Sometimes my mind won't take a break;
other times my legs keep me awake.
So up I get and try to cope,
doing my best not to give up hope !
Soon I'll lie down again and pray
my nighttime "demons" will stay away !
Victimized by time, is the clock-watching man; Fervently anticipating an immortal response
to reassure him that these moments are his to experience. What agony it is to realize that
through this timid inactivity, moments are neglected and experiences are unfulfilled.. aging is
the only form of progression that can be derived from this stubborn dissatisfaction..
Victimized by the clock-watching man, is time; Fervently whispering an eloquent melody of
relief and reassurance into the ears of one who seeks none but his own. What a tragedy it is
to be neglected so obliviously, so unrelentingly.. by someone who yearns to experience you
the most..
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.