Classes started up again today. Soon, we’ll be gloriously stressed, and clocked-up on whatever. Our hearts will swell to the pre-med symphony - a frantic opus, composed in the key of no sleep.
In seminars for rising pre-med seniors, (What's needed to get that med-school slot!), it’s obvious that 60% of the students who started out with us, on this track, are gone - left for other majors. “I wasn’t happy, it was too much,” they said.
I feel a pang when I hear that undergrads we’ve shared a trench with have switched their major to basket weaving (‘political science’), TikTok (computer science) or Phys-Ed.
I envy those defectors, I pity those defectors, I envy.. Wait, aren’t deserters supposed to be, well, you know.
Meanwhile, the rest of us, the stubborn few, cling to the dream. It’s a waking dream, for caffeinated zombies, obsessive-compulsive workaholics and maladjusted wonks who neglect personal needs, relationships and in some cases personal hygiene (not me, of course) in favor of a goal.
Maybe there’s something wrong with us?
I cannot sleep
I can't find dreams
Though tired as my body seems
My mind adrift
Thoughts everywhere
I wish I could fly away up there
Let go of the future
Forget the past
Because none of this is made to last
But my brain won't stop
It won't slow down
In pointless thoughts I continually drown
So here I am
Writing away
Trying to pass the time of day
Until into sleep
I finally fall
Hopefully dream of nothing at all.
-lost and can not find
something too far out of reach
just need a little
migraine pains they creep
black dog images appear
dry eyes blurred vision
no motivation
tossing turning twisted sheets
two dogs that can sleep
if only I could
for now I will close my eyes
pretending to sleep
9-3-23
Sponsor L MILTON HANKINS
Contest Name PANTOUM ON WRITING POETRY
Date of creating the poem 7 December 2022
I cannot sleep for an unknown reason,
The light is off, but thoughts are in confusion...
Perhaps, it is my poems writing season,
as poetry is coming in profusion.
The light is off, but thoughts are in confusion,
and, burgeoning with rhythm and with rhymes,
the words invade my mind in profusion,
like it had been before in old times.
They, burgeoning with rhythm and with rhymes,
so easily, and full of gentle grace,
like it had been before in old times,
a while ago, in another place.
So easily, so full of gentle grace,
the words were streaming from my heart inane
a while ago, in another place,
when I have been in love- perhaps, insane.
It’s history, but what I find odd:
I cannot sleep for an unknown reason,
as this is known only to God...
Perhaps, it’s just a poems writing season?
7.12.2022
It’s an old trick in the book
To count sheep till you fall asleep
But Mr. Insomnia stays up late
It seems he wants to be my date!
He seems to have alternate plans
He makes me do things I cannot understand
Why the other day for crying out loud
He punished me and threw me out!
It was dark and O so cold, I begged him
Yes I implored, his good humour seemed restored
He took me on a merry go round
I started giggling but had promised
not to make a single sound
Mr. Insomnia’s red eyes on my back
Making me go round on a circular track!
He is a monster that grows inside of me
And conspires with someone
I don’t even want to know
My movements are extremely slow
Why the other day my heart skipped
I only knew it could beat!
Mr. Insomnia arose from his seat
It early morning he is shuffling now
Moving quickly towards his den
If he turns around I’m ready to stab
Him with my only weapon the mighty pen
Instead of sheep, I now count to ten!
20.5.22
I've had a few too many drinks
So I can't explain quite correctly
Why my eyes aren't functioning
And typing is harder subsequently
But I guess this is an improvement
Than the spinning feeling when they're closed
So i may not adequately articulate
My feelings on the matter
But I can't fall asleep in silence
Regardless of the situation
I need some kind of chatter
If I'm left alone with my own thoughts
There's endless questions with no answers
So many hypotheticals
In numerous directions
I'm not sure where to start
But im so tired I could end
Doesn't seem to be a middle ground
It's feels too much to comprehend
So I wait for rem with a kicking canine
And hope I can dream of chasing rabbits too
It seems a bit more simplistic
Than imaginary life idealistic
Night brings misery…
adrift in midnight scowl
I strike a match, blinking light
With lanterns glowing soul
Release to shadows, my darkness
5-20-2020
WEAVING A WAYRA Poetry Contest 1st place.
Sponsored by: nette onclaud...thank you :D
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.
Looming ...
The possibility of crisis
Life-as-you-now-know-it-ending crisis
From a crystal azure sky, shining ...
The ominously dark anvil of disgrace and horror
Like the knurled hand of karma
Crashing through a sunny window
And washing you pale and empty with oily blackness
A diabolical knot in the stomach ...
That has no ease or definition or finality
Riding you like the horsemen into hellish oblivion
A cold finger on blue steel, squeezing
Bound for naught but ruin ...
And the spalted spattering of gray matter
Vitality and brilliance and talent of a rare ilk
Turned to stains and puddles and clots
By their own ... inane ...
Ignorance.
~ 6th Place ~ in the "Contest Number 440 Any Form" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Sponsor.
Through the elements of fear in faith
you become vulnerable to conversing legends.
The reclining god was stolen from the temple
for a weeping skull.
Red clover will interrogate the blurred sky
for domestic violence of dark themes. Ashes
in a terracotta urn were not involved
of a body disrobed. A prosaic
flight of birds was circling around a humpback
sleeping on a lone bench.There were no qualms
in valley of ebbing coat of arms.
You want to coax the nuts and screws
to shut the thousand windows.
A pinhole camera may not be able to capture the light.
SATISH VERMA
A walking zomie
A fear at night
A loss of mind
A crazy life
A monged out mind
Afear at night
drives herself crazy
theses sleepless nights.
Through the elements of fear in faith
you become vulnerable to conversing legends.
The reclining god was stolen from the temple
for a weeping skull.
Red clover will interrogate the blurred sky
for domestic violence of dark themes. Ashes
in a terracotta urn were not involved
of a body disrobed. A prosaic
flight of birds was circling around a humpback
sleeping on a lone bench.There were no qualms
in valley of ebbing coat of arms.
You want to coax the nuts and screws
to shut the thousand windows.
A pinhole camera may not be able to capture the light.
SATISH VERMA
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