Waking Poems - Poems about Waking

If you listen, the morning talks to you through its white silence. There is a depth here that falls away into prayer, a stillness that seems to veneer an even deeper still. My footprints sink into the fresh snow and mark it with a kind of sacrilege, scoring a pristine glaze with a clumsy presence. All this undisturbed loveliness is already beginning...

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The following account predicated on partial fact and a healthy dose of prevarication with an attendant overactive imagination. Trying to REM ember the waking stage of an emotionally tormenting dream One week later still dog-tired after jarring telephone ordeal (seven days ago from April 30, 2025) with fake government employees, yours truly still emotionally haggard trembling and wretched closely following on the figurative...

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SLEEPING AND WAKING We sleep in God's peace, Why wake up in Satin's wars? Let's wake how we sleep!...

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A day escaped, released from the sticky womb of night held firm in the arms of midwife morning, listen to its infant cries the wails of a newborn child unfed demanding of your bed and sleepy scant attention, it matters not that you turn your back and try to block your ears to tears of open-window traffic rage and...

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Leopard narrowed his yellow eyes for the night His body is stretched across upper branch tight He snores easily, but is awakened by a small boor This small tasty mammal rustled across the jungle floor...

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(“Dragon’s Eye”, 2024, original encaustic) Waking To Duality I wake from a dream Where I’d been in nondual samadhi A vivid clarity of thoughtless meditation I tried to sustain once awake Until I realized I probably have such dreams All the time and never know. The vanity and thus duality of life Is the desire and attempt to recreate What already is Making...

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I go to the supermarket to buy some mangoes. I’ve had five coffees And spent hours on detangling computer wires. Reciting a poem I remember from fourth grade I opened another three college letters in the mail yesterday. The mailman’s teeth were yellow. We regret to inform you We regret to inform you We regret to inform you that There are no...

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Waking up early steals your sleep, but sleeping too long steals your peace, Like a morning thief leaving shadows in place of unfulfilled dreams, Movement makes you feel pain in your muscles, but stillness weakens you, Like a stone statue crumbling under the weight of time, without motion. Earning money requires time and effort, but lacking it steals your...

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In the morning, I dread waking up. When I do, there is no you. Since you left me, it's the one thing I haven't been able to get used to. There are nights I drink coffee, Trying to make myself stay awake. On the hard days I'm missing you, There are these pills that I take. In the end, it doesn't matter. Eventually my...

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Sat in rows dressed for summer, we convene to talk about winter and death. There are four screens in the room. one in front left right ...

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Cobalt blue skies, ivory-white clouds, Sun blazing through lace-covered windows, But all this belies the truth of the day As winter chills still have their way Causing icicles to slide across pilgrim ways; Do you watch from your room As folk stroll in the gloom Or steadily balance upon icy bloom, While winter laughs in the face of living Stating the cold is freely...

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One morning when the sky was just waking, she passed by me like a gentle breeze, it seemed the earth spun only for her, and I stood still, my gaze glued to her steps, her scent, oh, that scent wrapping around me like an enchanted mist, leaving behind a trail of unstarted and unknown memories. Her scent had the aroma of...

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burdened wandering among negative energies although for the most part they impacted him not he searched in vain for that elusive elixir of love resonating at a frequency matching his own poised in stillness, he exited the lucid dream recognised all as one, as thoughts he did stream...

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I woke, and in a voice unlike my own, I spoke, "Am I having nothing more than a dream, and my heart deceived by a reverie in a cloak?” I beg, tell me things are not what they now seem and that these last hours spent held in rapt passion... were they an illusion and not what I deemed real? Were...

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I open my eyes. All around me, everything is unfamiliar: unfamiliar wallpaper, unfamiliar white leather sofa, unfamiliar country. I moved here to teach, and here I am learning that I’m underprepared, underqualified, underdressed, and hungover. He wouldn’t let me leave last night, you see. As the party was dying, I coloured his bathroom with oversweet Georgian wine and washed down chicken wings that came back up. He decided: I could miss the last metro, sleep...

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