3am
By onemorething
- 987 reads
Memory loss fortunate at 3am,
a gnawing of recollection,
sensory fleeting, flicker,
a string of thought stirs
then slips away,
thief of sanctuary,
white-knuckled hold
on sheet slackens.
Blink, drink, glance at clock;
same time as always - make mental note
to conjure some anxiety from this later.
Think: perhaps the moon is not a moon,
but a hole punched through the night sky -
should write it down before I forget this too.
Wrack brain again
for recall, strain at a void,
yet something brooding,
get up, observe in mirror,
wonder whose alien face is
looking back, momentary,
smoothe face with familiar hand,
soothe, quell and quieten
the primitive with radio,
World Service; anything
to fill the space
that darkness occupies.
Image from pixabay.
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Comments
Moments when thoughts and
Moments when thoughts and feelings take hold, needing to capture them if only for a poem or a piece of writing, even when they cause anxiety this can be a form of art.
A though provoking poem which captured my imagination.
Jenny.
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You listen to World Service
You listen to World Service too! Sometimes cannot sleep al night and it is comforting listening to them talking, knowing they are al awake too. You have conjured the teetering fragile feeling of being very tired and unable to sleep, like an island in a huge silent sea of sleeping minds
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