Autumn’s dried up day.
Visual noise titration stops.
Sleep – Life’s fermata.
Sleep, the friend,
pulling up beads of
Where is life giving oxygen
in the swirl of darkness?
Tree Spirit breathes in,
yet I am lacking….
Perhaps I fly the planet
in the night – O2 isn’t needed
when soaring, bodiless.
Written from Papworth Hospital where I am for an overnight stay on a sleep study. From the window next to me I can see a Silver Birch and in it is a face….
Sleep is weighing down on the eyes of the people tonight…..
Feathers fall from the skies like particles of stars
as God’s own passionate ones spoon together
under a mellow duvet of golden beams.
“Good sleeping Love birds” says the Owl of the white barn.
“Fair flying oh watchman of the night…” say the swooning Lovers.
The old school clock stands in silent too,
until the dew filled dawn seeps over the horizon
and far away, in foreign lands, other faces are washed,
bags are filled with weighty books, as a new day
calls the people to add another chapter to their Lifescape.
I notice I can’t take my hands off the keys.
I want to write.
My body, who is clearly a separate entity
has other plans – and yet,
I want to be here in the rough and tumble
of the seeker’s life,
the writer’s sweat,
the poet’s playroom of deliciousness.
Am I still the inquisitive four year old
fighting the sleep?
Throwing feather pillows in the air?
If I am, my little heart has Loves to live
and passions to embrace…..
Perhaps now I have said it….
maybe now I can leave my fight
and fly into my sleep of dreams.
I whisper –
The spider hears.
My little voice
It’s the tiny hours
in my room
where sleep comes
over the edge of the clock….
Coming in and out
like waves of hot flushes,
I struggle to tap
these wee few words.
If my eyes were even
a little open
I would see the
Spectre of Sleep
beckoning me into
the echoey chamber….
o v e r …..
t h e r e…….
This offering today is linked to FMS (Fibromyalgia Syndrome) which I have….. It’s a chronic condition with many symptoms including widespread, constant pain and deep exhaustion.
Another phase has hit me….
this rapacious, inescapable sleepiness.
My eyes are heavy, cannot focus,
unable to keep them open, again.
It’s been about three days or so
where life is filtered through
veiled eyes and echoey ears…..
My writing comes in word-bursts
as mind slides in and out of
landscapes of colour, emotions
and rantings of my inner critic.
There is a pain involved here in this
silent world of insatiable sleep,
this dragging up out of the
space where cocooning the self
is the only option……
Like dogs (I imagine)
licking my face, creating dumb shock
in me and unable to get them off….
Such a ghastly thought…..
hello… so glad you dropped by..
I said to him last night,
“take my car to work….come back in the morning and rest with me?”.
He looked at me…..
“OK” he said, with a seduction at the corners of his wide, wet mouth …..
There he was in the cold morning rain, at my door at 9am.
We climbed into bed – into clean sheets….
for 10am and radio 4…… The Archers Omnibus….
I fell asleep in his arms, missing most of life in Ambridge…..
yet this little haven of snuggledom
had me purring deliciously with delightfully safe sleep.
Outside this nest, Autumn winds
bumbled against the old, rough wooden door
and rains of dark lit skies
defiantly washed the small paned windows,
as it struggled to come in.
“No chance!” I mumbled…. “n o c h a n c e.”
Ostinato of Autumn
The change from summer to autumn
came rattling at my windows,
sounding in the trees
like the ocean’s breaking waves
and I lay there listening,
with an anxiety
not felt for many months and moons,
to nature’s symphony.
You lay next to me,
flesh white and cool
with goose bumps
asking to be covered.
Sounds of your breathing,
the restless night, brought comforting images of
saw and bow and I giggled, silently.
How I do love you,
you with the gift for ostinato.