The Weary Poet
Lethargic verbs coax sleepy nouns
along verses of poetry
in the wee hours of the night.
A flickering fluorescent Light
tremulously glows its paleness
above the weary poets head,
each tremor depriving him sleep.
The first rays of sunlight shine through
the rooms window, devouring
the artificial annoyance
while his tired head slowly descends
onto his outstretched left forearm;
the pen still resting in his hand
while his dreams devise completion.
poem by Albert Ahearn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Sleepy Head
Terry widlake
Sleepy head isnt it time that you were in your bed?
The sandman will be coming soon, with a dream or two
Perhaps tomorrow they will all come true
Ooh sleepy head whispering all the things that we left unsaid
And so its time to make your weary way into a brand new day, tomorrow
The little pigs were certain that the wolf was here to stay
But in your dreams youll chase that wolf away
Hey sleepy head the princess has been saved and the dragons dead
Goodnight, and may God keep you in his sight
Safe until the early light, sleepy head, sleepy head, sleepy head.....
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Verbs v. nouns
Nouns…
they’re dead things; names
you give to things to render them
immobile; to make them yours, your very own; fit for nothing
except scrapheaps, museums, dictionaries, armchairs;
but they make you feel good;
you have control over their world;
you don’t have to think about them any more;
they’re all locked up safe in your collecting-box,
the noun for which is head:
you can sound important with nouns:
this government’s raft of measures
for fiscal stimulation of the economy
but verbs… ah, verbs!
you can’t own them, push them about,
collect them, be important about them;
they own themselves;
they’re outdoor words: going about their
lawful business, doing what they're best at,
measuring their own life as they work;
adapting themselves to what needs to be done
which nouns can’t do without a committee
and then it’s too late; happy
to be themselves, being; even
being while they’re doing.. don't you wish
you were a verb?
Nature – (that’s a verb, by the way,
not a noun) – is all verbs; evolution
is a verb (not a theory):
DNA’s a verb – you can’t own it
like a noun…it doesn’t even
want to own you…
so, be a child – put your boots on,
run, splash, shout look at all those verbs;
how bright the world, what fun,
nothing to put in your pocket to take home
(or if you do, it’ll change to a noun, your noun,
in your pocket, in your drawer, gathering dust:
verbs don’t have the time to gather dust…)
verbs are for observing; verbs are for
seeing for the first time; wow! Verbs are for
inventors, explorers, tree-climbing,
coming home after a day of verb-watching
tired and looking forward to tomorrow
and sleeping soundly, maybe even
thanking, laughing, giving, living;
God is a verb.
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sleepy- Eyed
Sleepy-eyed and tired,
your head is nodding now.
You've played so hard all day long.
I caress your brow.
The vigor of youth shows me the truth
that your dreams will probably bring
songs to sing
and happy things,
nothing to make you fret,
not like the dreams I get.
Sleepy-eyed and tired,
my head is nodding now.
I've worked so hard all day long.
No one caresses my brow.
Weary from age,
earning my wage
my dreams I will not remember.
For I'm dead to the world
like a dying ember,
sleeping my life away,
not like my child at play.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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After Poetry-reading (with apologies to Robert Frost)
My library door’s still open
with its invitations and its promises
and empty shelves waiting to be filled
and on the table two or three new books
yet unread; but I’m done with poetry-reading now.
I’m sleepy; I’m full of poetry;
smell of poetry; taste of poetry;
close to, you can hear me buzz..
I can’t get the sound of other poets
out of my head.
Sometimes it’s envy; sometimes
just annoyance, like the sound
of the man next door with his buzz-saw;
and I can’t help hearing, too,
the sound of postboy bringing yet more books
by other poets; the presses rumbling
with yet more poetry books to come..
some, I fear, they’ll ask me to ‘review’..
yes, I’ve had too much of what
I helped to start – that great harvest
of ‘American Poetry’ ten thousand thousand
graduates of college courses;
chapbooks, self-print, little mags, by the barrel-load
and so many bad apples to each barrel;
fruiting like sour crabs
on the dead wood of faculty appointments;
how much wood can this woodchuck chuck,
amidst the woods and two paths’ luck?
jeez, I’m sleepy; feel a long sleep coming on;
the book I’m holding slides from my hands,
its pages turn without my turning them;
like you, my fingers, mind… frost-bitten.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Loneliness
Now it is Loneliness who comes at night
Instead of Sleep, to sit beside my bed.
Like a tired child I lie and wait her tread,
I watch her softly blowing out the light.
Motionless sitting, neither left or right
She turns, and weary, weary droops her head.
She, too, is old; she, too, has fought the fight.
So, with the laurel she is garlanded.
Through the sad dark the slowly ebbing tide
Breaks on a barren shore, unsatisfied.
A strange wind flows... then silence. I am fain
To turn to Loneliness, to take her hand,
Cling to her, waiting, till the barren land
Fills with the dreadful monotone of rain
poem by Katherine Mansfield
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Lily's Silent Tears
Each night Lily lay down her weary head
She pulled her pillow closer
Turned her face buried it deep as it soaked up all the silent tears
She cried, she begged,
She wished she hoped but most of all she closed her eyes and prayed
From the corners of her closed eyes a tear escaped….two… three….till she set them all free
Lily cried herself to sleep night after night
Crying over life and love lost
Time slipped by
High above in the heavens one night
There way up above you and I
Upon the brightest star
Sat he
Writing away his heart
He felt a tremor run through his heart
He heard a distant cry
He closed his eyes and there deep within the beauty of his loving heart He saw that tear
One silent solitary sad burning tear that bore so much pain
He closed his eyes and wished and willed
To see the owner of the tear
The silent tear that caused the tremor in his heart
He found Lily lying on her pillow crying herself to sleep
He reached out and touched her
Soothed her healed her loved her
Her days filled with warmth
Her nights filled with moonlight and love
Then one cold night he left a tremor in her heart
With unspoken word
He told her
He loved her
They were friends
But
He could never love her in the same way that she loved him
For his heart was already taken
Night after night once again Lily lays her head upon her faithful pillow
Night after night once gain she cries herself to sleep
Night after night once again she feels the tremor inside her heart
But
Night after night he feels the tremor of another
Little Angels Are Sleeping
mechanical bulbs light
shines a seeing light
not to fierce or bright
for this small desk site
so I may write by night
by a cast artificial light
little angels are sleeping
they return to me creeping
once or twice for kisses
for their good night kisses
after their first off to bed
younger first then elder
then kisses cuddles fed
they depart again for bed
to rest a weary little head
where now is their sleepy mother
in precious moments of no bother
why she is happily watching the tv
to my work she always leaves me free
I am here for you as you are for me
when I sleep my wishes watch over thee
so twinkle twinkle little star near or far
worry not for I am as near as I am far
with love for you where ever you are
poem by Terence George Craddock
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What We See As...
What we see as nouns
are verbs to God…
see the water in this glass –
clear and still;
taste the water in this glass –
its sweet taste with no taste..
watch the Spring rain;
smell the earth give thanks
see the washing blowing on the line
smelling happy to be clean
see the mighty river, fierce
to reach the sea
watch the evening sea-fog roll in over the bay;
see the city washed afresh in the morning sun;
look up to the glorious theatre of clouds,
obeying water’s laws for all to watch;
know what mercy is; how it descends – appears,
as the gentle rain from heaven within;
what we see as nouns
are verbs to God
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Dream Lover
The flowers outside my window
whose perfume scents the air
with a sweet sensation
as I lay on my bed.
They waft through the window
by a cool summer breeze
as I lay is soft perfusion
while around my light
moths begin to play.
My eyes are heavy
as sweet dreams call,
swirling around my head
while with my dream lover
my heart begins to fall.
The stars embedded in the night sky
like thousands of jewels
resting gently on black velvet.
I begin the dance with my dream lover
while moonbeams play around at our feet
as slowly in the darkness
I am captured by sleep.
6 September 2008
poem by David Harris
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The aged poet. For Kealan if
When he was young
and life was poetry
and poetry was life
and girls made poetry
in his heart
he’d showed his poems to
an aged poet who
was quiet a while then
nodded his head and
smiled and
said ‘keep writing’
and he swore that day
as long as he could hold a pen
he’d write some sort of poetry
and so he did and so he did
and when he was
too old to hold a pen
he spoke his poetry
some say in an Irish pub
and people came from miles around
and said sure it was a t’ousand times
better than to read his poems on the page
which was itself worth –
and that last phrase was poetry
for who is not Irish and a poet
and when he was too old
to walk down to the pub
they came and listened
at his door and at his window
and when he was too old to speak
they came to see his silence
and left as poets
for their head
had joined their heart
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Poetry is all nouns and verbs.
quote by Marianne Moore
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Now And Then
NOW
Sometimes we feel so awfully tired
and lay atop the bed.
We wait for sleep to find us
and cradle our heavy head.
But sleep doesn't seem to come anymore
as easy as it once did.
For Pandora's box, filled with its woes
is trying to escape its lid.
THEN
Our youthful bodies would shut right down'from all our tireless play.
Our minds were peaceful and quiet
from simple thinking all day.
The sandman would sprinkle sand
and bring to us sweet dreams.
We were dead to the world in our bed
and never fretful it seems.
NOW
We feel the tick of every minute
filling up our ears.
We lay there wishing we were Rip Van Winkle,
asleep for a hundred years.
Slowly the hands of the clock we watch
make its way towards morn.
We're lucky to have 3 hours of sleep
before a new day is born.
THEN
We opened our eyes and jumped out of bed,
refreshed and on the go.
All of our tiredness taken away.
We had plenty of seeds to sow.
We slept 10 hours, sometimes more
and never saw the clock.
Slowly we left our youth behind
and opened Pandora's lock
To NOW.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Sleepy Eyez
Oh sweet little eyes
peeking under the sheets
so tired and weary
why wont you sleep
close your eyes
and look beyond the sun rise
till the next day
beyond the new light
you'll open your eyes
as they shine so bright
till a new day where you're
awake and lively,
to spend a new day
with friends and family
so weary eyes i say lay
your head to rest
so the next day you can be
be at your best
poem by Robert Roberts
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Town Poets
They have the ticket draw for the football club
But never a poets hour at the local pub
'Twould seem that cricket and football are the in thing
And horse racing at the back end of the Spring
But of course the Town poets have their own poetry night
On saturday evenings at the bowling club rooms their poems they recite
The local lovers of poetry their night out enjoy
To watch local favourite poets such as Rina, Kate and Roy
Reciting their poetry and strutting their stuff
It cannot be said of them not quite good enough
Quite talented poets the tops of the Town
Young poets in their thirties who dream of renown
And recite their poems in the rooms of the bowling club
Whilst it's a different scene at the Town's biggest pub.
poem by Francis Duggan
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About May
One night Nurse Sleep held out her hand
To tired little May.
'Come, go with me to Wonderland,'
She said, 'I know the way.
Just rock-a-by-hum-m-m,
And lo! we come
To the place where the dream-girls play.'
But naughty May, she wriggled away
From Sleep's soft arms, and said:
'I must stay awake till I eat my cake,
And then I will go to bed;
With a by-lo, away I will go.'
But the good nurse shook her head.
She shook her head and away she sped,
While May sat munching her crumb.
But after the cake there came an ache,
Though May cried: 'Come, Sleep, come,
And it's oh! my! let us by-lo-by'-
All save the echoes were dumb.
She ran after Sleep toward Wonderland,
Ran till the morning light;
And just as she caught her and grasped her hand,
A nightmare gave her a fright.
And it's by-lo, I hope she'll know
Better another night.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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When The Sleepy Man Comes
When the Sleepy Man comes with the dust on his eyes,
(Oh, weary, my Dearie, so weary!)
He shuts up the earth, and he opens the skies.
(So hush-a-by, weary my Dearie!)
He smiles through his fingers, and shuts up the sun;
(Oh, weary, my Dearie, so weary!)
The stars that he loves he lets out one by one.
(So hush-a-by, weary my Dearie!)
He comes from the castles of Drowsy-boy Town;
(Oh, weary, my Dearie, so weary!)
At the touch of his hand the tired eyelids fall down.
(So hush-a-by, weary my Dearie!)
He comes with a murmur of dream in his wings;
(Oh, weary, my Dearie, so weary!)
And whispers of mermaids and wonderful things.
(So hush-a-by, weary my Dearie!)
Then the top is a burden, the bugle a bane;
(Oh, weary, my Dearie, so weary!)
When one would be faring down Dream-a-way Lane.
(So hush-a-by, weary my Dearie!)
When one would be wending in Lullaby Wherry,
(Oh, weary, my Dearie, so weary!)
To Sleepy Man's Castle, by Comforting Ferry.
(So hush-a-by, weary my Dearie!)
poem by Sir Charles George Douglas Roberts
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A Song
Oh night and sleep,
Ye are so soft and deep,
I am so weary, come ye soon to me.
Oh hours that creep,
With so much time to weep,
I am so tired, can ye no swifter be?
Come, night, anear;
I'll whisper in thine ear
What makes me so unhappy, full of care;
Dear night, I die
For love that all men buy
With tears, and know not it is dark despair.
Dear night, I pray,
How is it that men say
That love is sweet? It is not sweet to me.
For one boy's sake
A poor girl's heart must break;
So sweet, so true, and yet it could not be!
Oh, I loved well,
Such love as none can tell:
It was so true, it could not make him know:
For he was blind,
All light and all unkind:
Oh, had he known, would he have hurt me so?
Oh night and sleep,
Ye are so soft and deep,
I am so weary, come ye soon to me.
Oh hours that creep,
With so much time to weep,
I am so tired, can ye no swifter be?
poem by Archibald Lampman
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Sleep Tight
Sleep Tight
Now hush
My little one
Don't be afraid
Your daddy's right here
It's just
A little dream
And now it's gone
There's nothing to fear
So close your eyes
I'll sing a sweet lullaby
Lay your head close to my heart
(chorus)
And sleep tight
The angels hover over you
They spread their wings
To keep you safe and warm
The starlight
In the heavens high above you
Will light a path
To find your way back home
Sleep tight
And now
My sleepy head
Your carriage waits
To take you off to bed
Let go
Your tiny hands
And drift away
To a bright enchanted land
I promise you
Your sweetest dreams will come true
Now leave this weary world behind
(chorus)
So close your eyes
And wish upon the brightest star
'cause when you dream
It doesn't matter where you are
Near to me or very far
I'll always be with you
(whispered)
sleep tight
sleep tight
sleep tight
(chorus
Yeah I'll keep you safe
Safe and warm
song performed by by Celine Dion
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Artificial Light
Slow dancing in a disco,
Standing underneath the light show,
Illuminated by the artificial light.
I disbelieved it at first sight,
I couldnt tell if she was black or white,
It didnt matter in the artificial light,
Artificial light.
Artificial light.
Artificial light.
Artificial light.
First time I saw her she was easy to know,
She had nothing to hide, she put it all out to show.
She didnt cover up or try to conceal,
I knew the way that she felt cause her expression was real.
She didnt cover up the inside,
She showed it all on the outside,
Stark naked in the artificial light.
Everybody gotta learn to relax,
To be yourself you have to put on an act.
Get together in the artificial light.
And if I saw her in the light of day,
I wouldnt know what to say, I wouldnt know what had happened.
I only wanna know a world below,
Where we can be ourselves beneath an artificial glow.
And if youre scared what your friendll say,
And youre embarrassed by the light of day,
Get together in the artificial light.
Everybody let yourself go,
Everybody to a floor show,
Get together in the artificial light.
Artificial light,
Artificial light,
Artificial light,
Artificial light.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There was a sleepy head, you see
She was as sleepy as could be
When at night she didn’t rest,
Daytime put her to the test.
And, oh, that sleepy head was me.
quote by by Walterrean Salley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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