A Headful Of Thoughts
I'm lying here, wide awake
Trying hard to get some sleep;
But my brain is totally buzzing,
So it's useless counting sheep!
My mind is manically racing,
Thinking of words and ideas;
I think of the sad poem that I just wrote,
And my eyes suddenly fill up with tears.
I need to get some sleep,
As I'm actually pretty tired;
But my brain is so alive:
Like, it's been electrically wired!
Many times, I've had new thoughts,
And jumped out of my cosy bed,
To quickly grab a pen and paper,
And jot them down before they leave my head.
Is this a common problem,
Which all writers share?
Do they, too, wake up the next day
Feeling a little worse for wear?
poem by Angela Wybrow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Can't Fall Asleep
My thoughts keep me up at night,
my tears put me to sleep,
my dreams wake me up,
after only an hour of sleep.
I can't rest no more,
I can't fall back to sleep,
so I lie in bed for hours at a time,
watching the clock as the time keeps going by.
I toss and I turn,
trying to find something comforable,
but when I'm almost asleep,
my thoughts wake me up again.
So I lay there thinking the thoughts,
that wont leave me alone.
I try time and time again,
but I cant fall back to sleep.
Finally I fall asleep,
but then i quickly hear a noise,
it is my alarm telling me to get up for the day ahead,
but it doesnt realize that I've been up all night.
Thinking, thinking of those thoughts that won't let me sleep.
So I quickly turn off the annoying buzzing noise,
and there I lay in my bed,
dreading the day ahead.
poem by Rebeckah Schroeder
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sleep
I close my eyes and I try to sleep
But I cannot, so I begin to weep
As I am so tired and so very weak
Rest and solitude is all that I seek,
I wish to close my eyes and find that peace
That moment of time when worries will cease
But when I close my eyes I am still awake
Sleep for me, it did forsake,
I need so dearly to enter into a dream
But I cannot, so at the walls I do scream
I am so weary and so very tired
My sleep and rest are both desired,
Tossing and turning still upon my bed
As fatigue and worries still enters my head
Upon my bed I wish I was peacefully lying
Instead of tossing and turning and sadly crying,
Again and again I try my best to find that sleep
I take pills and I even try to count sheep
But every time I dose off my quest it fails
Another bit of madness and more pills then entails,
My thoughts now no longer speak to my brain
I have no energy I feel the slow drain
I remember the words that my friends have said
That I will find that sleep, when I am dead.
poem by Randy McClave
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Insomnia
Reading magazines and counting sheep to pass the time away
Hoping that tomorrows gonna bring a smile home again
Images of palm trees swaying in the wind on south beach
Takes me back to better days, summer days the everglades in june
My brain, my poor brain
My brain, my poor brain
Im drinking myself to sleep again, nightnurse pills to keep me sane
Drinking myself to sleep again, insomnia
Flying high in golden skies, Im flicking channels in my mind
Finding my utopia a different chapter in a book
Thinking back to younger days as I escape in coopers break
It takes me back to 84 the futures knocking at my door
My brain, my poor brain
My brain, my poor brain
Im drinking myself to sleep again, nightnurse pills to keep me sane
Drinking myself to sleep again, insomnia Im drinking myself to sleep again, nightnurse pills to keep me sane
Drinking myself to sleep again, insomnia
Turning off a switch inside me, leaving all the stress behind me
Flying over streams and houses, passing over the wye valley
It takes me back to 84 the futures knocking at my door
My brain, my poor brain
Im drinking myself to sleep again, nightnurse pills to keep me sane
Drinking myself to sleep again, insomnia Im drinking myself to sleep again, nightnurse pills to keep me sane
Drinking myself to sleep again, insomnia Im drinking myself to sleep again, nightnurse pills to keep me sane
Drinking myself to sleep again, insomnia.
song performed by by Feeder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I'm Not Losing Sleep
Yes, I've read the morning papers
Telling me that you've made money
Do you think I'm gonna crawl, then think again
Though I'm dressed in rags, I'm richer
Though I eat from tins, I'm healthier
Though I live in slums, I'm purer than you, my friend
Too bad, I'm not losing sleep
[Too bad] I'm just counting sheep
[Too bad] I'm not losing sleep, my friend
Look around and see the friends
The ones you left, our friends deserted
See the guys that used to talk and drink with you
Don't look down your nose at me
'Cause I won't ask your sympathy
I won't be your yes-sir man for anything
Too bad, I'm not losing sleep
[Too bad] I'm just counting sheep
[Too bad] I'm not losing sleep, my friend
I would walk with you
Talk with you, drink with you
If you drop that halo that you're wearing on the ground
Too bad, I'm not losing sleep
[Too bad] I'm just counting sheep
[Too bad] I'm not losing sleep, my friend
I can't get my satisfaction
Knowing you won't get reaction
What makes me the big attraction anyway
It's too bad, I'm not losing sleep
[Too bad] I'm just counting sheep
[Too bad] I'm not losing sleep, my friend
Too bad, I'm not losing sleep
[Too bad] I'm just counting sheep
[Too bad] I'm not losing sleep, my friend
Oh, it's too bad, I'm not losing sleep
[Too bad] I'm just counting sheep
[Too bad] I'm not losing sleep, my friend
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In Dreams I Now Play
Tossing and tossing I can’t sleep at all
My mind keeps racing I stare at the wall
The shadows alive they move when I turn
Sounds catch my breath the fear I do spurn
I cover my face with the quilt from my bed
I try to find sleep but more thoughts fill my head
Oh that sweet sleep would find me once more
And now there is lighting the rain starts to pour.
Suddenly an ally does comfort my mind
The sounds from the rain they treat me so kind
The thief of my rest is banished away
I drift off to sleep in dreams I now play
An Eerie Game
Why is it that one's mind can be all confusion,
With senses reeling in a blurred illusion,
One's thinking, cotton wool,
They're thinking, 'what a fool',
Perhaps it's all a paranoid delusion.
Bewildered thoughts shoot off in all directions,
Goodness knows who's still in one's affections,
With forgetting just one name,
It's like playing an eerie game,
So hard to try and work out the connections.
So where can one find answers to this jumble,
This feeling that one's head's about to crumble,
One needs a fast solution,
To get rid of such pollution,
And save one from a very nasty tumble.
Maybe a good night's sleep might do the trick,
Then one could wake up feeling fantastic,
One's thinking would appear
To be absolutely clear,
And one's brain would end up organized and slick.
poem by Ernestine Northover
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Im Not Loosing Sleep
Yes, Ive read the morning papers
Telling me that youve made money
Do you think Im gonna crawl, then think again
Though Im dressed in rags, Im richer
Though I eat from tins, Im healthier
Though I live in slums, Im purer than you, my friend
Too bad, Im not losing sleep
[too bad] Im just counting sheep
[too bad] Im not losing sleep, my friend
Look around and see the friends
The ones you left, our friends deserted
See the guys that used to talk and drink with you
Dont look down your nose at me
cause I wont ask your sympathy
I wont be your yes-sir man for anything
Too bad, Im not losing sleep
[too bad] Im just counting sheep
[too bad] Im not losing sleep, my friend
I would walk with you
Talk with you, drink with you
If you drop that halo that youre wearing on the ground
Too bad, Im not losing sleep
[too bad] Im just counting sheep
[too bad] Im not losing sleep, my friend
I cant get my satisfaction
Knowing you wont get reaction
What makes me the big attraction anyway
Its too bad, Im not losing sleep
[too bad] Im just counting sheep
[too bad] Im not losing sleep, my friend
Too bad, Im not losing sleep
[too bad] Im just counting sheep
[too bad] Im not losing sleep, my friend
Oh, its too bad, Im not losing sleep
[too bad] Im just counting sheep
[too bad] Im not losing sleep, my friend
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Walking Dead
I don’t sleep too well anymore.
I’m usually awake in the morning by 4: 00
I look at the clock and say “Oh no! ”
Should I stay in bed and lie awake
or start my day early with a coffee break?
I’m ready for a nap in the morning by 10: 00.
But then I’d have to start my day all over again.
I’m not a good napper. I hear every sound.
I’m like a ball of string that’s tightly wound
but coming loose at the end.
Now REM sleep, what’s that about?
That’s something I think I’ve done without
for too darn long. It’s a female woe.
A man hits the pillow and off he’ll go.
He’s asleep before you can say goodnight.
It’s obvious it gets worse the older I get.
There’s a clock in my head that must be set
with an alarm that goes off at 4: 00 in the morn.
I wish I could sleep like when I was born.
But that’s not gonna happen soon.
So here I am deprived of sleep.
I’ve tried everything, even counting sheep
but the darn fleecy things keep on comin’
and in my head I hear a drummin’
sayin, ” get up, get up, and get out of bed.
Most times I feel like the walking dead.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Well-Adjusted- Don't Be-Brain-Stuffing
To be well adjusted
can be a terrible thing
for where am I to dream
what does not yet exist
if I am only focused
upon what currently is?
And where in this
is to come to be
Creativity?
It can be a terrible thing
to be adjusted
because the mind
becomes hard-wired
to only what we
have personally experienced-
when I am out to discover
what is different from me?
No small thing this:
sailors die on the open sea
because their hard-wired minds
think that they need to find land
for fresh-water
making them forget
that they can catch fish
and drink.
Adjusted means
thinking like all the others think
knowing they will punish those
who dare to utter something
different from the orthodoxy.
Takes a strong mind
and character
to really think
differently
from what the others
keep
saying you
should think.
Protect that brain:
don't let the others
fill it in
for you,
find your own stuffing
to put in there
after all
you have to
all your life
live with it.
So open up
the Brain-Door
spend at least
five hours
a day
day-dreaming
that is how the Brain
wards off
Brain-Stuffing.
This what Einstein did-
five hours a day
you can see
how good
he did.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Insomniacs Complaint
I take a pill to help me sleep.
I take another when I wake
To me the cost is rather steep
I got addicted by mistake.
Although I had tries counting sheep
It didn’t work I lay awake.
I take a pill to help me sleep
I take another when I wake.
From the first my sleep was deep
I found it difficult to wake.
Due to the pill I chose to take.
I still do though it’s not cheap
I take a pill to help me sleep.
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ghazal 314
You who are not kept anxiously awake for love's sake, sleep on.
In restless search for that river, we hurry along;
you whose heart such anxiety has not disturbed, sleep on.
Love's place is out beyond the many separate sects;
since you love choosing and excluding, sleep on.
Love's dawn cup is our sunrise, his dusk our supper;
you whose longing is for sweets and whose passion is for supper, sleep on.
In search of the philosopher's stone, we are melting like copper;
you whose philosopher's stone is cushion and pillow, sleep on.
I have abandoned hope for my brain and head; you who wish for
a clear head and fresh brain, sleep on.
I have torn speech like a tattered robe and let words go;
you who are still dressed in your clothes, sleep on.
Being A Poet
I find that I can compose a poem best,
When I am out walking, or am at rest.
When I am lying in my bed at night,
I think about what I am able to write.
Or when I’m out walking, or sat on a train,
Words and ideas, all rush round my brain.
Sometimes, ideas just appear in my head,
Or may be a result of something I’ve read.
At fellow passengers, on a train, I take a look;
Some chatter away, while others read a book.
But, me, I’m sat there, quietly composing verse;
With dozens of ideas, my creative mind bursts.
If I compose lines on my way into town,
I repeat them over, until I write them down;
If they are not written down straightaway,
Around my mind, other thoughts then play.
There are many things which inspire me to write,
Such as animals, the seasons, and the sky at night.
If I try to force ideas, they just do not flow;
The poem itself, I find, just will not grow.
I like to write on a layperson’s level;
In too much information, I do not revel.
Having chosen a decent subject or idea,
I then need to get my brain in to gear.
Of a subject, I like to consider all of the aspects,
But I keep my writing simple; not too complex.
To make a poem rhyme, words I may change,
But I only use words that are within my range.
In using unfamiliar words, I can see no point;
A nice poem, tricky words, can really disjoint.
Words, within my head, I keep batting around,
Until the perfect combination, is finally found.
With poetry, I really love the creative process,
But over time, I’ve become slightly obsessed.
Sometimes I find myself talking in rhyme;
That I am a poet, this must be a sure sign.
Of my finished poems, I often feel proud;
One day, I’ll be brave and read them aloud.
Into my swirling head, ideas continue to pop;
I love writing poetry and never want to stop!
poem by Angela Wybrow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mind Searching
I was drifting through the chambers
of imagination, deep in my mind,
searching desperately for inspiration,
but it was proving so hard to find.
Visions of nonsense appeared,
as a smoke screen in my head.
It seemed the brain was delaying
creative ideas from being read.
Imbalances of clouded colour
flooded the chambers of my mind.
One by one, thoughts became stifled,
visualization I couldn’t find.
For some strange unknown reason
there was disagreement in my head.
Mind and brain were in turmoil
until the problem was sorted.
Attempts by the brain to cloud my mind
this time thankfully failed.
Inspiration is now clearly flowing,
but next time, which will prevail.
poem by Orlando Belo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Wrong Way
I don't know which planet I'm living on today,
But I got on the Tube, and went the wrong way!
I was travelling North, instead of travelling West:
That I was going the wrong way, no one else guessed.
The heat has, very obviously, gone to my head,
Plus I am feeling tired, as it's too hot in bed.
Catching the wrong train is just not like me,
As I travel around London a lot, you see.
It's a boiling hot day, so that's what I'll blame:
I'm sure many others are feeling just the same.
The heat made my brain feel slightly pickled;
Down my back, the sweat slowly trickled.
Usually, when I'm in London, I'm totally fine,
As I am pretty familiar with all of the Lines.
I don't usually make mistakes of this kind,
But, I guess, I just had other stuff on my mind.
I had travelled as far up as Leicester Square,
When I suddenly realised, I shouldn't be there!
Luckily, I had not made too much of a detour,
And a tricky situation was, very quickly, cured.
I jumped off and caught the very next train back,
And, soon enough, I found myself back on track.
I changed from the Northern to the District Line,
And I reached my singing workshop just in time.
poem by Angela Wybrow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sleep Comes Down
it's raining in my head
but no tears come down
and i'm dreaming of you
until sleep comes around
sleep comes down sleep comes down
sleep comes down sleep comes down
the orchestra's playing
it's so very loud
and i'm biting my nails
until sleep comes around
sleep comes down sleep comes down
sleep comes down sleep comes down
the clouds are all running
but no tears come down
and i'm thinking of you
until sleep comes around
sleep comes down sleep comes down
sleep comes down sleep comes down
song performed by by Flaming Lips
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Best Ideas
Why is it nearly always
the best ideas come
just before you go to bed
and if you do not write them down
you go to sleep
with words whirling around
inside your head.
It is a dilemma most writers
seem to adhere to
that the best ideas come
when you are tired
and just want to go to bed.
23 September 2009
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dedicated to ppl who dont sleep
Sleep, sleep, sleep
It’s magnificent and nice,
With dreams beyond wonder,
Sleep! sleep! sleep!
Sleep, sleep, sleep
Eyes tightly closed,
A little smile on you r cheeks,
Feeling the ambiance
Of the pure and precious sleep,
Sleep! sleep! sleep!
Sleep, sleep, sleep
Forgetting insane things of the mixed world outside
Relax my dear, feel the gentle breeze,
Do not worry about tomorrow, do not weep,
Wake up fresh in the morning with a recuperate mind,
Fresh and blessed with a wonderful sleep,
SLEEP, SLEEP, SLEEP!
poem by Tejaswini Iyer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Shattered, Without Sleep
When you feel shattered, without sleep,
the time left for recuperating
depends if company you keep
keeps you awake while you are mating,
for if while mating you are wide
awake, forbidding sleep to shatter
love-making, being bleary-eyed
when you are not is no great matter.
When you feel shattered, without sleep
because your dreams kept you awake,
perhaps change the company you keep,
for it may be your big mistake,
not waking you before you dream,
to make sure that your sleep is deep
once you’ve regained your self-esteem,
not wasting time by counting sheep.
6/2/08
poem by Gershon Hepner
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I'm So Tired
i'm so tired (lennon/mccartney)
I'm so tired, i haven't slept a wink
I'm so tired, my mind is on the blink
I wonder should i get up and fix myself a drink
No,no,no.
I'm so tired i don't know what to do
I'm so tired my mind is set on you
I wonder should i call you but i know what you'd do
You'd say i'm putting you on
But it's no joke, it's doing me harm
You know i can't sleep, i can't stop my brain
You know it's three weeks, i'm going insane
You know i'd give you everything i've got
For a little peace of mind
I'm so tired, i'm feeling so upset
Although i'm so tired i'll have another cigarette
And curse sir walter raleigh
He was such a stupid git.
song performed by by Beatles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Written Word Rules!
At the idea of poetry, some people seem to scoff,
As they consider it is an art form only for toffs.
They may think that the concept of poetry is boring,
And that it will leave them fast asleep and snoring.
There are all types of poems: modern and classical.
There’s something for everyone: it’s not boring at all.
The lyrics of songs are poems as such;
They often rhyme together very much.
People like to sing along with their favourite songs,
So why does the concept of poetry feel so wrong?
I’ve only started writing poetry in the last few weeks,
And, I have to admit that I thought it was just for geeks.
But, now I can see, that whoever you are,
Everyone has the potential to go really far.
I have to admit, I much prefer
The written, to the spoken word.
At night, I lay awake tossing and turning in bed,
With random thoughts running through my head.
By my pillow, I keep a pen and note pad,
To jot down any thoughts, which I’ve had.
At the top of the page, my thoughts I jot,
And I always plan out a really rough plot.
I like to include words which have a nice ring.
Words, like these, into my poetry, I like to bring.
I continually go through the alphabet time after time,
Searching for useful words which, pretty much, rhyme.
In simple terms, my ideas, I always like to express;
Complicated and fancy words, my mind doesn’t posses.
I’m sat here, writing this poem, on a speeding train,
As thought after thought, floods into my brain.
I’m writing notes on a mini pocket timetable,
In any tiny blank space which is available.
In my handbag, I’ve got no pad, but I’ve got a pen;
My scribbled notes, I just hope I can comprehend.
I really must start carrying a notepad everywhere;
To forget all these thoughts I’ve had, I couldn’t bear.
When I’m thinking of ideas, I just can’t relax;
My mind seems to buzz to the absolute max.
I’m not far now from my final destination,
And the train is due to pull into the station.
On this subject, there’s not much more to be said,
So, I’m now putting this poem well and truly to bed.
poem by Angela Wybrow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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