Mehr Licht! Initial Version
'One last look! ' he cries.
Sleep steals over the spirit: -
closed book, open eyes.
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Related quotes
Sleep Teases A Man
Markov took off his boots and, with a deep breath, lay down on the divan.
He felt sleepy but, as soon as he closed his eyes, the desire for sleep immediately passed. Markov opened his eyes and stretched out his hand for a book. But sleep again came over him and, not even reaching the book, Markov lay down and once more closed his eyes. But, the moment his eyes closed, sleepiness left him again and his consciousness became so clear that Markov could solve in his head algebraical problems involving equations with two unknown quantities.
Markov was tormented for quite some time, not knowing what to do: should he sleep or should he liven himself up? Finally, exhausted and thoroughly sick of himself and his room, Markov put on his coat and hat, took his walking cane and went out on to the street. The fresh breeze calmed Makarov down, he became rather more at one with himself and felt like going back home to his room.
Upon going into his room, he experienced an agreeable bodily fatigue and felt like sleeping. But, as soon as he lay down on the divan and closed his eyes, his sleepiness instantly evaporated.
In a fury, Markov jumped up from his divan and, hatless and coatless, raced off in the direction of Tavrichesky Park.
poem by Daniil Ivanovich Kharms
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Eyes Wide Shut
There are those with open eyes
Whose hearts are closed
What do they see?
A Material world
But someone whose love is aware
Even with eyes that sleep
He or she shall wake up thousands of others
If you are not one of those light-filled lovers
Restrain your body’s intense desires
Limit how much you eat
Sleep not from laziness
If awake in your casket
Sleep long and soundly
Your spirit is out roaming and working
To the highest levels
Your eyes may rest but love needs no rest
You have a Higher Self inside
That listens for what delights the Soul
ROTMS
(Inspired by the brilliance of Rumi)
poem by Ray Lucero
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Closed My Eyes
I closed my eyes and went back to sleep,
thinking to get back to that bad dream
but unfortunately,
It was not this time.
I closed my eyes and went back to sleep,
hoping to wake up,
and welcome a beautiful day,
But was already caught in the darkness.
I closed my eyes and went back to sleep,
wishing to start the day,
seeing his face,
sadly that would just be in dream.
I closed my eyes and went back to sleep.
waiting for that wake up kiss,
but sadly never would be true again,
poem by Pratisha Karki
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Outside331’sSleep
Don’t open your eyes yet not until I explain last night I went to bed with Sleep last night I fell for Sleep last night Sleep unclothed me left me naked in a room painted black I couldn’t see Sleep because Sleep was dark too and the room was black and the foreground blended in with the background I couldn’t tell what was far and what was close I became frustrated because Sleep was either hiding inside the room or the room was hiding behind Sleep neither were being fair to my eyes who wanted to play hide and go Sleep I hide inside the room and Sleep seeks I said where are you Sleep I can’t see you my eyes can’t find you Sleep I said I wanted to fall inside you brought me into this black room and I am trying to wrap myself around you won’t you come inside of me you won’t stage scenes in my eyes created with color everything is black one long stretch Sleep are you moving and I can’t see you or are you standing still and I can’t feel you are here Sleep you are silent Sleep I feel alone Sleep I want you to be inside me if you take me to a black room and make me go to bed are your eyes open I can’t see you did you leave is Sleep here Sleep am I inside you explain Sleep explain did you open your eyes Sleep are my eyes open Sleep are you outside me Sleep you took me to bed and left me Sleep I can’t open my eyes until you are back inside me I can’t see Sleep when you’re not inside me open your eyes Sleep do you see me inside you explain last night am I still inside Sleep?
(12-13-07)
poem by Chelsea Trescott
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A Closed Book
A book unopened
leaves words to die.
A book unopened
leaves words to lie
in perpetuity,
never alive, never free
to deliver its thoughts
for any to see.
Who was the writer?
What did he pen?
The absence of readers
are lost and then
the book lies quietly
on a shelf
and maybe all by itself it knows.
It will never be opened.
It will always be closed,
just like some people
who won't open up
and speak their words to you.
Their life is something
you'll never know,
something you won't view.
For they are a closed book too.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Welcome Home
I go outside to find the middle of nowhere
Everyone needs their own empty stage
Just like the sky with no beginning or ending
I like reading a book without a last page
Stop and turn around
And say it with your eyes closed
You don't need to welcome me home
Stop, turn around
Try looking with your eyes wide open
As we live our lives through a series of glances
And you smile without smiling for a whole another year
I think we need a little bit more understanding
I think the future is already here
So I won't ask you to
Stop and turn around
And say it with your eyes closed
You don't need to welcome me home
Stop, turn around
Try looking with your eyes wide open
Welcome home
Welcome home
song performed by by Idlewild
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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He Cannot Sleep
He cannot sleep
with eyes wide open
he does not see enough light
through this blinding darkness
he feels the recession thundering
like an enormous quake
on a Richter scale
with unfathomable
logarithmic upheaval
as joblessness
cries out for mercy
rising like a tsunami
in tumultuous waves
wallowing in our hopes
for a better tomorrow
often times
job openings make mockery
of our social fabric
lashing away with emptiness
or nibbling away
at our broken dreams
like piranhas
only leaving our bones
for the breakfast table
with our eyes wide open
he cannot sleep
we cannot sleep
sleep.
poem by Leonard Dabydeen
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'One last look! ' [s]he sighed.
Sleep s[t]eals fast reel casts lost soul,
closed book, open eyed.
haiku by Jonathan Robin (17 January 2010)
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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The Chornicles of a Dark Heart Part 16 The open book's monologue
Red what is it to you black the color of death? maybe maybe not? anyone here play video games? FOR CHAOS? ring any bells help spread the taint more quickly? what might an open book write
what would a open book draw
what would an open book think
open books are predictable
so predict what the picture means
why is black black? why is red O infused? what is the meaning only you know maybe only me...
(added years later)
Maybe I'm the book, and maybe you're the reader
but who is you? is it not everyone
since I'm open, for all to point at laugh at, out of malice or for fun
because they know my thoughts, they know i love her? !
what did i do?
i never said i love you! ! !
how can they know?
how did i reap what i did now sow? !
The worst part
about being an open book,
is an open book can't close itself, can't have a heart
anyone can know all from just one look
there seems to be something wrong with being too open and honest
but it's too late a book can't close itself
can't move by its own accord to a shelf
an open book can never rest
so now I'm the book, so since im there just read
just read.... and watch my heart, my purpose, my soul, my life, me
watch.... watch them bleed
poem by David Knox
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sleep! Sleep! Sleep!
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 warm sensations
Of the pure and precious sleep,
Sleep! sleep! sleep!
Sleep, sleep, sleep
Forgetting insane things of the mixed world outside
Relax my little one, feel the gentle breeze,
Do not worry about tomorrow, do not weep,
Wake up fresh in the morn with a recuperated mind,
Fresh and blessed with a wonderful sleep,
SLEEP, SLEEP, SLEEP!
JERINE JAMES (3RD JULY 07)
poem by Jerine James
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His Litany, To The Holy Spirit
In the hour of my distress,
When temptations me oppress,
And when I my sins confess,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
When I lie within my bed,
Sick in heart, and sick in head,
And with doubts discomforted,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
When the house doth sigh and weep,
And the world is drown'd in sleep,
Yet mine eyes the watch do keep,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
When the artless doctor sees
No one hope, but of his fees,
And his skill runs on the lees,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
When his potion and his pill,
Has, or none, or little skill,
Meet for nothing but to kill,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
When the passing-bell doth toll,
And the furies in a shoal
Come to fright a parting soul,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
When the tapers now burn blue,
And the comforters are few,
And that number more than true,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
When the priest his last hath pray'd,
And I nod to what is said,
'Cause my speech is now decay'd,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
When, God knows, I'm tost about
Either with despair, or doubt;
Yet, before the glass be out,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
When the tempter me pursu'th
With the sins of all my youth,
And half damns me with untruth,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
When the flames and hellish cries
Fright mine ears, and fright mine eyes,
And all terrors me surprise,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
When the Judgment is reveal'd,
And that open'd which was seal'd;
When to Thee I have appeal'd,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
poem by Robert Herrick
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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His Litany to the Holy Spirit
In the hour of my distress,
When temptations me oppress,
And when I my sins confess,
Sweet Spirit comfort me!
When I lie within my bed,
Sick in heart, and sick in head,
And with doubts discomforted,
Sweet Spirit comfort me!
When the house doth sigh and weep,
And the world is drown'd in sleep,
Yet mine eyes the watch do keep,
Sweet Spirit comfort me!
Whe the artless doctor sees
No one hope but of his fees,
And his skill runs on the lees,
Sweet Spirit comfort me!
When his potion and his pill,
Has or none or little skill,
Meet for nothing, but to kill,
Sweet Spirit comfort me!
When the passing-bell doth toll,
And the Furies in a shoal
Come to fright a parting soul,
Sweet Spirit comfort me!
When the tapers now burn blue,
And the comforters are few,
And that number more than true,
Sweet Spirit comfort me!
When the priest his last hath prayed,
And I nod to what is said,
'Cause my speech is now decayed,
Sweet Spirit comfort me!
When (God knows) I'm toss'd about,
Either with despair or doubt,
Yet before the glass be out,
Sweet Spirit comfort me!
When the Tempter me pursu'th
With the sins of all my youth,
And half damns me with untruth,
Sweet Spirit comfort me!
When the flames and hellish cries
Fright mine ears and fright mine eyes,
And all terrors me surprise,
Sweet Spirit comfort me!
When the Judgment is revealed,
And that open'd which was seal'd,
When to Thee I have appeal'd,
Sweet Spirit comfort me!
poem by Robert Herrick
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Litany to the Holy Spirit
IN the hour of my distress,
When temptations me oppress,
And when I my sins confess,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
When I lie within my bed,
Sick in heart and sick in head,
And with doubts discomforted,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
When the house doth sigh and weep,
And the world is drown'd in sleep,
Yet mine eyes the watch do keep,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
When the passing bell doth toll,
And the Furies in a shoal
Come to fright a parting soul,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
When the tapers now burn blue,
And the comforters are few,
And that number more than true,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
When the priest his last hath pray'd,
And I nod to what is said,
'Cause my speech is now decay'd,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
When, God knows, I'm toss'd about
Either with despair or doubt;
Yet before the glass be out,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
When the tempter me pursu'th
With the sins of all my youth,
And half damns me with untruth,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
When the flames and hellish cries
Fright mine ears and fright mine eyes,
And all terrors me surprise,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
When the Judgment is reveal'd,
And that open'd which was seal'd,
When to Thee I have appeal'd,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
poem by Robert Herrick
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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War on depression
Depression is a fight
Or a flight
Depression is a theif
That should be locked up
Depression steals...
Happiness
Motivation
Sleep
Your appetite
It steals your view on life
It steals how you view yourself
Sometimes it even steals your life
poem by Ferret Girl
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Open Book's Monologue (revisited the years later portion of part 16)
Maybe I'm the book, and maybe you're the reader
but who is you? is it not everyone
since I'm open, for all to point at laugh at, out of malice or for fun
because they know my thoughts, they know i love her? !
what did i do?
i never said i love you! ! !
how can they know?
how did i reap what i did now sow? !
The worst part
about being an open book,
is an open book can't close itself, can't have a heart
anyone can know all from just one look
there seems to be something wrong with being too open and honest
but it's too late a book can't close itself
can't move by its own accord to a shelf
an open book can never rest
so now I'm the book, so since im there just read
just read.... and watch my heart, my purpose, my soul, my life, me
watch.... watch them bleed
poem by David Knox
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Other
Under my bowels, yellow with smoke,
it waits.
Under my eyes, those milk bunnies,
it waits.
It is waiting.
It is waiting.
Mr. Doppelganger. My brother. My spouse.
Mr. Doppelganger. My enemy. My lover.
When truth comes spilling out like peas
it hangs up the phone.
When the child is soothed and resting on the breast
it is my other who swallows Lysol.
When someone kisses someone or flushes the toilet
it is my other who sits in a ball and cries.
My other beats a tin drum in my heart.
My other hangs up laundry as I try to sleep.
My other cries and cries and cries
when I put on a cocktail dress.
It cries when I prick a potato.
It cries when I kiss someone hello.
It cries and cries and cries
until I put on a painted mask
and leer at Jesus in His passion.
Then it giggles.
It is a thumbscrew.
Its hatred makes it clairvoyant.
I can only sign over everything,
the house, the dog, the ladders, the jewels,
the soul, the family tree, the mailbox.
Then I can sleep.
Maybe.
Anonymous submission.
poem by Anne Sexton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Eyes Wide Open
Your eyes are wide open, but yet you don’t see
All the love I have inside of me.
Eyes wide open, but you don’t look around
You don’t open your ears, you don’t hear a sound.
Eyes wide open but the beauties that surround you
Do not seem to exist.
Is it that your eyes on you are playing tricks?
Eyes wide open and yet you have a blank stare.
Have you closed off your mind?
Or you just don’t care.
What can I do to remove that haze
So that on my face you can gaze.
If I hold you tenderly in my arms
And kiss those beautiful eyes.
Will they move? Will they cry?
What must I do so that you can see
That our love was meant to be.
They say that you went deep inside yourself
To hide the hurt and pain
But without your love “ I am the same”.
Eyes wide open. Did they just glance at me?
Is it because your heart is finally free?
I see a tear forming in your eyes
Emotions being let out that you tried to hide.
Eyes wide open- now they are mine
I can see your love for the very first time.
poem by Louis Rams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Last Page
I always dread the last page in a book,
especially when the book was good.
So I close it up and put it aside
but some of those pages you can't hide.
They've become a memory to keep.
So the book just goes to sleep
for a while.
And some time in the future out it comes
just like a trusty old friend.
I open it up and start it once again
reading it from beginning to the end.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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De Little Pickaninny's Gone to Sleep
Cuddle down, ma honey, in yo' bed,
Go to sleep an' res' yo' little head,
Been a-kind o' ailin' all de day?
Didn't have no sperit fu' to play?
Never min'; to-morrer, w'en you wek,
Daddy's gwine to ride you on his bek,
'Roun' an' roun' de cabin flo' so fas'—
Der! He's closed his little eyes at las'.
De little pickaninny's gone to sleep,
Cuddled in his trundle bed so tiny,
De little pickaninny's gone to sleep,
Closed his little eyes so bright an' shiny.
Hush! an' w'en you walk across de flo'
Step across it very sof' an' slow.
De shadders all aroun' begin to creep,
De little pickaninny's gone to sleep.
Mandy, w'at's de matter wid dat chile?
Keeps a-sighin' ev'y little w'ile;
Seems to me I heayhd him sorter groan,
Lord! his little han's am col' as stone!
W'at's dat far-off light dat's in his eyes?
Dat's a light dey's borrow'd f'om de skies;
Fol' his little han's across his breas',
Let de little pickaninny res'.
poem by James Weldon Johnson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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