I can't Rest even When I Sleep
I can’t rest even when sleep. My dreams are replays of my day. When I got up in the morning I saw my old man cuddling an empty bottle of E&J. While my mom lies with a bag of thawed frozen peas on her eye which she used when they were frozen to sooth the pain my drunken ass dad gave her when he slapped her. Then there’s lunchtime while everyone else was eating some form of fast-food I choked downed a dry piece of stale raisin bread and nuke warm public water fountain water. Dinner time hell lunch was dinner and as for prime time TV the only thing I saw on must see TV was my old man and mom fighting until dad passed out same channel, same time ever night. I can’t rest even when I sleep. My dreams are a replay of my day.
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O, What A Short Story
From beginning to end it was a short tale
It follows like this, a once unspoken story
Dusk would come and we’d walk together
Down along the beach, we could stay for forever
The sand would squeeze between our toes
As we walked together, on the beach at dusk
Night would come and we’d eat together
Followed by talk of what the future would bring
A bundle of happiness, and a house together
We’d talk together, after eating dinner at night
Morning would come and we’d be off to work
What a night we’d had, but forgotten already
Fights would follow and a change would be made
We’d fight and fight, in the morning during work
By lunchtime the end would soon be near
Sick of the madness and unpredictable sadness
My bags would be packed before dinner came
I’d pack my bags, after lunch in sorrow
That dinner would be lonely, alone I’d eat
And I’d cry myself to sleep
Alone at a friends, a depression with no end
I’d finally sleep, after dinner I’d cry
My story would end at midnight that night
How could I bear to live, without my sweetheart?
I’d go peacefully in sleep, after taking those pills
I’d take my last breath, at midnight that night
poem by Alyssa Baker
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dinner Bell
Ive been leaving on my things
So in the morning when the morning bird sings
Theres still dinner on my dinner jacket
til the dinner bell rings
Experimental dog*
Salivating dog
Good dog
Waiting for the dinner bell to do the bell thing (waiting for the dinner bell)
Dinner bell dinner bell ring
Ive been leaving on my things
So in the morning when the morning bird sings
Theres still dinner on my dinner jacket
til the dinner bell rings
I dont want a pizza, I dont want a piece of (experimental dog)
Peanut brittle, I dont want a pear.
I dont want a bagel I dont want a bean I wouldnt like (salivating dog)
A bag of beef or a beer or a
Cup of chowder, corn, cake, or creamed cauliflower cause Im (good dog)
Waiting for the dinner bell to do the bell thing (waiting for the dinner bell)
Dinner bell dinner bell ring
Shoulder, bicep, elbow, arm
Forearm, thumb, wrist, knuckle, palm
Middle, pinky, index, ring
Dinner bell dinner bell ding
I dont know whether Id rather be having a bottle of vinegar (experimental dog)
I dont know whether Id rather be having an egg.
I dont know whether Id rather be having an order of bacon (salivating dog)
Or whether Id rather be having a basket of garlic bread.
I dont know whether Id rather be having some pie or (good dog)
Saving my appetite cause im
Waiting for the dinner bell to do the bell thing (waiting for the dinner bell)
Dinner bell dinner bell ring
Ive been leaving on my things (Ive been leaving on)
So in the morning when the morning bird sings (the morning)
Theres still dinner on my dinner jacket (on my)
til the dinner bell does the bell thing
Dinner bell dinner bell do the bell thing
Im waiting for the dinner bell to do the bell thing (waiting for the ding)
Dinner bell dinner bell ding ding ding
Waiting for the dinner bell to do the bell thing (waiting for the ding)
Dinner bell dinner bell ding ding ding
Waiting for the dinner bell to do the bell thing (waiting for the ding)
Dinner bell dinner bell ding
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Factrory Food
Factory Made Food.
A perfect microwave dinner for one
sunrays drink from the wine bottle
The dinner is tasteless,
and the rest of the wine is warm
as a cat licks its paw and has no worry
about the morrow.
Who invented tuna fish with mashed potatoes?
It must be someone without a mother,
or if he had one, she must have been
a busy executive and time poor.
At the orphanage they eat left over of dinners
they never had, forever made into a stew
children do not care; yester-days loaf.
He sits in his mansion, count his money and
think of other variety of frozen food he can
invented preferable something that looks
looks like vomit.
He is a vegetarian and hate mankind for
liking meat…he hates greedy little children too
even his own, serves them burger made of
fat full of sugar and salt.
Knows he will follow them to the grave and
be the longest living man on earth.
Who the hell drank my wine?
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Time
Where dose time really go once it has past
Time is time
Is there such a thing as bad timing
Why dose it fly when were having fun
And slow down when we want it to fly
Can you answer me
Can you tell me why
Dose time stand still
Time waits for no one
Travel in time machine
Dose time ever take time out
Time rules the world
From the time we raise to the time we sleep
We are paid for our
WE pay to use someone else's time
So time is money really
Time we spend together
A life time
We use time reading the times or time magazine
Can you tell me the time please
How many times would that have been said
Lunch time dinner time
My time your time
Your wasting time your wasting my time
Killing time i don't think so
We are running out of time
Race against time
loosing time
Making up for lost time
A bit of overtime
Time to go
My Dear Friend
Good morning
Get up the bed
Smile to love...
Eat break fast
Eat to love...
Work will be
Work to love...
Speak to your's
Familey members
And friend's to love
Eat lunch to love
Evening play to love
Take rest to love
Go to bed to love
Fuke will be do to love
Eat dinner to love
Sleep the bed too love
Do do love
Each every time to love
Not only today
Do every day too love...!
Good night
Bye kiss
With love your's friend...
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Early In November
Beneath the starry morning still and steady
Frost laid on the leaves
Frost laid on the dreams
And stayed till the sun beams
Its early in November
And there's no rain
Oh this terrible silence and frozen pain
Sleep clinging in the closets
Sleep creeping on the floors
Sleep climbing up the walls
And stays till the reality falls
It's early in November
And I can't remember
How long will i wait and slumber?
The sky begins to pale
The black reveals is blues so dull and stale
As the footsteps begun to jolt this abandoned trail
The heart bursts out into this silent wail
It's early in November
And there's no rain
Oh this terrible silence and frozen pain
poem by Falky Flakes
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March of the Wheelchairs
In Dakota land lunch is dinner
and dinner supper while lunch is lunch,
as traditions from farmlands go.
Now breakfast is at 6, lunch at 9
dinner at noon, lunch at 3
supper at 7, everything timed.
Day in and day out, better not be late.
Weather fickle, eating ain’t!
Farm traditions, genetics ‘grained.
No surprise, nursing meals,
wheelchairs marching, internal time,
largo moves, staccato fades.
Day in, day out…they’re not late
Wheelchairs marching, marching in
farm traditions, genetics ‘grained.
Weather fickle….eating ain’t!
Hope God keeps the schedule,
or has… a special dining hall.
As these Wheelchairs… arrive
Day and night.
What is a day for? Tell me so i may know.
Days are were we live, they come and wake us time and time over. They help us get our daily bread by pushing us through the crowd.
What is a night for? Tell me so i may know.
Night are where we rest, they come and they go. They put us to sleep time and time over, they rest us after a long day has accomodated us.
poem by Samuel Donkor
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The Feeling of Sleep
As I lay here in bed
The only thing I dread
Is when I wake up tomorrow
And wish for the feeling of sleep
As I finally rest form my long days of work
There is no more ache in my legs
As I lay in my cloud bed
I rest my head on nothing but air
As I drift in to sleep
It feels like happiness is in the air
I can’t feel my body
As I can only dream good dreams
For I love the feeling of sleep
As sleep hit its highest point
I’m no longer responsive
For this is the feeling of sleep
As I descend form my sleep
The ache comes back
as if I never fell asleep
seven hours has pass
but it felt like one hour
this the one thing
that I long for
and that is the feeling of sleep
Poem Writer,
By: Jackie Thielman
poem by Jackie Thielman
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Family Sweet Dreams
The moon dressed in her nightly attire
Showing only a glimpse of her crescent shape,
Heralds the nightly rest of sleeping mortals
Windows yellow darkens with curtain drape,
Smoke thins from the chimney portals
As a lonely dog howls at the locked door.
Midnight strikes silently as dreams begin
The cat purrs stretched out on the floor,
Mother dreams of holiday isles
Punting Father dreams of another winner,
The boy’s toys dreamt, stretch for miles
Labrador whimpers for a never ending dinner,
No way will the mouse dream to please
He creeps past the snoozing fat cat,
To search and seize crumbs of cheese
The end of the chain knows where his dinner is at,
Crawling in with knife and fork in hand
The cockroach to the kitchen silent and fast,
As sleepers dream, .....Goes for dinner so grand,
As night ticks on the morning wakes to the alarm clock blast.
Dreams at end the family jump out of bed
Another day alive another night is dead.
poem by Ken e Hall
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Cope
She needed to sleep, sleep for a little,
to see him, feel him, hear him say.
Come lovely, come and rest your
head on my pillow, She had to rest,
rest of her own self, of her many
miseries that shattered her dreams.
But how to rest? or dream a sweet dream.
To wake up to an empty bed, with nothing
but his scent, his last touch, his last sleep,
his last words, and his last kisses. She adorned
her bed with broken sadness, dropping
her tears, and picking up more for the next day.
Her veins draining a river of pain. Her heart all
weary with multiple wounds. Her will refrained
from hope, her feelings with fears,
to love another man, and die all over again.
poem by Elenushka Toledo
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Because I Cannot Sleep Tonight
because i cannot sleep tonight
i have to pay the price
my morning and noon tomorrow
shall be my night
and the whole day i will sleep too
not speaking to anyone
not having breakfast
and lunch
another dinner for one on a candle light
they will all be sleeping
and i will be working
like a vampire have i become
thirsting for blood
wanting more flesh
shying away from the ordinary hustle and bustle
of this world
i wake up when everyone sleeps
i sleep when everyone wakes up
and soon they will all complain
and bury me
alive
because i have refused to learn how i must live
with them
and of course, they will not like it, tomorrow morning
the rules will be posted in the ref
they know i still need a drink, and the cold water
is stored in the ref
they are away on a trip, and they will wait
as always.......wanting to understand, wishing that i change....
i am still thinking, if i better get lost and be not found forever
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Prime Time Of Our Lives
It's the prime time of our lives
And I've never seen us more alive
Now that the night has finally arrived
I'm looking for some fun and to survive
Join hands with me
We'll slow down the time
We'll dance the last song
The prime time of our lives is here in this time for us now
When you reach a certain point in your life
You better push it to the extremes
And that's what we're doing
We're celebrating dreams
We're living dreams
We're creating new dreams
In the prime time of our lives
The time is now
In our choices
In what we thought
In what we bought
In what we've got
Thank god for now
It's the prime time of our lives
poem by Justin Gildow
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Thank God For The Bomb
Like moths to a flame
Is man never gonna change
Times seen untold aggression
And infliction of pain
If thats the only thing thats stopping war
Then thank God for the bomb
Thank God for the bomb
Thank God for the bomb
Thank God for the bomb
Nuke ya nuke ya
War is just another game
Tailor made for the insane
But make a threat of their annihilation
And nobody wants to play
If thats the only thing that keeps the peace
Then thank God for the bomb
Thank God for the bomb
Thank God for the bomb
Thank God for the bomb
Nuke ya nuke ya
Today was tommorow yesterday
Its funny how the time can slip away
The face of the doomsday clock
Has launched a thousand wars
As we near the final hour
Time is the only foe we have
When war is obsolete
Ill thank God for wars defeat
But any talk about hell freezing over
Is all said with tongue in cheek
Until the day the war drums beat no more
Ill thank God for the bomb
Thank God for the bomb
Thank God for the bomb
Thank God for the bomb
Nuke ya nuke ya
song performed by by Ozzy Osbourne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Christmas Day At The Bunkhouse (Fun Poem 47)
It was Christmas day at the bunkhouse
everyone had sat down for a meal
when through the door walked a goat.
He stood and looked around,
then continued to eat an artichoke.
When he finished he sat and asked for a drink,
someone got up and gave him a bowel of water.
The goat looked at the offering with disgust.
Ain’t you got anything stronger that that?
Of course, we have, came the reply.
Well pour me out some the goats said,
and put some mud in my eye.
Someone had some scotch whiskey
and took the bottle out,
then gave the goat a dram.
The goat sniffed it, and then downed it
all in one swallow.
He then asked for more
saying his legs were still hollow.
Another dram was poured
and everyone was amazed to see,
an upside down goat
drinking a bottle of scotch whiskey.
The goat drank all day
and it drank all night.
The lights went out
and the old goat went to sleep.
He dreamed of himself
floating out the door
and all the way to heaven,
but when he got there,
St Peter wouldn’t let him in.
He said God will not tolerate
any drunken old goats here,
so you had better go back
and sleep it off, Billy.
Then put up a sign on the door.
No drunken old goats allowed,
signed by you know who.
You could always try
beneath the basement floor
he’ll greet you with a smile
and a shovel,
even make you hot and warm.
The moral of this story
whether you’re a goat or a man.
Don’t drink too much;
you could end up
jumping from the frying pan
and straight into the fire,
the one that they keep burning
permanently beneath the basement floor.
poem by David Harris
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Dream Land
Where sunless rivers weep
Their waves into the deep,
She sleeps a charmed sleep:
Awake her not.
Led by a single star,
She came from very far
To seek where shadows are
Her pleasant lot.
She left the rosy morn,
She left the fields of corn,
For twilight cold and lorn
And water springs.
Through sleep, as through a veil,
She sees the sky look pale,
And hears the nightingale
That sadly sings.
Rest, rest, a perfect rest
Shed over brow and breast;
Her face is toward the west,
The purple land.
She cannot see the grain
Ripening on hill and plain;
She cannot feel the rain
Upon her hand.
Rest, rest, for evermore
Upon a mossy shore;
Rest, rest at the heart's core
Till time shall cease:
Sleep that no pain shall wake;
Night that no morn shall break
Till joy shall overtake
Her perfect peace.
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti (1893)
Submitted by anonym
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Dream-Land
Where sunless rivers weep
Their waves into the deep
She sleeps a charmed sleep:
Awake her not.
Led by a single star,
She came from very far
To seek where shadows are
Her pleasant lot.
She left the rosy morn,
She left the fields of corn,
For twilight cold and lorn
And water springs.
Through sleep, as through a veil,
She sees the sky look pale,
And hears the nightingale
That sadly sings.
Rest, rest, a perfect rest
Shed over brow and breast;
Her face is toward the west,
The purple land.
She cannot see the grain
Ripening on hill and plain;
She cannot feel the rain
Upon her hand.
Rest, rest, for evermore
Upon a mossy shore;
Rest, rest at the heart's core
Till time shall cease:
Sleep that no pain shall wake;
Night that no morn shall break
Till joy shall overtake
Her perfect peace.
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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For life
Eat not
Un wanted time...
Morining
Break fast...
Afternoon lunch...
Night dinner...
Ok...
Evening eat some thing...
Bed time eat some thing...
Travel time eat something...
Eat than... eat...
Above 40 years not good...
You are become a patent...
Eat limit...
Earn un limit...
Enjoy to longleave...
It is good...for
Not only your's health...
Your life also....!
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Sonnet LXXXI
And now you're mine. Rest with your dream in my dream.
Love and pain and work should all sleep, now.
The night turns on its invisible wheels,
and you are pure beside me as a sleeping amber.
No one else, Love, will sleep in my dreams. You will go,
we will go together, over the waters of time.
No one else will travel through the shadows with me,
only you, evergreen, ever sun, ever moon.
Your hands have already opened their delicate fists
and let their soft drifting signs drop away; your eyes closed like two gray
wings, and I move
after, following the folding water you carry, that carries
me away. The night, the world, the wind spin out their destiny.
Without you, I am your dream, only that, and that is all.
poem by Pablo Neruda
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I Wish Him Age
I wish him a being of age that strings along the time,
Temptations enter to bend the aroma of food;
A chief sentiment is explored, followed by food,
And more eating rituals - stunts of the period.
Cry and stop, wish and drop, the dinner and lunch
Shall manage you with health, and as the wealth is adorable
We clasp the food with talons and fit inside the shell.
This shell breaks and causes me to be dust,
Flying like a human is being an age that conquers time,
For time is a great provider of wealth and the full exploration.
poem by Naveed Akram
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