En.Citatepedia^®.ro

All Fetal.....

after i have written so much
the night will be deep and dark
and then when i go into the room
it will be so silent
that i can hear the whisking of a
bug on the floor
on the rug

and she will be soundly asleep
tightly curled
around herself

the bed is wide and the blanket is thick
the sound of the night wind is not that horrible
as i may have thought that much

the light is dim and
the room smells significantly nothing
like artificial orange or a fake
lemon

i too shall curl inside myself
cover everything in me with that separate thick blanket
and take my much needed sleep

it is a very late hour and the hands of the clock are tired

and the light will be completely turned off in such a way
that i see nothing at all

not even feeling that i have a soul

this is what we are now
all genetically
fetal.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Summer Nights

Oh, how I hate these hot summer nights,
When a good night's sleep is far from sight.
Lying on my bed, I constantly toss and turn,
While the air around me continuously burns.

My window is slightly ajar to let in some air;
I wonder if I'd be slightly cooler downstairs.
I have rolled down my blanket and my sheet,
But despite doing all this, I still feel the heat.

I watch the clock and the time ticks on by,
But, I just can't sleep, however hard I try.
Feeling restless in the middle of the night,
I climb out of bed and switch on the light.

Feeling so far away from the Land Of Nod,
I sit reading a book and then I play my iPod.
I'm having a bad night, and am not impressed:
I didn't sleep much last night, and need my rest.

As the night draws on, slightly cooler air arrives,
But, by this time, the clock has just struck five.
I hear the little birds singing out at dawn,
And it is only then that I give a big yawn.

My eyelids feel heavy and begin to close,
And, after sleepless hours, I begin to doze.
Finally, I fall asleep: inside my soul feels calm,
But a short time later, I'm woken by the alarm.

By now, my room is flooded by brilliant sunlight;
But I want to stay in bed, with my eyes shut tight.
I feel like I'm almost dead, rather than refreshed;
I certainly don't feel anywhere near my very best.

I don't have much energy: I've no get up and go,
And when I do get up, my movements are slow.
I wish that the temperature at night would dip,
Then I could finally get some much needed kip.

poem by Angela Wybrow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Interactive Poetry

when i wake up this morning
sleep is still sleeping
and i slip out of the blanket
not to disturb sleep which
is still soundly snoring

last night we did not pretend
that we were two dead people
sleep was tightly curled upon itself
its arms were not around me
and i could not remember anymore
exactly
whatever happened
to me
or us
if there ever be

this morning
sleep is dead
and i survive
to meet another face of death
in the kitchen
and also in the rest room

and also outside the house
into the road and in the office
where i am working

there are so many faces of death
in my own world
and i am not the loyal subject of sleep
which is death's younger sister
neither am i a friend of death
nor its foe

for out of this everyday encounter
death becomes nothing
but another furniture in the hall
another rock in the garden
part of the numerous leaves in the air
one of those many ' its'
that does not
really disturb me anymore

tonight i will sleep with sleep again
(it is dead and unburied)

i do not name sleep for you
since i too does not know about its true details
or identity
its name its age
when it was born
though i know exactly when it really died
as i have already told you

and what totally is it exactly
the whole truth about its snores and sleep walks and talks
its secrets inside those thick blankets

for in truth in this journey
we sleep with sleep
most of the time
(do i hear ninety percent approving?)

we do not know much of it anyway
or frankly
much less
perhaps

at any rate
(and this may have bored you
to an ending that
bears no significance to your present work)

how can we be interested with such an ordinary matter
that occurs
every minute of the hour?

and what is it that is really worth
writing and
understanding in this world
that does not listen?
(do i hear 95% of you screaming?)

poem by Sebastian Soberania
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Sleep And Snore

the sounds of its steps
arrive inside the room
on the silence of the blanket
white and thick
on the hum of the night breeze
from the sea
sleep begins to snore

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Last Night I Was Talking To Myself

last night i was talking to myself
asking and making answers
like the way i make a knot and
then untie them from a cemented
post at the port
so that the wooden boat
may finally be let loose
and be free to sail
to its chosen destination

the sea was so wide
like all seas that you have seen
but the night was so dark
like no other

last night i was formulating solutions
to a very common problem
like how to cure a cold
with just a glass of water
like how to appease the coldness
of a room with nothing but
a piece of a woolen blanket
and curling feet and
hiding hands in my pocket
so i can have the exact warmth
so i may finally have my much
needed sleep and
dream about the peace
between the clouds
and the stars

last night i could not sleep
and you are beside me
last night i opened the window
of our room while you
were there snoring
last night i was silently
talking about the absence of
stars the loss of the moon

and then the rain fell
heavily on the roof of this house
and then i closed the windows
and then i listened to every sound
and then i noticed a faint light coming
from a leak of these walls

i know
another morning has finally
come
it is broken they say.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

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
Vote! | Copy!

What Mother Tells Me

she is always the first to wake up in the house
as she prays the rosary
and father follows to check the carabao on the side
of the hill and transfer it to a greener pasture

while we their children are still asleep
always wanting more sleep on those cold days
curled in our bed covered with thick blankets
and soft pillows on our heads and our ears all covered up
against the sound of the kitchen
our eyes hiding from the light of the morning sun

and mother pulls my blanket
and takes my arm and hugs me and tells me

wake up! wake up! the night is over
go to the river and take your bath

there is no one on your side now
the rest have gone to their respective tasks

wake up! wake up! my son
go and clean yourself and face the day because
the night is over

and these words still cling to my ears:
the night is over
and another one will be coming

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

My Dark Room

Time has ended so I lay
The end to a very painful day
I lay silent with nothing to say
Here in my dark room

With eyes open I can hardly see
Staring at the ceiling thinking of me
Wondering in the future what I will be
Here in my dark room

Will I still have my dark room
The place where there is peace
Or will I feel deceased
In a new dark room

But maybe when the night turns to shine
I won’t feel so but feel fine
Until night when I come back and whine
Here is my dark room

Now it is late I can’t see no more
My arm falls and drops to the floor
The liquid dreams in my head start to pour
Here is my dark room

poem by Paul Celano
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

An Old Man Cannot Sleep At Three O'Clock At Night Erev Chanukah 5770

AN OLD MAN CANNOT SLEEP AT THREE O’CLOCK AT NIGHT EREV CHANUKAH 5770

An old man cannot sleep at three o’clock at night
The dark night is not the night of his soul,
He knows morning and light will come.

He is old
But he believes in a new day,
Every new day
Has its light and its surprises
Life difficult and not
Is always a new story.

Let us deep in the night,
Dream always of the day
And even in our old age
Hope and hope again
For the light which will come.

poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

I Bought You A Rose

the problem is
the grandfather clock
in the adjacent room
it chimes
on the hour
every hour
through the night
it keeps me awake
through the night
the night in which
i think of you
because
i hold the rose
in my hand
through the night
the rose that i bought you
in the afternoon
the rose that you did not want
in the evening
the evening when i took you out
and you said
you did not want the rose
you wanted it to be over between us
you said it was no use
a rose was no use
a rose could not
bring us together
a rose could not
keep us together
a rose by any other name
is still just a rose
you said
i should keep my rose
you said
you said it when i offered you the rose
you said it again
when the evening was over
when we left each other
and so i took it home
the rose that i bought you
i thought of you
on my way home
with the rose
i thought of how it had been
between us
i thought of how it might have been
between us
i tried to forget
how it had been
between us
i tried to forget
how it might have been
between us
but the rose reminded me
how it was
between us
i took the rose with me
when i got into bed
when i tried to sleep
it had been deep red
but it seemed to me
now it was not so deep red
as it had been before
each time i woke
i looked at the rose
each time it seemed
not so deep red
as it had been before
each time it seemed
a little more faded
a little more dry
a little less red
a little less fresh
each time
its scent also
had been beautiful
like you were beautiful
its scent also seemed to me
a little more faded
a little less fresh
a little less beautiful
a little less able
to evoke you
a little less able
to keep you
to keep your memory
alive
alive in the night
even when i turned on the light
to look again
at the rose
to inhale again
the perfume of the rose
i saw it fading
i saw you fading
i saw your beauty fading
through the night
and i saw that you were right
about the rose
that a rose is just a rose
that a rose could not
bring us together
that a rose could not
keep us together
that a rose by any other name
is still just a rose
that you by any other name
are still just a rose
fading through the night
i cannot keep you
for i cannot keep you
from fading through the night
like this rose i bought you
like any rose
like anything i ever bought you

the problem is
the grandfather clock
in the adjacent room
it chimes
on the hour
every hour
through the night

poem by Rory Hudson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Ode to her skin

i want to walk out into the night
and cross the two streets
between us
I'll sneak into your room
and turn on every electric light.

light will be everywhere, filling the corners -
from the ceiling, from your desk, up from the floor
beside your bed, out of the fishbowl,
light light light light dribbling down the walls and
puddling into the folds of your warm blanket.

then,
when i can look at you from every bright angle,
I'll find you a new name,
something that fits close to the skin;
smooth, sleek, low cut
something, anything but
'beautiful' -

poem by Marie Love
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Stay Warmed

love
money
truth

whichever of them you get a lot
you'll see some room not being covered with blanket

the area that you can cover with the blanket is limited

important how you deal with the room of your feelings

poem by Wabi Sabi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Marriage

in one house
they live
as married couple

she sings her videoke
in the sala
he works on his poems
in the computer room

and when the clock strikes
eleven
on such an unholy hour
she stops singing not to
disturb sleeping neighbors

he still writes poetry
till midnight

and when he
goes to bed she is now soundly asleep

and they sleep together
safe in love
that now
does not depend on the physical

but on the music and the poem
on the rhythm and the rhyme
both of them
in their 20 years of marriage
have become
one poem one music

that sex, which was once so good
is now put in another light

both curl up in the cold night
she is the song
& he is the poem

and they are still
one
after all those years
as marriage tells them from the beginning when they all said

'yes, i do'.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

My Dark Dreams

I'm in the dark
And I'm lost
In my mind, screaming
Through the empty
Space, filled with no light
All I hear is my echo

I listen and hear the echo
Of silent breaking through the dark
Nothingness that consumes any light
That I don't see, in this lost
Place of empty
Dreaming, in which I scream

Soon as it stops, the screaming
High painful cry, and the echo
Fades, leaving me again in the empty
Hallow thoughts of my dark
Sleep, and wander through my mind lost
Of what I had, it was my light

What I had was like a warm light
That held me from the bitter screaming
Of the cold, it found me when I was lost
It covered me like a blanket, and echoed
Through my soul, with it I was never in the dark
And never left empty

Now, in my sleep, I am empty
The warm blanket of hte light
No longer holds me, but exposes me to the dark
And painful piercing screams
Of my own voice echoing
In my nightmares of what I've lost

I am lost
In the emptiness
Of my own pain, that echoes
Through me, and all I want again is the light
For it I scream
In my dreams, but all I get in the dark

I dream of the dark and I'm lost
My screaming is only heard by the empty
Space in my mind, where light shined, but there is only echo.

poem by Nicole Hiebing
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Red And Orange

Ther's a red house,
Inside there's an orange door.
Beside that there's a red carpet,
On top of an orange floor.
There's a red table,
Below an orange ceiling.
Upstairs there's a red bed,
Inside an orange room.
There's a couple of red people sleeping soundly,
Next door two orange ones too.
Outside there's a red truck,
No one knows what to do.
I don't see the proble,
Why don't you leave us all alone.
But now I see the red more clearly,
And I know what's done is done.
And I'll float away with the cloudy smoke,
Before the inevertable happens and I start to choke.
Good bye red house,
So long orange door.
I'm going for a long sleep noe,
Six feet under the floor.

poem by Sam Price
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Sleep

When my mom came
Inside my room
I was under a blanket
And water smooth on window panes
Was trickling in the rain
The candles burned
When the wax curled
And fell on my mom's finger
And softly I
Without a sound
Sat up inside my bed
And put my finger onto hers
And calmly I just said,
'You mustn't weep
You mustn't cry
For daddy didn't really die.
He's waiting for us in his room
He will wake up
next afternoon
I promise you, he's
here alright
Along with us,
not out of sight
Not in the heavens,
Or in the ground
He's sleeping,
sweetly,
Safe and sound.
Believe me, mama
He's alive.
You mustn't cry
You mustn't weep,
I swear I heard him.
He's just... asleep.

poem by Sasha Ioffine
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

I Drove All Night

I had to escape
The city was sticky and cruel
Maybe I should have called you first
But I was dying to get to you
I was dreaming while I drove
The long straight road ahead, uh, huh
Could taste your sweet kisses
Your arms open wide
This fever for you is just burning me up inside
I drove all night to get to you
Is that alright
I drove all night
Crept in your room
Woke you from your sleep
To make love to you
Is that alright
I drove all night
What in this world
Keeps us from tearing apart
No matter where I go I hear
The beating of our one heart
I think about you
When the night is cold and dark
No one can move me
The way that you do
Nothing erases the feeling between me and you
I drove all night to get to you
Is that alright
I drove all night
Crept in your room
Woke you from your sleep
To make love to you
Is that alright
I drove all night
Could taste your sweet kisses
Your arms open wide
This fever for you is just burning me up inside
I drove all night to get to you
Is that alright
I drove all night
Crept in your room
Is that alright
I drove all night
I drove all night to get to you
Is that alright
I drove all night
Crept in your room
Woke you from your sleep

song performed by by Celine Dion
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

Blanket

Let not vanish the oversea service
With wool soft,
As the flash of fire-worms.
On the blue blanket,
‘Made in Korea’ printed,
Made Korean hands immortal,
But ‘SHEEP’ written nowhere.

As December threatened with mist,
Blanket kept me warm.
My soul shuddered a night,
Shaken by the fever storm,
And I crept tired,
Under blanket refugee like,
Then a Paracetamol pill lulled me.

Under the woolly blanket,
Bloom dreams amorous
At silvered fragrant night:
Entangled tender branches,
Then did chit bud fresh,
Within the folds unruly
Of the blanket blue.

Simple sheep on hillock grazed,
Giving wool great,
Eternal changed:
Things simple so changed great.
Evil showers heavily,
Earth is frozen,
And need a blanket to warm up.

poem by Fabiyas M V
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The Night Is A Good Listener

The night is a good listener
How I wonder how huge its ears are,
How deep its patience in the silence
Of an ocean floor, how wide its embrace,
Like a cool thick forest, like a coiling river,
As though time does not even exist,

The night is listening to me
Intently, like I were her only son,
Because the rest of her servants and mistresses
Are all asleep,
She is so silent, in tiptoes, in a hush,
This night, I can hear how the ants crawl for crumbs,
How the lizards run and play & catch its prey on the ceiling,
How the prey on the other hand, struggles to escape,
How the air gushes on the window pane,
How the whispers of my heart sound like
Some dews dropping on some soft green blades of grass,
Indeed night is so patient, so ever silent,
Though sleepy, it gazes in me, trying to
Understand what all these silent conversation is all about,
The night understands, lip-reading my thoughts,
Listening intently, the night sits, and
Now, signals for an embrace, with arms and heart wide open
Some of her tears are starting to fall.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

In My Room

I stand alone and watch the clock
I only wait for it to stop
And in the room locked up inside me
The cutout magazines remind me
I sit and wait alone in my room
And in my room against the wall
There is picture very small
A photograph I took some years ago
It shows a picture of the room I know
I sit and wait alone in my room
Chorus
The walls are white and in the night
The room is lit by electric light
I stand and watch the clock
I only wait for it to stop
The doors are shut and all the windows lock
The only sound is from the clock
I sit and wait alone in my room
Repeat chorus

song performed by by Yaz
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!