Dormant Days And Inactive Nights
even if there is no way
for sleep to sleep in the couch
in the bed
the body tries to find
rest... no way, no way,
a whisper is heard in the ear
there is no way out
from here
there is this sound of despair
the music of
hopelessness
you who probably hear it
tonight
in these dormant hours
think that the notes
are divine
you who soundly lies on the sofa
of your
drunken feats
probably cannot distinguish
what is not there
anymore
i am shattered
but there will be no pieces
to piece
to make whole
i fly without wings
like air
you cannot see what is real.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
I'm Losing Sleep Again
Sleep soundly, dear
And do not dream
The nightmares I dream
Sleep soundly, dear
And do not cry
When you wake up to reality
Sleep soundly, dear
And do not believe
You have woken up already
Sleep soundly, dear
And do not stop sleepwalking
Take things slow and steady
Sleep soundly, dear
And do not pretend
I'm sleeping soundly, dear friend
Sleep soundly, dear
And do not lament over
Why I’m losing sleep myself
Sleep soundly, dear
And do not leave me
When you wake up to reality
poem by Dyhanara Rios
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Only In Sleep (An Attempt To Be Relevant)
only in sleep
shall i make love with you
only in sleep
shall you caress my body
only in sleep
shall this love have
mutuality
only in sleep
shall we two become one
only in sleep
shall passion be
only in sleep
can i be true
after this sleep
one takes the mask again
dresses up for the
coming hours
well poised and respected
one meets lies with lies
quick as a sparrow
meek as a dove
but foxy still
with all your wiles
only in sleep
shall we all be weak
only in sleep
shall love
be love
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Mozart Overture
this is quite different from
a trance
the music that curled in my sleep
on that soft blue sofa
foam, cotton, kapok softness
on my head some notes of
a lullaby
some notes getting into
my ears and my nostrils
a deep sleep
inhaling
this overture is quite different
it is the rising from this deep sleep of
kapok,
foamy softness
i rise and
stretch my hands to the ceiling
i wake up and
i hear
the notes come again like
dripping morning rain
from the nipa roof
falling on
some white pebbles
on my pavement
like my tears
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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118
mozart overture
this is quite different from
a trance
the music that curled in my sleep
on that soft blue sofa
foam, cotton, kapok softness
on my head some notes of
a lullaby
some notes getting into
my ears and my nostrils
a deep sleep
inhaling
this overture is quite different
it is the rising from this deep sleep of
kapok,
foamy softness
i rise and
stretch my hands to the ceiling
i wake up and
i hear
the notes come again like
dripping morning rain
from the nipa roof
falling on
some white pebbles
on my pavement
like my tears
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
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Be My Friend Tonight
I threw a party. nobody came.
I bought all the tickets. they cancelled the game.
I give you my picture. it didnt fit your frame
Be my friend tonight
Be my friend tonight. be my friend tonight.
Ill sleep on the couch. you can leave on that light.
Well, I wont do nothing wrong till you say its right
Come on honey, be my friend tonight
Now you bring the glasses and Ill bring the wine
Ill rub your shoulders just like they were mine
I wont make no passes till its passing time
If youre only gonna be my buddy tonight
Be my friend tonight. be my friend tonight.
Ill sleep on the couch. you can leave on that light.
Well, I wont do nothing wrong till you say its right
Come on darling, be my friend tonight
Well, Ill mind my manners. my ps and qs
I wont give you nothing that you cant use
Ill whip out that old guitar and sing you the blues
Be my friend tonight
Be my friend tonight. be my friend tonight.
Ill sleep on the couch. you can leave on that light.
Well, I wont do nothing wrong till you say its right
Come on honey, be my friend tonight
Be my friend tonight. be my friend tonight.
Ill sleep on the couch. you can leave on that light.
Well, I wont do nothing wrong till you say its right
Come on darling, be my friend tonight
Oh, come on honey, be my friend tonight
Please, be my friend tonight.
song performed by by John Prine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The singing in god's acre
Out yonder in the moonlight, wherein God's Acre lies,
Go angels walking to and fro, singing their lullabies.
Their radiant wings are folded, and their eyes are bended low,
As they sing among the beds whereon the flowers delight to grow,--
"Sleep, oh, sleep!
The Shepherd guardeth His sheep.
Fast speedeth the night away,
Soon cometh the glorious day;
Sleep, weary ones, while ye may,
Sleep, oh, sleep!"
The flowers within God's Acre see that fair and wondrous sight,
And hear the angels singing to the sleepers through the night;
And, lo! throughout the hours of day those gentle flowers prolong
The music of the angels in that tender slumber-song,--
"Sleep, oh, sleep!
The Shepherd loveth His sheep.
He that guardeth His flock the best
Hath folded them to His loving breast;
So sleep ye now, and take your rest,--
Sleep, oh, sleep!"
From angel and from flower the years have learned that soothing song,
And with its heavenly music speed the days and nights along;
So through all time, whose flight the Shepherd's vigils glorify,
God's Acre slumbereth in the grace of that sweet lullaby,--
"Sleep, oh, sleep!
The Shepherd loveth His sheep.
Fast speedeth the night away,
Soon cometh the glorious day;
Sleep, weary ones, while ye may,--
Sleep, oh, sleep!"
poem by Eugene Field
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Jennifers Body
I know it, I can feel it
Well, I know it enough to believe it
And I know it, I cant see it
But I know it enough to believe it
Bitter you, bitter me
My better half has bitten me
Bitter you, bitter me
Sleeping with my enemy
Myself
Myself
The pieces of jennifers body
Found pieces of jennifers body
Found pieces of jennifers body
Just relax, just relax, just go to sleep
Just relax, just relax, just go to sleep
Youre hungry, but Im starving
He cuts you down from the tree
He keeps you in a box by the bed
Alive, but just barely
He said, Im your lover, Im your friend
Im pure and he hits me again
With a bullet, number one, kill the family, save the son
Himself
Himself
The pieces of jennifers body
Found pieces of jennifers body
Found pieces of jennifers body
Just relax, just relax, just go to sleep
Just relax, just relax, just go to sleep
song performed by by Hole
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Nighttime Envy
I spend most nights
envious
until the wee hours of morn;
watching
the subtle changes of your face
as you are mentally carried
from one dreamscape
to another.
Did you know I want to sleep like you do?
If only I could sleep like you do…
I lie here each night
jealous
through the darkened hours,
listening
to noises which accompany sleep;
your mumbled words,
your slow intake of breath,
your sighs.
I wish I could sleep like you do. Eh?
If only I could sleep like you do…
I stay here beside you
desirous
of the rest you find with ease.
Until, Finally!
As the sun peeks above the earth,
my eyes leaden with sleep
and, At Last! , I too
am allowed to dream.
poem by Jennifer ParksNolan as LeJenD'Poet
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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On The Couch
Come on, baby
Don't make me sleep on the couch
Love Jones is on the TV again, baby
Eye wanna go down south, yeah
Oh come on, baby
It's undignified 2 sleep alone
That's what all the people that
Ain't got nobody do -
Talkin' on the telephone
Don't make me crash
Don't make me sleep
Without Ur kiss
Tossin' and-a-turnin'
With every inch of me yearnin'
Don't make me, don't make me
Don't cha make me, don't cha make me
Don't cha make me suffer this
Eye know we agreed...
Eye know we agreed 2 b married
U shouldn't have let me unzip Ur dress
Why'd U do it, baby?
Confess U tease
Unless U please
Don't make me, don't make me
Sleep on the couch
song performed by by Prince
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Silent Dreams
Oh to have silence come into my sleep
Just for a few small hours.
But no the noisy words disrupt me
Like bees buzzing ‘round the flowers.
Small phrases get caught in my head
And become pictures that I see.
And I know they are only in my dreams
But they repeat continuously.
Take leave I say and allow me rest.
Please find another one
To keep awake with words and sound
Before the morning sun/
What lies beyond these countless nights?
Is there silence anywhere?
I've heard that beyond unconsciousness
That telepathy makes us aware.
And so am I in search of death you ask?
No that's not what I now seek.
Just a little silent sleep at night
Even if it's just for a week.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Havana Gang Brawl
Well the cops are at the door
And you know that they want more
They've got spears, made for arms
Tried to lure you with their charms
You can hear the guns outside
Watching riots with their eyes
As you move from wall to wall
Hear the siren from the gang brawl
Line the locals one by one
Filling bullets with their guns
Are you red, or if you're blue
Cause tonight their gonna find the truth
Take no prisoners today
For the future will be laid
One big city, one big town
Everyone with the same crown
Havana Gang Brawl
Havana Gang Brawl
Havana Gang Brawl
Oh where will you sleep tonight?
Oh where will you sleep tonight?
A doomed old day for engagements
They have torn up your arrangements
All the mothers, buying razors
For the future will be dangerous
You try desperately to leave
But all the trains are dry for steam
All the taxis on their sides
All the planes are burning bright
Havana Gang Brawl
Havana Gang Brawl
Havana Gang Brawl
Oh where will you sleep tonight?
Oh where will you sleep tonight?
Only one option left
To survive or you'll be dead
Do you hide now from the sin
Or do your blazing guns begin?
All the shops are up for sale
You might make it out on bail
All the fathers shine today
Making sure that son's ok
Havana Gang Brawl
Havana Gang Brawl
Havana Gang Brawl
Oh where will you sleep tonight?
Oh where will you sleep tonight?
Oh where will you sleep tonight?
Oh where will you sleep tonight?
song performed by by Zutons
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Familiarity With The World, Finally....
no place does not give you a distraction
the sound of the machine that lingers in the air and pierces your ear
it will always be there
the sound of engines
more cruel than thunder
and folding waves of the storms at sea
bigger than houses
shall always meet you straight in the eye
deeper in your mind
there seems to be no peaceful place of the leaves and
grass
where you can rest your body where your soul finds an imaginary
home
where the heart can sleep and dream
there seems to be none
and so you run and run as fast as you can to find it
but the running even if it does not stop
finds no such place
and hopeless then
you rest upon a field of destructive sounds and then begin to
accept them as they are
the mad cry of the baby, the heated exchange of hate between
couples, the war of governments and people,
all these are very real
are becoming spots in your skin
your very own shadow that goes with you everywhere you go
you too, is that sound of anger and despair
this is the world
this is your place
now, you must learn what is this all about
rest your head upon the madness of the crowd
sleep amidst the chaos
this is finally what we call as home
yes, a home in a very crowded mall, in a very narrow path
towards a broken door, that slanted room.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Work, Sleep, Work, Sleep, Work
Work, sleep, work, sleep,
Work, sleep, work, sleep,
Work, sleep, work, sleep,
Work:
Work, sleep, work, sleep,
Work, sleep, work, sleep,
Work, sleep, work, sleep,
Work.
Oh free me please with gentle ease
From work, sleep, work, sleep, work!
This odium, pounding tedium
Of my work, sleep, work, sleep, work.
Just whisk me off to lands afar
From work, sleep, work, sleep, work -
That grinding train of rhythmic pain
Called ‘Work, sleep, work, sleep, work.’
Poor neural circuits fizzle and pop
In work, sleep, work, sleep, work,
In trying to make some sense of all this
Work, sleep, work, sleep, work.
But Hark! I see a golden gleam -
A saving spirit of hope:
‘You’re fired! ’ He screams. What news to bear,
This wondrous hangman’s rope!
So now I’m free, released from all this
Work, sleep, work, sleep, work -
Eternal peace and rest for me, no
Work, sleep, work, sleep, work.
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Grind
In the darkest hole, youd be well advised
Not to plan my funeral before the body dies, yeah
Come the morning light, its a see through show
What you may have heard and what you think you know, yeah
Let the sun never blind your eyes
Let me sleep so my teeth dont grind
Hear a sound from a voice inside
Sure to play a part, so you love the game
And in truth your lies become one and same, yeah
I could set you free, rather hear the sound
Of your body breaking as I take you down, yeah
Let the sun never blind your eyes
Let me sleep so my teeth dont grind
Hear a sound from a voice inside
In the darkest hole, youd be well advised
Not to plan my funeral before the body dies, yeah
Let the sun never blind your eyes
Let me sleep so my teeth dont grind (2x)
Hear a sound from a voice inside
song performed by by Alice In Chains
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er,
Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er,
Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking:
Dream of battled fields no more,
Days of danger, nights of waking.
In our isle's enchanted hall,
Hands unseen thy couch are strewing,
Fairy strains of music fall,
Every sense in slumber dewing.
Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er,
Dream of fighting fields no more:
Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking,
Morn of toil, nor night of waking.
No rude sound shall reach thine ear,
Armour's clang, or war-steed champing,
Trump nor pibroch summon here
Mustering clan, or squadron tramping.
Yet the lark's shrill fife may come
At the day-break from the fallow,
And the bittern sound his drum,
Booming from the sedgy shallow.
Ruder sounds shall none be near,
Guards nor warders challenge here,
Here's no war-steed's neigh and champing,
Shouting clans or squadrons stamping.
Huntsman, rest! thy chase is done,
While our slumbrous spells assail ye,
Dream not, with the rising sun,
Bugles here shall sound reveillé.
Sleep! the deer is in his den;
Sleep! thy hounds are by thee lying;
Sleep! nor dream in yonder glen,
How thy gallant steed lay dying.
Huntsman, rest; thy chase is done,
Think not of the rising sun,
For at dawning to assail ye,
Here no bugles sound reveillé.
poem by Sir Walter Scott
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The Lady of the Lake: Canto 1 (excerpt)
SONG
Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er,
Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking:
Dream of battled fields no more,
Days of danger, nights of waking.
In our isle's enchanted hall,
Hands unseen thy couch are strewing,
Fairy strains of music fall,
Every sense in slumber dewing.
Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er,
Dream of fighting fields no more:
Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking,
Morn of toil, nor night of waking.
No rude sound shall reach thine ear,
Armour's clang, or war-steed champing,
Trump nor pibroch summon here
Mustering clan, or squadron tramping.
Yet the lark's shrill fife may come
At the day-break from the fallow,
And the bittern sound his drum,
Booming from the sedgy shallow.
Ruder sounds shall none be near,
Guards nor warders challenge here,
Here's no war-steed's neigh and champing,
Shouting clans or squadrons stamping....
Huntsman, rest! thy chase is done,
While our slumbrous spells assail ye,
Dream not, with the rising sun,
Bugles here shall sound reveillé.
Sleep! the deer is in his den;
Sleep! thy hounds are by thee lying;
Sleep! nor dream in yonder glen,
How thy gallant steed lay dying.
Huntsman, rest; thy chase is done,
Think not of the rising sun,
For at dawning to assail ye,
Here no bugles sound reveillé.
poem by Sir Walter Scott
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tear My Heart Dear
you may see me not, because of your
love to me, I have touched you and
you have grown up, maybe not
because I inspired you.
I make you real, as what you say
but maybe you're just blind
because your mind is so conditioned
that I cared for you, your experience
with me made your conclusion real,
but are you in touch of what is
deep inside me?
we have shared memories, a commitment
that only I and you can profess, maybe it ended
with a memorable passion that each one of
us would'nt forget
yes! you understand me in every spoken and
unspoken word I say, but perhaps
those action is not I who say
break me up into pieces and scatter it beyond
its recognition and design, maybe the answer
is there to be found
hold me not and turn into puzzle, my being
maybe the real I is me, take me in every
pieces, it ups and downs, there you will find me
make me whole, touch me piece by piece
, you'll find the answer, for only in breaking my
heart can you find the real me
poem by Antonio Liao
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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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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