When It’s Time For Me To SleepA Poem by Frederick P SamsonA poem about that incessant ticking of a clock when you go to bed and the realisation that it may not be the noise itself that agitates but what it stands for.
Every night
As I'm unwinding With the light No longer blinding Comes my plight Which was residing Out of sight But only hiding In the distance I hear it creep Though resistant I cannot keep As it's insistent That I peep So To listen Instead of sleep With its grinding It does so flauntingly As it's reminding That it's haunting me Forever binding I find so dauntingly Inflicting my mind As it's still taunting me Every tick Gives me a crick As I'm stricken by its sticks As they click Its like a tick That is flicking at my wick Every tock It never stops I hear it knock just so mock Like rock About to drop As it locks me in these stocks Forever turning Never ending As it's burning Whist descending No adjourning No more pretending That whats discerning Is still impending Though by the day It's sound is drowned But still it's prey It hounds me down So when I lay Im found and bound To here it play It go round and round It watches with persistence As it stalks me with its knife As it notches at my existence As it chalks away my life So it reminds me that I'm doomed As I'm sorrowed by its chyme So I lie in bed consumed That my life's on borrowed time So it is I live a life decreasingly Every second I can't retrieve It's hands never releasing my As I'm beckoned without reprieve And I'll only sit here peacefully When it's time for me to leave And that will be when I cease to be So for myself for now I'll grieve As Im hindered by its infernal cumber As relentless as its pursuit I've surrendered, I'm just another number And that it's pointless to refute And I will face my eternal slumber With not a word of a dispute But only when I rest in a state of umber And I'm pushing up the routes So until then, when the bell doth toll Pity me, allow my torchered soul untether Let me fill this bottomless hole With dreams of being free to stroll forever. © 2019 Frederick P Samson |
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Added on April 24, 2019 Last Updated on April 24, 2019 AuthorFrederick P SamsonHartlepool, United KingdomAboutI work in the construction industry but of late have felt compelled to write. more..Writing
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