Another Bad Night

for people who can`t sleep

A black hood has been forced over my head,

a thousand unborn children sing in my garden.

I do not have an off switch.

Voices rough with tobacco are planning my demise,

they lurk full of malice before my house,

a distant television frees waves of laughter.

The darkness starts from the ground and reaches

to the top of the sky, I wan`t to tear out the stars but

they are too hot, like lightbulbs.

My stolen sleep has been packed, like a dummy,

into an old suitcase, it rests ignored on a lighted pavement,

next to the  brumming diesel of a standing bus.  

Reviews

[Neva Flores Smith - Cha..]

Your writing is fascinating. I adore the image you painted in my mind of the poet's sleep packed in a suitcase standing my a Greyhound bus ready to ride...marvelous.

[reflectingus]

It seems to me that you're very good with similes and metaphors, and that's an awesome quality. I love the descriptions, how lack of sleep forces your inner paranoid-ness out, and suddenly you notice everything, certainly a feeling I can relate to. Your writing style is rather enjoyable to read, and the whole poem has been written brilliantly. Loved.

[EMF]

Stunning imagry and use of language to create a sophoric state, which you snap the reader away from by the end of each line. Insonia is something most of us struggle with at some time or another, but so wonderfully described here as to make you wonder if it were written in one of those sleep deprived night. Superbly written and with great finnesse.

[AK]

Yes indeed I feel the same way when I can't get a good night's sleep:) greta write! I loved your description! Keep writing!

[Blindfolded]

The misery of a sleepless night. You describe it so well. I hope you found a restful place away from your lightbulbs.

[Lisa Snow]

These are very haunting words. You are very talented. The descriptions hit me with such force "thousand unborn children sing in my garden". I am a new fan!

[Ed Hart]

bad nights, the birthplace of some right fine poetry

[Emily B]

every line is a new adventure

[...]

. oh ... i have known this "black hood" ... and i have known it for years ... i wondered what i'd find beyond it ... and i find i still can't sleep but there's a lightness ... (a bit like milan kundera's "the unbearable lightness of being") ... i'm hoping beyond this is the stage when sleep will return ... just my thoughts after reading your vivid and perceptive ... infinitely poetic ... description of what it's like for those of us ... who can't sleep ... particularly loved the image in the last stanza for personal reasons ...

[Sel Whiteley]

Wow, this is filled with so many startling details, at first it seems like a physical hanging then you realise that it is the noose of the mind. I especially like the ending "I want to tear out the stars but/ they are too hot, like lightbulbs/my stolen sleep has been packed like a dummy/into an old suitcase." That's simply inspired, such a wonderful poem.