0020 Awakening To Myself Poem by Michael Shepherd

0020 Awakening To Myself

Rating: 2.3

Surfacing from deep sleep, that moment
when the disciplined get up immediately,
the self-motivated can’t wait to get on doing their life,
the blest open their eyes with praise upon their lips,
the tardy look with horror at the bedside clock,
or the peremptory alarm floods the body with adrenalin,
while the rest of us pull the bedclothes over our head
to keep the world out of ourselves, or vice versa,
not I..

half-surfacing to some stony ledge
in the ocean of part consciousness
I am at one with every depressive, every would-be suicide,
every spiritual down-and-out,
every being who feels their worthlessness,

as one inspecting carefully the contents
of the fullish bag of a vacuum cleaner
finding there, naught for my comfort

until, if I’m lucky, some passing concern
for another human being
takes the place of fervent morning hymn
and I may feel I have some place,
some part to play in this strange drama
that we find ourselves thrust onstage to play,
wondering if we learned the lines aright;

and after this chastening roller-coaster
of humility, mayhap another chance to seek myself,
I, dispassionately, rise.

Alison Mary Dunn 12 September 2008

This is a wonderful write Michael. I've read your poem a few times now and it's up there with the best. Ally

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jack russell 04 September 2006

So pleased to discover that I am not the only one. Fine work. Jack.

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Know precisely what you mean, of course. A rollercoaster of a poetic ride M but one which makes its humbled reader pause for thought. Excellently coined title, too. t xx

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Daniel Tyler 03 September 2006

I particularly like the world-weary reference to Shakespeare's 'All the world's a stage' mantra, pointing out, quite correctly that one doesn't get far without a script. Yes, a wistful poem that dares to defy the usual 'I'm feeling positive today' talk when waking up. Well done, Michael.

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Gina Onyemaechi 03 September 2006

Not everyone has the level of intellect required to see into the heart of the matter of life. Deep and philosophical if rather grey and grim (inevitably so, given the meaninglessness of life) . Speaking of awakening to oneself, I've sent the £15 to Godstow for the sonnets. I'm hoping that they'll reach me some time this week - I want to get reading! Love, Gina.

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Michael Shepherd

Michael Shepherd

Marton, Lancashire
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