Sleepless - Poem by Ian Bowen
As night becomes an extinction of the sun,
The battle against tiredness, has now begun.
Black clouds the sleeper, tars the skies,
Forcing the closure of disobedient eyes.
The alarm clock, set, to wake the dead of night,
Each tock clocked, ticked and right.
It sits redundant, a simple ornament of numbers.
Counting time it never slumbers.
Watching black through crimson sight.
Lying mummified, flannelette tight.
Wrestling covers that sap night sweat.
Changing sides, no comfort met.
Night measured in endless waves.
Discovering cracks that become valleys and caves.
Open eyes crawling round ceiling and walls.
Composing the transition of shadowy halls.
The double edged sword of sleep.
Bitten by the bug of numbered sheep;
Frustrates, keeps at bay, awake, wide.
Self hypnotise, in imitation dreams confide.
Then the chorus of dawn screeches the final laps.
Morning light now chases once darkened gaps.
Shaft light bathes this prison in chain gang stripes….
For day has delivered calm to sleepless types
Comments about Sleepless by Ian Bowen
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Mary Elizabeth Frye