Sleepless In Cornwall U.K. Poem by Fay Slimm
Sleepless In Cornwall U.K.
Help! I'm submerging beneath waves of words.
It's three in the morning in Cornwall U.K.
I'm meant to be sleeping, but rest just disturbs
The march of the Muse on poor sleepless Fay!
I've counted sheep vaulting countless barred gates,
Tossed, turned, then bored in my untidy bed
Sleep flown, now the Muse begins and dictates
Rhythms and metres to my sleepy head,
So, bolstered with coffee plus paper and pen
I resist the compulsion no more.
I scribble, erase, then scribble again.
Nothing emerges, and now it's past four!
What made me think I could ever write rhyme?
I know! - just for fun I'll post this on line! !
i can say no more then the other post fay, brilliant thank you for sharing
Surprising how many of us have the same experience really, where something that seems to be calling us hides frustratingly just out of reach beyond the veil or pale. You capture the time and the 'battle' so well, Fay. Regards, Tony.
Hi Fay. Yes a great way of looking at the way we spend our sleepless nights, I often find this to be a great subject to write about, and you do it so well. Regards Dave T.
I too write poems in the dead of the night my mind goes ballistic till i get it right i toss and i turn, another verse mimed an imaginary pen poised but not timed thank you Fay! you always inspire me!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/16/2024 2:37:05 PM # 1.0.0.1119
I am glad you can write such a nice poem while trying to catch a sleep.