Whispers, whispers, in my sleep
Imagination oh so deep
Toss and turn, throw off the bedclothes
Thrashing around, reaching out
Where does it come from?
Why does it visit?
Eyes open wide, still darkness outside
Lying there soaking wet from sweat
Needing help, but from who or where?
Out of bed walk the house
Quiet as in days gone by
Hurts my head more than noise
Bedroom calls, do not go back
Throw on a track suit
Walk the streets
People around, very rare
Fit right in, no stares no questions asked
Are we all from the same dreams?
Morning comes as daylight starts
Where to now my forgotten dreams?
Stagger back to my home
Nothing changed, only me that is gone
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Lying there soaking..., not Laying there... hee-hee and probably from whom, not from who. ....but maybe i'm being picky, ESPECIALLY since even I, Bri, don't follow all the 'rules' of English which i once was taught and graded on. One rule was to never end a sentence with a preposition [such as on]. I'm not sure i understand completely; i do NOT, but i like the poem. To MyPoemList. it seems more is going on here than dreams! bri (:
Hi, wise one, my English/Welsh Teacher would be so proud of my attempt to destroy the English language. The Welsh take great delight in confusing the meaning of words. Well noted on more going on than just dreams. Thank you for taking the time to read this poem.