“Dawn’s Whisper: Roy Pullam’s Stirring 4 AM Poetic Revelation”
Ever wonder if the poetry of our sleepless nights is a tale as old as time or just a charade to occupy our minds until the black dog retreats? Imagine the clock not as a cruel joker in this late-night drama, but as a strict overseer, ensuring we wrestle with the shadows until dawn breaks. Herein lies a poem not merely about insomnia but perhaps about the human struggle with the anxieties and trivialities of life. Will we conquer them, or do they define us? Dive into this piece, reflecting on the mundane yet poignant realms of our own thoughts. As our poet endeavors to escape into literature, so might we seek solice in the digital embrace of life’s minutiae. LEARN MORE.
I cannot sleep
The roll and toss
Twists the covers
But finds no position
For me
To return to dreams
The face of the clock
Mocks me
With its early hour
The slow movement of hands
Like an obscene gesture
Points directly
In my direction
I do not
Want to get up again
The torture
Of fatigue
Lingers from weeks
Of not resting
I cannot turn off
A series of thoughts
Worries
That might never happen
How I long
For the repose
Of my youth
When heavy eyes
Led to a depth
Of unconsciousness
But concerns are with me
The black dog
Nipping at my heels
How I smell
His breath
In the bite
Of guilt
In a host
Of petty details
That in their weight
Makes little difference
I will give up again
Carrying the heaviness
That bends my back
Into the living room
The light is harsh
My eyes convulse
I wait for them
To adjust
Picking a book
From the side
Of the couch
Pausing for a moment
To get the interrupted context
Prior to reading
The few chapters
Before my darling
Rises from her bed
Post Comment