In the morning,a bucket of sleep
Empties itself on my page.
It tips out the dregs of the twilight hours,
When mind's deepest battles rage.
In front of me,this heap, of gritty eyed sleep,
Leaves me rubbing my eyes...
I begin to sift through it, until I can do it,
And with images no longer disguised,
I write and I write, from very first light,
Till the sand is swept away,
By the endless distractions that come crowding in-
As unfolds, another day!
Author notes
From the dregs of sleep, comes the writing (and creative) ideas.
Written August 26th, 2000
What did you think
Comments
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I love this, it's so much like my own mornings. You've written a very cool poem, so expressive of those first waking moments.
I enjoyed this, my first read of the day... what a choice, huh
Dee
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Wonderful!
A masterpiece of words,and imagery...I just love it!A topic that few write about..The struggles of writing, and sleeps' influence...I will bookmark this, as this is my problem sometimes.Your title is perfect..First line is great...When one wakes up to work at writing we are groggy and feel unproductive.I like " till the sand is swept away, By the endless distractions that come crwoding in As unfolds,another day!
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