The staccato tap, tap, tap of raindrops,
as they march in multitudes across the roof ...
the vacillating tenor of their starts and stops,
like stampeding, tiny horses on the hoof,
the soothing cadence of the rushing waves
of water pirouetting down the eaves,
to drought-dry, dusty earth that craves
the moisture that caresses and relieves:
yet all this soothing, natural aid to sleep
seems to no avail this winter's night;
the hours and minutes seem to barely creep.
Behind clouds the moon is extra bright.
Although the words seem rather lame,
insomnia has won the game.
In a list
A contest entry
- For My Favorites by Age of Rain.
402 points, ended October 20, 6 entries
Bronze trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - |NSOMN|AC POETS by Dray I. Disaster.
520 points, ended November 4, 14 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
What did you think?
Comments
1 - 11 of 11
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Like the last line since that has happened to me a few times. I like your word choice, and intermittent alliteration and I especially like the tiny horses image.
Nice write, playful in spite of the insomnia restlessness.
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This is very-well written. An excellent imagery. I absolutely love the rhyme as well. Great job. This piece deserves some applause.
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A very good piece. Its rhyme is good enough that it doesn't distract from the piece, and I like all but the final couplet. The ending of the poem just seemed rather too ordinary to hold up to the rest of the poem. Still, very well done.
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Ah, but you're too young ...
to really be acquainted with insomnia. Read this in 40 years and you'll like it a lot better.
Thanks for the trophy.
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"The staccato tap, tap, tap ... of raindrops,
as they march in multitudes across the roof ..."
I love the rain! And nothing is more consolling to me than its midnight drumbeat, "Écrivain", so your lovely soliloquy lulled me like music...until I came to:
"Although the words seem rather lame,
insomnia has won the game..."
Sorry for smiling at your unhappyness but you made me!
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There's a story ...
behind this poem. I was in bed trying to go to sleep and the first line came to me, so I got up, came out to the computer, and wrote the octet to this. I was too tired to finish the poem, so it sat until I had to have a poem for the workshop at IPA. I finished the poem, and then forgot to go to the workshop. (My memory is pretty bad lately.)
They tell me that the critics liked the poem though, so I guess that's something.
Thanks for stopping by.
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i do love it when i enjoy a rhyming piece...
the shock is unexpectedly awsome.
i really liked this, line 1 & 6 especially.
great imagery.
great work.
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Such creativeness brought forth from insomnias grip relentless .
A full bodied poetic piece expressed nicely here.
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First poem you've written in months? In that case, an excellent return to poetic duty, my friend. Superb content and entirely apt imagery make this a pleasure to read.
Best wishes,
Bill
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First of all, most of all...welcome back, my Friend. 
I, too, have gone through singular, similar periods over the years, when I didn't actually pick up my pen, either...yet, poetry has its way of writing itself upon our silent hearts, into our quiet eyes, within our murmuring souls...our fingers casually drift, caressing a page we do not hold in our hands at that point in time...The words will still simmer in our veins, condensing into something far more powerful, much more sublime than "everyday" will allow...As always, perhaps even more so now, this is a beautiful, tender, poignant piece, dear Scribe. May you find the rest you seek...& may your pen always be at the ready for those precious moments when you do decide to pour your voice upon the parchment in a surrendering song of strength. Good luck in the contest, Sweetie. 
Wanda
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