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Leifa 1d
Like the first inspire of brisk, waking air.
The climbing Carpathian lantern of day.
I sip on tender herbs and taste the gentle stems
Of sensations gone astray.

I feel an awakening.
Lee Jackman Oct 8
I stare at the clock on my bedside table watching each minute pass by.

Clear your mind i keep telling myself, Clear your mind.

The red light from the alarm clock seems brighter tonight or maybe its just darker?

Seems like ever thought iv ever had is rushing at me all at once.

Im wondering if i will ever sleep again.

Another minute passes by.

I think of all the people i have ever upset, or times i wishing i had done or send something but didn't.

I think of the people i have lost, My Nan, My aunt and friend.

I have flash backs to the time i drove into a flood and the water flowing over the bonnet.

Another minute passes by.

I think about my aunts dog who was stolen from her garden 20 years ago. It must have been so scared. I hope it didnt get hurt.

I think about getting a drink but then decide it will wake me up more.

Another minute passes by.

I try to clear mind, count back from 100 i tell myself.

100, 99, 98, 97,

what color bin do i put out tomorrow?


I must remember to check the tyres on my car.


Another minute passes by.

Whats that noise, is there someone in the house?.


Maybe i should get up at check? Na it will be nothing.

78, 77 have i missed some numbers?

Another minute passes by.

Did i just dream that? Did i fall asleep?
When all i want to do is sleep the most ridiculous and random things come in to my head. This cant just happen to me?
Please excuse any spelling, Im dyslexic. I have not had the confidence to share any of my poems until very recently. So kind words please
Allesha Eman Oct 8
I lay here searching for wakefulness
hours after sunrise.
Outside, remnants of a soft pink rest
among new-born grey clouds,  
And embers of a morning sun fade away.

I admire the transitioning sky, remembering how this life is a mystifying blur made of hellos and goodbyes.
Rosie Toes Sep 30
But where does the time go? Between 10:30pm and 3:30 am?
Spent in tears, in laughter, or in silence, all of them capable of being a twilight time zone without you realizing.

Staring at a notecard sized screen. Turning page after page in a book. Repeating to yourself for the seventh time, "just one more" even if you know you still don't mean it.

Those phone calls. The ones when it feels as if saying "goodnight" is like flying back from Neverland.

Laying still, or restless, gazing out in a dark room, up at a popcorn ceiling, each kernel a reminder of an embarrassing thing you said in 5th grade. We crawl into a blackhole of  -wish to be forgotten but always remembered- mistakes.

Rehearsing your script for a significant part of your tomorrow. Imagining possible life memories in anticipation of an adventure that is waiting on you to begin it.  

Solving solutions to problems that haven't occurred.
Searching for answers to the questions our universe has not yet answered.

What is the real order of life to our world?
What is truly beyond the city limits of our atmosphere?
Why do we really ask both a confidant and a total stranger "how are you"?
But more importantly,
why do we always accept "fine" as a desirable answer?
How can five hours feel like five minutes?
And, sometimes, something in our universe will ask us back,
"are you still there"?
Needles stick and ***** my skin,
A sharp reminder of the world I'm in;
Where daggers point at trusting throats
and hope is sinking like a fisher's boat-
Where unkind eyes look aghast
To see that 'normal' is in the past,
And hatred speeds this world's demise-
All this seen by my tired eyes.
In the morn, I'd hoped to wake
To find a little joy to take,
But darkness, pain are all thats found
In this new world,
Born from poisoned ground.
Slime-God Sep 12
Ill awakening
I rise to meet this cruel day
and drag myself on
Shane Leigh Sep 10
Palm fronds are falling,
like feathers
I lean against the arching trunk
of this beautiful palm tree.
It’s an old tree,
leaves will fall,
it happens;
but they fall,
it’s beautiful
but they fall,
too quickly,
but they fall.
I look up to the light.
There’s a never-ending canopy.
Where did all these fronds come from?

Don’t you know it’s time to wake up sister?
It’s warm.
The night is coming.
But it’s warm.
It’s warm?
You were always the logical one.
Telling me it’s time to wake up.

It’s always time to wake up.  
But you’re here.
leaning against the trunk,
touching the roughness of the bark,
stretching my limbs like the roots.
You are the soft furs of the fronds,
the small spines
elongating from the rachis,
the parts that are destined to fall.

It’s time to wake up sister.

I am awake
Looking up to fronds,
reaching around the thin trunk –
the other side ...
it's empty.
I am awake,
the fronds keep falling.
I am awake.
This was another writing exercise for my class.
Any and ALL feedback is appreciated but, ultimately, I hope I did a good job lol and I hope you all enjoy it. (:
© Shane Leigh
Slime-God Sep 7
The morning is cold.
Last night’s chill hangs everywhere.
How unwelcoming...
Lane O Aug 31
Sleepless nights when I was young,
fond times - I reminisce;
though many I cannot recall,
there is one I truly miss:

Midnight mass at the cathedral,
the echo of sung hymns;
growing restless in the pew,
as the candles all burned dim.

Still of the night - heavy silence,
white flake now falling  swift;
plumes of smoke from chimneys,
and in windows stood trees lit.

Waiting in suspense - so eager,
in my bed under the sheets;
hearing  the howl of a winter's gale
blustering against the eaves.

Old Saint Nick would soon arrive,
with his sleigh and sack of gifts;
bringing joy to all boys and girls,
and crossing names off His list.

But now I have aged and withered,
and so Christmas has lost its glow;
on its Eve I still remain awake,
and watch the falling snow.
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