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I currently sleep in episodes,
brief sojourns into late night sub-genres
too niche for deep sleep prime time
starring washed up dream tropes
like public ****** and teeth falling out

I still find flickers of truth
but a mind mindlessly clicking through channels
provides no water cooler moments
for the therapist and I
Shush brain,
let the regular, looped refrains drop,
seek a safe, blank space,
a place for quietude
and maize based snacks:
for the love of Pete
Dave Robertson Aug 2020
Rest as a remedy,
forced to stay put,
instead of filling my head and feet with
a million next steps
and very necessary jobs and concerns,
I have to sit

the normal distractions
I covet in the pell-mell of things,
box sets, deep cuts, long reads, levelling up,
lose lustre fast
I glaze-stare at the fictional tree line
ticks trickling to tocks

From deep below I hear the slow plod
thudded footfalls of ‘those’ thoughts,
sensing a weakness in the barricades,
heaving down the drawbridge
usually bound firm by chains of daily grind,
LED light show and the world’s digital caterwaul

My busted foot has robbed my nimbleness,
unable to glance, sidestep or dance aside,
our eyes catch and fix,
like the titans of the twilight
their inexorable, gargantuan tread reaches me

I put up a pathetic wrestle
before I am pinned by the weight
long past the three count
frantically tapping on the mat
my morse SOS growing weak

Please Doc,
just give me a dose of elixir so they’ll retreat
and my broken *** will ride
a frivolous winged horse
back to safe and anxious ground
Poppy Gallagher Feb 2020
Through the darkness of this illness I lay
Praying for light and joy to come my way
Realizing in sickness there must be more
What may I learn from this bleak score
Alas I've realized I can adore
The solitude and quiet bliss I have in store
From lifes busyness and exhausting door
I come through to a quiet shore
Using my mind I can explore
A plethora of ideas that never bore
Then happiness and joy are once more restored.

The End
This poem was written during my downtime from a virus. I realized in fighting being ill, I should embrace it and use this time for doing something good. Use my mind. The wonderful ideas that came were a new business venture, writing poetry, and that the mind is a beautiful place to explore. Thus came this poem.
'twas there
in lore
a voice
hit veranda
then flowed
with message
this vigorous
front they'd
atone with
a writ
where cretans'
favor absorbed
ware their
certainty clay
became sugar
that'd square
their dominion
On vacation in Heraklion

— The End —