"snoozed" poems
Tears…so many tears after my best friend
died. I was 17. Light brown, coarse hair from my
puppy snuggled up to me each night. Crumbs
from many late-night dinners, coupled with
doing homework until the sun peaks
through the sleepy darkness.
My mom’s old white tennis shoes, falling
apart at the seams. Bobby pins.
Snoozed alarms. Text messages I didn’t want
to say goodnight to. Screams,
from that nightmare that felt all too real.
Tears…so many tears. The nightlight I kept
on ever since then. Books. Stories. Adventures.
Gatsby’s blind love. Harry finally defeating his demons.
The matching sock I didn’t have time to find. Dust.
Lots of dust. The phone call when her grandmother died.
My wandering mind dreaming of what the future might hold. Poems,
written and read. The dizzy night I told you
“stay,” and I let you have what you
wanted. Then you told me, “I’m not ready for
a girl like you.” Tears…so many tears.
My mother’s constant disapproval of
me, and my time spent
wasted in her hazel eyes.
Countless nights I wished you
laid with me under my cold lavender sheets.
Misplaced earring backings. Baby blue nail polish dripped.
Bittersweet dreams of a future with you. My puppy’s hidden
treats that he forgot once existed. Phantoms.
Monsters. Phone calls and Facetime’s that felt like
a moment frozen, but lasted hours. That bright pink
Homecoming dress my mother said I looked
heavy in. Tears…so many tears. Darkness. Months later when you
came back, sleeping peacefully next to me. Forgiveness. Hope.
All the boys I thought were worth my time. Love.
You.
It’s always been you.
Jan 23, 2019
Jan 23, 2019 at 12:44 AM UTC
With a firm footed march, under sun and moonlight
We slowly advance towards December,
She was, like butter, so tender, I understood
We would sit near the camp and compare notes,
A walk in the woods, we'd do, smell wild flowers,
Gather ideas, without rhyme or reason, laugh together,
Life had an irregular graph, like always
And an internal logic, one needs to soon grasp,
There is nothing fool proof, here remember,
*Sudden cloud bursts, land slide, thunder and flood,
Are no wonders, be ready to face wonders too as facts of life.*
Every smart plan go burst, then what about windfalls, did you forget?
*How can you loose heart, cry unconsoled,
We grasped every unwritten rule, so why cry?*
Didn't we stand still and sense which way the wind blows?
Ever did we forget, to partake in simple pleasures?
*On every lake, with clear water ,we found time
To swim **** competing with silver bellied fish, till we were tired,*
On the shade of a tall mango tree you sat on my lap playfully,
We closed our eyes, snoozed a while, till the breeze woke us up again
**At December, in the journey's end, we'd part ways, as it is said
Though alone, one always is, this togetherness was really the meaning.**
Aug 31, 2012
Aug 31, 2012 at 3:03 PM UTC
Nestled in a pencil case
And snuggled up in fluff
There snoozed a tiny pirate man
Of legendary stuff
He'd spied the hidden secrets
And trod the haunted shore
Blu-tack Beard the buccaneer
Scourge of the open floor
He stole a shoe-box galleon
And sailed the carpet blue
With pencil mast and paper sails
And crayons as his crew
They forayed on the crooked tiles
And crested every ridge
Blu-tack Beard the scallywag
The raider of the fridge
When moored up in the kitchen
With all his crew around
The captain showed to one and all
A treasure map he'd found
It bore a chart of distant parts
And quite a course it plot
It pointed to the bathroom lands
And tip-ex marked the spot
They crammed the hold with cornflakes
To feed them on their trip
They pulled hard on the piece of string
And weighed the paperclip
The crew they dragged their boat aloft
On neatly woven hairs
Blu-tack Beard the privateer
Surmounter of the stairs
They heaved their vessel restlessly
Atop the final brow
The crayon pirates caught their breath
And leaned against her bow
Then scaled tiny ladders
And each took to their post
Blu-tack Beard was at the helm
And watched the foreign coast
Through countless minutes voyaging
There loomed the bathroom door
They slacked the sail and went below
And each took to an oar
They pulled a mighty rhythm
Till their waxy arms were numb
And Blu-tack Beard the plunderer
Was beater of the drum
But though they pried in every nook
And each last inch of grout
They skirted round the skirting board
They tapped each silver spout
Illusive was their bounty
And they grew ever the crueller
They took their skipper angrily
And made him walk the ruler
He landed glum and ruefully
Amid the ***** socks
He heard the merry spiteful sound
Of laughing, taunting mocks
And saw the sight of mutiny
With waxen little smiles
Blu-tack Beard the cast-away
Alone among the tiles
He commandeered a washing cloth
And weaved himself a rope
He scaled the dreaded washstand
And stole a bar of soap
He carved himself a coracle
And set his sights on home
Blu-tack Beard the wanderer
Awash amid the foam
He slithered down the stairwell
And landed with a plan
For warmer climes and restfulness
A cocktail and a tan
And so he met his final port
Right then did he retire
Blu-tack Beard the pensioner
Of the warm spot near the fire
Feb 22, 2014
Feb 22, 2014 at 4:33 PM UTC
I was asleep when the world started to end.
While the first skyscraper fell, I was under my covers dreaming of somewhere new.
I was asleep when the world started to end.
While the virus ran its course and charged like a legion of soldiers, I was pressed against my pillows watching shadows behind my eyes.
I was asleep when the world started to end.
While the fires broke out in the churches and the bombs went off in the hospitals, a puddle of drool was collecting on my blanket while I snoozed away.
I was asleep when the world started to end.
While the tidal waves hit the shoreline and washed away shopping malls and grocery stores, I was sprawled out across a bed, lightly snoring.
I was asleep when the world started to end.
While the asteroid entered the atmosphere and the people of this world shouted in terror and confusion, I was talking in my sleep to anyone who cared to listen.
I woke up when the world was over.
Nov 26, 2012
Nov 26, 2012 at 10:21 AM UTC
Yesterday I followed her on Instagram,
I guess watching her stories is no harm;
Oh, nothing matches hers charm,
and her thoughts were pretty much warm
"TEXT HER"- my heart raised an alarm.
HER about displays "#QUEENDOM",
Reading down I asked myself;
what's the need to her Royalty?
Maybe to evince your Loyalty.
She wears motley set of opinions,
Oh, one of her post says She hate onions.
Her reviews about movies and books shows her Morality,
so you can't shield yourself if you are guilty.
That snoozed alarm hits again;
I don't have words to go beyond her Reign,
The disarmed thoughts were on the run again,
So I thought to send her the above mentioned words
Which were not that much certain.
Aug 19, 2019
Aug 19, 2019 at 6:25 AM UTC
Beautiful and sleepy, Emily snoozed by the bubbling riverside.
Nearly flawless in her own unique way, her plump lips moved ever so slightly as she dreamed.
Lucas watched her, completely awestruck.
Enthralled by the beauty which was his wife.
Married no more than a year, their relationship as husband as wife was still incredibly fetching to the young couple.
A soft sigh escaped Emily's lips, her body roused from her nap shortly thereafter.
"You creep", Emily exclaimed playfully, batting her fists at Lucas.
"You're just remarkable when you sleep", he explained.
Emily planted a swift kiss on her husbands lips.
"I love you".
Jul 27, 2015
Jul 27, 2015 at 12:31 PM UTC
They waited in silence,
No questions they asked.
No demand to be noticed,
Though deadline neared fast.
They sat in quiet patience,
At attention they snoozed.
Hoping time would tick on,
When perchance they'll be used.
There are those who oft pray,
For these precious pearls rare.
Yet others throw reckless,
Lay 'em to waste with no care.
So when completing an essay,
With goals succinctly met,
Muse on this ode to the few,
Unused words of word limit.
Oct 28, 2016
Oct 28, 2016 at 9:22 AM UTC
i am supposed to be letting go
moving on, getting over you, and so
tell me how it is that once again
i found myself this morning
rolling over when a phone alarm went off and then
realizing it was your alarm not mine
and that your duvet and sheets were the only things adorning
our bare-skinned bodies as we lay together
and that warmth on my back was your fingers tracing down my spine
while you pulled me closer to you and snoozed your alarm after briefly debating whether
you were ready to get up or needed a few more moments
of just us, bodies entwined
the lightest of touches received as encouragements
serving to once and over again spellbind
in the soft morning light drifting in your windows
as we once again play the parts of slaves to our libidos
choosing to stubbornly ignore our established credos
in favor of experiencing the lows and crescendos
that inevitably follow any amount of time spent with each other's favorite ******
because i am yours and you are mine
and it's gotten to the point that we really shouldn't bother to deny
that this is not some passing thing
and what we had - have - isn't just a fling
but i guess you need time to get your head straight
to sort out exactly what it is that you feel, perhaps
so i will try to be patient and not remonstrate
but it's hard when i'm the one still in love
just waiting, wishing, hoping that maybe you will relapse
May 9, 2018
May 9, 2018 at 7:39 AM UTC
There is a hole in the deep
through which darkness does seep
far beyond what used to be sane
it now goes with no name
now hidden, long inside a bunker
behind barricades, alone he now hunker
his shields worn to the touch
laid out for everyone to judge
Worn, battered and bruised
the future's once again snoozed
yet still there is hope that remain
for this feeling, he mastered to contain
Sep 13, 2023
Sep 13, 2023 at 3:52 PM UTC
Something was inside her head
I tried very hard to find.
As I soothing her body, she whispered
Applying cuddling, she muttered
Like a beautiful mountain, her hair stood.
I know she felt something
But she was a bit scaring.
I heard a free flowing of her blood
I proceed with my delightful searching
Her heart made a trumpet sound
Heart beating I never heard before
As she mourned
I kept on going as I ignore.
She made a very delicious musical sound
As I proceed, she begged
Beg for me to be inside her body
I wrapped her sweet lovely body,she laughed.
I continued to take my round
Hell she's hot enough to be burned
We snoozed!
May 18, 2019
May 18, 2019 at 9:28 AM UTC
His cough encouraged him to stay inside
persuaded him to spend the night
in soft and safer beds.
Where his scarf is less of use
and two pillows mean abuse.
Where cotton without candy
feels like a contraction of sugar mixed with brandy
and he thinks more like the man he
wished he wasn't too afraid to be
less cowardly
he dozed
he snoozed
and snored
and freed his mind of every thing, so utterly vague
five plagues of insight would not have sufficed
to make him see the light inside.
Nov 10, 2016
Nov 10, 2016 at 6:04 PM UTC
In clouds of rain
caught sight
Among the stars
took flight
Torn asunder
oh sweet thunder
And well ****
What year is it
Set the alarm for 9
and snoozed
till half past 10
A warm bed
and lovely dreams
or frigid realities
of white bics
and dry wicks
So off to lecture halls
and faulty seals
to restore
what is not yet forgotten
Oct 27, 2016
Oct 27, 2016 at 2:48 AM UTC
his skin was paper
and her blood was watercolor paint.
he slept with peas beneath his mattress
but felt pins in his spine,
while she feels that dreaming in color
is a waste of her time.
she sleeps with the pauper while the peeping toms look from the rafters in the half moon sky.
he still remembers Polaroid pictures and watching the news
while mom and dad snoozed on paper sofas
in a house of cards
with cardboard walls.
and he left it all
for a girl whose aunt was killed by a drunk driver in a parking lot.
Mar 13, 2014
Mar 13, 2014 at 6:48 AM UTC
If only time stood still
Then nothing would happen in this world you may think that sounds kind of appealing
No babies born, no humans killed
If Billy had forgotten his lunch
Then ran back to pick it up
If he'd have left the house just a minute later
And into the traffic got stuck
Then he wouldn't have been driving his for
At 15:47 down Chahito Boulevard
Where on that saturday morning
Amy Rodriguez she crossed the road
If only time stood still
Then nothing would happen in this world you may think that sounds kind of appealing
No babies born, no humans killed
If Amy hadn't snoozed that morning alarm at 5:45am
Then 2 minutes later she rose up, slipped into her office dress
And if the rain she fell, then the car would've been a better way
To get her to the working station, that Saturday
Billy's phone rang out, his head bowed down
A big old bang on the hood of his car, Amy lay silent, people gather around
Fifteen seconds later she'd have crossed path to path
If the phone didn't ring oh ain't irony a funny thing, we'd still be hearing Any's laugh
Now all the guilt in the world can't change what's happened you live with what you've got
A second here or there can make a lifetime of difference, something i've never really thought
Now Billy's old and can sit on his porch with grandchildren dancing at his feet
But he lives with the thoughts that if he slept 2 minutes longer Amy Rodriguez would still be walking these streets
May 26, 2017
May 26, 2017 at 8:43 AM UTC
I knew it was a dream
I knew you weren't real
But I hit snooze for the tenth time
Because I wasn't ready to say goodbye
Apr 10, 2025
Apr 10, 2025 at 10:14 AM UTC
After Rain
The audacious sun finally showed up, and green was
the winter landscape, I also saw the sun set just behind
the carob tree, where the almond tree first blossom,
asleep under a carpet of wild flowers and snoozed till dawn.
Over the easterly range, which is the first defence against
Spanish Marauders and the rain on its plane, the clouds
were dark blue, perhaps more rain tomorrow?
In fading light, a musical note danced down the phone line,
the first flirt of spring? And should it rain tomorrow I will
not be downhearted, this day will keep me warm for
weeks to come.
Sep 12, 2017
Sep 12, 2017 at 2:53 AM UTC
Felt so good!
Wind and the highway!
Did anyone see me?
...beautiful with the hope of love?
Neck getting sunburned
Hair ripping sunlight
as that semi pressed and passed us
standin’ still as a school bus
And we signaled ‘im for the horn
pulling our fists down on the air
Ya know, we were celebrating!
his response in kind!
Sweaty kids snoozed
stuck to naugahide
nodding under ball caps
Slumped over souvenirs
Happiness marooned in the third seat
Feb 13, 2019
Feb 13, 2019 at 2:21 PM UTC
Even from across the room
Violet crescent moons age her youthful face
Black makeup smudged under her eyelashes
And hair in a messy bun but still slightly curled
The only remnants of the night before
Evidence of a snoozed alarm and
Lack of sleep
Exhausted
Both mentally and physically
She tries desperately to grasp full consciousness
As she begins her work
Earbuds submerged in her ears
Leaving the world around her behind
Engulfing her into a world of art
Both visual and musical
Where sonnets become songs
And bars of notes start to form beauty
Eraser shavings everywhere
Either on the paper or pushed aside
Her hands move swiftly to the beat
For once just let me lose myself
And she does
In her art
She glances back and forth between papers
One a model and one her masterpiece
Not fully formed
Precision is key
Perfection
Ruler to ensure exactness
Eraser to rid of mistakes
She draws one line perfectly straight
And leans back
She contemplates and shakes her head
Then omits it
Goes back again to draw another
A twin to the first
The process is endless
Striving for impossible perfection
When true imperfect goodness is there
Underneath the frustration and complexity
Is simple and utter beauty
What is perfection
When you can have art?
December 2013
Jul 23, 2014
Jul 23, 2014 at 1:52 AM UTC
I dabble in the partial arts
in tasting wines and shopping carts with shaky wheels
and all the prizes never won
for half baked pies and smiling eyes and flaky deals.
time will tell if this gets done
though time is never on the run nor one for waiting
no matter what you do or choose
or what you keep or what you lose, that sunset's fading
Like that worm who never made the hook
I slept too late and never read the book
the early bird was out cold when you came
I knew the plays but snoozed before the game.
a million pieces of my heart
in all the things I start but never finish
and every thing that's left undone
is just a sign I'm on the run lest I diminish
and if I stop to take a breath
and contemplate my hour of death, I'd have to wonder
what then would be my last request
to sit with winners I detest or rather one more chance to be a blunder?
.
Sep 10, 2013
Sep 10, 2013 at 9:45 AM UTC
Lydia sat
on the red painted
brick front doorstep
of her parents'
ground floor flat,
in a mood,
fuming,
elbows on her knees,
chin on hands,
staring out
at the Square.
Behind her
in the flat
her parents rowed:
he arguing he had
come home drunk,
yes, but he had
sung to her:
I'll walk you
home again Kathleen,
and she(the wife)
saying: and all
the fecking Square
could hear you,
and I'm not Kathleen,
so who the fecks
this Kathleen?
Her big brother Hem
was out pulling wings
off butterflies or flies
or teasing the girls
on the block.
Her big sister Gloria
snoozed hangovered
in the bed snoring.
Lydia wanted
Benny to come by,
wanted his ear to hear,
his voice to calm her
and make her pleased.
The baker drew up
in his horse-drawn wagon
and got off
and got loaves
from the back
and took them
to the flats he knew.
She watched him walk,
and his horse
stand still nose
in a nosebag, eating.
The rows indoors
continued.
The horse stood
still eating.
Benny came across
from his parents' flat
upstairs,
hazel eyed
and quiff of brown hair
and a smile.
What are you
doing sitting there?
He said.
Waiting for you,
she said.
What's up?
He asked.
She nodded back
towards the flat
behind her
and rowing voices.
What's it about?
He asked.
Dad came home
drunk last night,
singing to the new moon
and my mother
on the doorstep
and an unholy hour,
she said.
And so?
Said Benny,
what's new?
He sang I'll walk
you home again Kathleen
and my mum's
not Kathleen,
Lydia said.
Where we going?
He said.
Not Southend or Edinburgh
that's for sure,
she said,
somewhere to get
away from this
until the air is cleared.
London Bridge
train station watch
the steam trains,
have glasses of milk
and biscuits?
He said,
I've some money.
She nodded,
looked back
the rowing flat,
sighed and took his hand
and walked through
the Square leaving
the rowing behind,
and down the slope
to get the bus
to the station.
Benny by her side,
walking and talking,
watching boys
on the wall,
rude words chalking.
Aug 18, 2016
Aug 18, 2016 at 9:30 AM UTC
It had been three months
since I last saw my face in the mirror.
One might wonder, why that long?
You see, there is something about mirrors
something about looking at yourself
and not having a conversation
just looking, observing and looking again.
That, does not sit well with me.
What if the other man talks back?
Or, what if he comes out and strangles me
and becomes me?
I do not want to give him that power.
Today, however, I looked in the mirror
My heart clenched like a baby's fist
when I saw how old I had become
how the wrinkles on my forehead curved
as if to make a mockery of the trajectory of my life.
I had never noticed the changes
because I had always embraced the child beneath
forgetting the child had become a man
and no ritual had been done for the initiation.
I had blossomed beneath the petals but I had
chosen to ignore the feeling
Right there, I could see all the talent
and the potential I had slept on
each time I snoozed my alarm for another 15 minutes
hoping to get more rest from my dreamless state.
But you see, one cannot sleep forever
unless they choose to do so.
And this is a path I told myself never to take
for I still want to travel to the far lands
and see how the children yonder dance to the rhythm of the winds
I still want to listen to the cracking laughter of my lover
when I retell one of my old jokes,
the one she has heard 42 times so far.
I still want to drink some of the local brew at the old shelter
and dance shirtless on top of one of the wooden tables
and feel my skin vibrate to the sound of the drums
coming from the big old speakers placed in the corner of the dark room
Most importantly, I want to move away from this mirror
and stop looking at myself
because it is making me talk a lot.
Jun 1, 2022
Jun 1, 2022 at 3:29 PM UTC
From my sound sleep, I heard that sound again.
Oh, it's just the alarm.
"Will you hear me out now?" says the snooze.
I thought that I just need more time to rest.
I snoozed it again.
After a few minutes, he asked me again, "Will you hear me out now?"
I turned it off.
What do I do now?
Should I push myself up? Or get back to sleep?
May 20, 2020
May 20, 2020 at 2:18 PM UTC
You are a grey guitar
wailing
a sandstorm
adding the grit to my teeth
a white pearl necklace
falling over a lady's bare chest
A lonely birthday
where no one calls but the deskman
I asked you
so I knew.
I turned you
from a cherry sweet Sunday
to this.
Look!
What have you done to my pleasant canyon dream?
I woke, and snoozed the alarm four times this morning.
Each time,
last night was still there
boring into me
a metal casket
creaking open and then
finally
CRASH
closing shut.
Oct 17, 2018
Oct 17, 2018 at 4:31 AM UTC
"I sit in a grand oak tree,
I wonder if it knows it's me?
It's halfway through June,
And it's been long since noon,
I spent the hour climbing up its strong limbs,
I couldn't help but give away a grin,
The leaves would playfully slap at my face,
Before they would settle back into place,
The woodpecker gave a startled look,
As I disturbed him from his quiet nook,
And the passing bumblebee,
Eyed me curiously,
But finally I reached my spot,
Quite comfortable and out of earshot,
And I snoozed the day away,
Feeling the whisper of the wind where I lay,
Shuffling the leaves like a deck of cards,
And swaying the branches over my yard,
Watching the sun slowly slip down,
I gave out a small frown,
For my day was slipping away like the sun,
It was like a tearful goodbye to a loved one,
Soon rose the silvery moon,
And I had to leave soon,
I whispered to the tree goodbye,
I'll try to be back for sunrise."
May 26, 2018
May 26, 2018 at 7:26 PM UTC
a warm, windy, muggy day
where i have blissfully snoozed the arvo away.
men parade the streets chanting about home,
the football hits the net repeatedly whilst my mind puts on a show.
i am always dreaming of you,
i hate that i do.
not you,
but me,
why have i so suddenly gotten back the capacity to dream?
Jun 24, 2018
Jun 24, 2018 at 11:50 AM UTC