Insomnia and poetry

When I can't sleep I tend to write. I am naturally a night owl and feel more creative at night. Having recently come back from a holiday in Corfu full of late nights my body clock is completely out of sync. Tonight I watched the film insomnia with Al Pacino and Robin Williams. Pacino's character is a cop tying to solve a murder investigation that takes him to Alaska. Alaska has long daylight hours in the summer that extend into the night making sleep difficult. Pacino's character can't cope with this and goes around in a daze because of lack of sleep from insomnia. I go through stages of having difficulty sleeping. It's fine when I get there but drifting off is not always easy. I can't sleep without blackout blinds and complete silence. Ticking clocks are banned, snoring husbands are often jabbed in the side, and noisy neighbours exterminated. OK, well maybe not the last one but you get the drift. I call my preferred sleep pattern 'Jo time' which means sleeping about 2.00am and waking about 9.00am. I have been on extended Jo time which is fine for holidays and essay writing (I finished my last essay required for my Baptist minister accreditation recently) but not good now that I am back at work. Last night was my worse night sleep, if you can call it that, for a long time. When I was at college facing an essay deadline I would stay up all night writing, I wrote better and faster at night than in the morning, it made good sense to me. My husband is a lark and goes to work very early. He would be going to work and I would just be going to bed about 5.00am. We still laugh about that. This morning he was surprised to find me wide awake at 4.30am when he was leaving for working. Somewhat dazed from lack of sleep and extremely overtired but happily writing silly poems. 

I like the quietness and solitude I find at night when the rest of the world is still. The only sound being the neighbours cats bounding through the cat-flap to steal my cats' food. I feel closest to God during that time. This is often when he speaks to me, or at least this is when I hear his voice more clearly. 

Here are my silly poems written in the wee small hours, just for your amusement.

Sardines

The arch of the back.
The curve of spine.
She stretches her paws,
Her claws open wide

The roar of the fire.
The spitting of logs.
She opens her eyes,
Her body unties.

The sound of the can.
The smell of sardines.
She yawns and blinks,
Her nose twitches quick.

The call of her name.
The reality dawns.
She pounces once more,
Her tail leaves through the door.

The purr from the floor.
The look of delight.
She eats and eats,
Her yearning now ceased.

The head lifted high.
The cleaning of fur.
She returns to her seat,
Her home by my feet.

© revdjo 19/6/13






Sleep is elusive
 
Sleep is elusive
She hides in the night.
Is she under the bed covers
When I turned out the light?
I saw her at lunch time
About 2 o'clock.
She called out my name
But I couldn't stop.

Sleep is elusive
She hides in the night.
Is she under the pillow
When I ponder at night?
I caught a glimpse
But only a fraction.
I held out my hand
It was just a distraction.

Sleep is elusive
She hides in the night.
Is she laughing at me
When I try to unwind?
I poured her warm milk
I offered her wine.
I ran her a bath
But still she declined.

Sleep is elusive
She hides in the night.
Is she sleeping at your house
And playing around?
I gave her my heart
And my soul, my mind.
I offered her cream cakes
And toad in the hole.

I know that I'm desperate
And clutching at straws
But it's almost tomorrow
The birds beckon dawn.
She's all that I have,
She's all that I dream for.
Tell her I love her
I forgive her once more...

As long as she promises
To knock at my door.

Sleep is elusive
She hides in the night.
She's fickle that women
Who runs in the night.

© revdjo 19/6/13