The last Word

44 comments

Spheres of Inner Geometry

It’s been five hours, and

I’m wide awake. The clock 

ticking away at its own joke.

Tock – Tock! –

Enough! I’m suing for lost time.

I let it slide far too long –

too old for tock-tock jokes.

The Sandman late again…

Twelve happy sheep lining 

the jury box – tired of 

hitting a brick wall, they’re looking

forward to the show.

Speed of Inner Lines

The familiar smell of popcorn

tickling my nose while 

Mrs. Sand pounds on the drums –

Mr. Sand rehearsing recycled script.

Father Time sittin’ behind the bench

wearing a white wig – smiling cause 

 his costume arrived early from Amazon.

A few hours strolling in late,

tired from their unexpected flight –

Court is now in session!

The clock in charge of minutes.

Speed of Inner Lines

Mr. Sand, how do you plead?

Not guilty – for it is not I

who lost those hours

wandering my sands at night!

And they can never be returned.

Most too weary for further travel.

Soon they will sleep in sandy beds –

save these three you see here.

But your Honor, I need them all

to make up the difference!

To which Father Time calmly replies

in a voice befitting his costume:

Synergies of Inner Lines

My dear child, perhaps first

you should tend to those still

in your care, treating each

one with like respect.

Perhaps then, you would not mourn

 time lost, disturbing those at rest.

And may I suggest that you too

get some rest, using the few hours left –

Tomorrow spotted through the window.

Synergies of Inner Lines

©Brenda Baker 2016

Inspired by this week’s bout of insomnia. I never take a good night’s sleep for granted. 🙂

44 comments on “The last Word”

  1. Having suffered from insomnia through most of my twenties, I think you caught the sensation perfectly. I loved “Twelve happy sheep lining the jury box” I did like the imagery of that.

    Your poetry is lovely, though it is saddening that your inspiration had to come from suffering insomnia.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you for your wonderful feedback, Ari. 🙂 I suspect that as writers, we take our inspiration from wherever it stems. It was the only good thing that came from three sleepless nights. This week, I did sleep much better. 🙂

      Liked by 1 person

  2. Your poem spoke to me as if you were living my nights.

    It is so easy to blame ourselves for the lack of sleep. We want a reason why and when there is no reason to it we believe it must be a failure on our part that is causing the problem.

    I used to be one of those people who put her head on the pillow and she was out for the night. Now, I’m almost there…almost to sleep, and I bounce upward to wakefulness as if bouncing off a celestial trampoline.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. It runs in my family unfortunately. It didn’t hit me until my 30s. And when it hit, it hit hard. I’ve been fighting it ever since. We like to swap stories in my family about what works and what doesn’t. I have it down to phases now. It’s brutal when it hits out of nowhere. I use to wonder at the cause, but I’ve given up. I’m not sure there is an explanation beyond genetics. For a while, I was able to fall asleep by reciting my own poems to myself. I’m not sure what that says about my writings lol. It doesn’t work anymore. I just hope for the best until I find something else that works. I love your reference to a celestial trampoline btw. There’s a fantastic image. 🙂 I hope you sleep well tonight. I’d also like to thank you for reading this and commenting. 🙂

      Liked by 1 person

    1. I suffer from sleeping problems. I never take a good night’s sleep for granted. When I wrote this, I was experiencing a string of sleepless nights, so I wanted to have some fun. 🙂 I have discovered a breathing exercise which does help a little.

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