I always drank my tea unsweetened.
or that blackbirds are as me.
Remembering or rearranging or forgetting.
while waiting to be saved.
and asking questions never to be answered.
the hard work in vain to reach the island of awakeness.
Today we have MTB on sleep at dVerse. Frank hosts and you are free to write using any tool in your poetic toolbox. Bar opens at 9 PM CET.
Sweet mother of pearl, Bjorn. Your poetry is really elevated lately. I’m seriously impressed.
while waiting to be saved” … I love this!
It is pure joy to read this most excellent piece. Keep it up, B. ~Whatever you’re doing.
Thank you… it tends to be better whenever I do metaphors.
Sleep is like drug of happiness for me.
Sleep makes me feel fresh.
There is something about the sipping tea that pulled me in, and “the steady beat of teaspoons stirring.” The imagery created its own rhythm and set the mood for me. Well done.
What a wonderful batch of sleep stanzas, brother. I always enjoy the ease with which you shift from concrete to abstract imagery. You influenced me to do short stanzas too–american sentences, collom lunes, tanka & haiku. I like your line /or that blackbirds are as me/.
Very many and unusual descriptions of sleep. They all get me thinking, but in particular the fourth one about shredding poetry and the last about the work involved with trying to wake up.
the hard work in vain to reach the island of awakeness’.
This poem makes me think about a Dali painting and…sleep.
Strange, isn’t it, the places we visit and revisit in our sleep. I find I often return to the home where I raised my children. I loved your metaphors, so beautifully descriptive!
Sleep is all things – I could relate to each stanza.
Fantastic instances…….I especially love the tea drinking….and your closing lines……..awakening is what we all need to be doing, all over the planet. Loved this, Bjorn.
The meter is a slow amble through deep woods. Enjoyed greatly!
“………to reach the island of awareness.” Yes and swimming to it!
I love the formatting of this poem. How cozy it began, and how chilling it grew. VII and VIII are just stunning!
Lovely troubled images across the eight hours of the night. The progressive strangeness. The graveyard – foreshadowed by the teaspoons, the quiet room, the well, the blackbirds. Rich and dark.
You have some real gems here, I especially enjoyed III, IV, V and oh, the last one is perfect, swimming to reach the island of awakening. I think my arms might get tired swimming across the great divide.
Number 6. This happens to my husband who’s named after his great grandfather.
I listened to Fur Elise while reading this. 🙂 I get faint T.S. Eliot vibes from this, it is surreal, comforting and disquieting. The structure of this makes it easy to read and I especially liked that stanza V. –Excellent!
I’d like to steal these words… tattoo worthy.
This was a not too subtle reference to 13 ways to look at blackbirds.
What a geyser of metaphor! I would love to hear this read aloud in a Leonard Cohen-esque voice to some United States of Poetry synthesizer. And I’m reading this while drinking tea to fight a cold! Thank you for these gift verses!
I love the dreamy ramble of this stream of consciousness infused piece – gathering little metaphoric gems along the way. My two favorites: ‘Sleep is to be surprised with details’ – WOW, and ‘Sleep is shredding poetry I’ve never read.’ … DOUBLE WOW!!
Love this clever way of saying it, Bjorn! Sleep is not being aware, that’s why!
Yes, sleep itself is a metaphor, like nothing else, except maybe death?
Although sleeping for some time with regards to blogging – I do still read. And reading the above I am seriously impressed too.. I did intend to respond earlier – but things got in the way.