Scantily scattered moonlight filtered through the canopy of broken clouds and leaves... Moon beams strewn sloppily onto the midnight floor as blurred sleepless eyes scan the shadowed field through the bars of the big brass bed.
A poem by Harlon Rivers.... a Word Whisperer chapter
A poem by Harlon Rivers.... a Word Whisperer chapter
Scantily scattered moonlight
filtered through the canopy
of broken clouds and leaves
Moon beams strewn sloppily
onto the midnight wooden floor
as blurred sleepless eyes scan
the shadowed field through the bars
of the big brass bed.
Opened window's fragrant air
chills to the bone
serving a cold reminder
that now is here.
The frogs croak so boisterously,
through the open window,
their annoying echo disturbs
the peaceful serenity
of the stone cold silence
from the dimly lit night.
They echo the sounds
of insomnia…
Scenes play out
across the satin
clad feather pillows
as if some old drive-in
movie projector re-ran
the same reel over and over
onto the giant screen's
dreamscape in my mind.
Tossing and turning
as each new scene fades.
Those scratches on that
favorite record with
tattered and frayed cover
from a distant memory
Imperfections make the song skip
in the exact spot each time
the player replays
Lost moments ruminate
as the record spins
Projecting the picture onto
the pillowed screen’s
silky thread count
Convoluted dreams seen
through the blinking dark circled
exhausted minds eyes
Only in insomniac lucid dreams
does silent reverie evolve
into tortuous nightmares
Never silencing the croaking frogs,
subtle yet raucous reminder,
that soon dawn will arrive
The cockaded crow's "caw" " cawing"
laughs haughtily at the orange sunrise
ending another loathsome
sleepless night
alone...
© 2011,2012, 2013 ... Harlon Rivers
May 7th, 2013
Diary of an Insomniac’s Moonstruck
Reverie....day #1
After reviewing the genres of my writing for the past couple of years, I have discovered a large category of creative writing is inspired during the constant insomnia I endure. A type of Insomniac daydreams at night as another state of mind takes me to the secret places where the sleepless "Dreamweaver" within, ruminates the chimera of the past, present and future without inhibitions. Here you will find the echos of the sounds of insomnia ...
This poetry blog will be under construction for a bit and then will be linked as a Word Whisperer chapter, so if you have come here while a work in progress, the links will be provided to the original " Word Whisperer home page "
"My name is Harlon Rivers and I am an Insomniac !"
filtered through the canopy
of broken clouds and leaves
Moon beams strewn sloppily
onto the midnight wooden floor
as blurred sleepless eyes scan
the shadowed field through the bars
of the big brass bed.
Opened window's fragrant air
chills to the bone
serving a cold reminder
that now is here.
The frogs croak so boisterously,
through the open window,
their annoying echo disturbs
the peaceful serenity
of the stone cold silence
from the dimly lit night.
They echo the sounds
of insomnia…
Scenes play out
across the satin
clad feather pillows
as if some old drive-in
movie projector re-ran
the same reel over and over
onto the giant screen's
dreamscape in my mind.
Tossing and turning
as each new scene fades.
Those scratches on that
favorite record with
tattered and frayed cover
from a distant memory
Imperfections make the song skip
in the exact spot each time
the player replays
Lost moments ruminate
as the record spins
Projecting the picture onto
the pillowed screen’s
silky thread count
Convoluted dreams seen
through the blinking dark circled
exhausted minds eyes
Only in insomniac lucid dreams
does silent reverie evolve
into tortuous nightmares
Never silencing the croaking frogs,
subtle yet raucous reminder,
that soon dawn will arrive
The cockaded crow's "caw" " cawing"
laughs haughtily at the orange sunrise
ending another loathsome
sleepless night
alone...
© 2011,2012, 2013 ... Harlon Rivers
May 7th, 2013
Diary of an Insomniac’s Moonstruck Reverie....day #1
Diary of an Insomniac’s Moonstruck Reverie....day #1
After reviewing the genres of my writing for the past couple of years, I have discovered a large category of creative writing is inspired during the constant insomnia I endure. A type of Insomniac daydreams at night as another state of mind takes me to the secret places where the sleepless "Dreamweaver" within, ruminates the chimera of the past, present and future without inhibitions. Here you will find the echos of the sounds of insomnia ...
This poetry blog will be under construction for a bit and then will be linked as a Word Whisperer chapter, so if you have come here while a work in progress, the links will be provided to the original " Word Whisperer home page "
"My name is Harlon Rivers and I am an Insomniac !"
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Please feel free to share your thoughts... Thank you for reading and please come back again~ Harlon Rivers