Too Many Thoughts

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Too Many Thoughts

Slumbering in my bed
when suddenly I’m awake
I want to go to sleep
but now it’s just too late.

I hate when I can’t sleep
the things that cross my mind
the creeping thoughts intrude
I need an interlude.

Once my mind wakes up
the body has to follow
so here I sit alone
trying to write this poem.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2017

Writing about insomnia with my friends at Imaginary Garden Of Real Toads. I used to have insomnia but I learned how to sleep better. This poem tells of a time when I used to get up and try to do something constructive when I couldn’t sleep. I read about how to sleep last year and found out it was something I had to work at like anything else worth doing in my life. I wouldn’t give it up for anything.

Tuesday Lost

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Tuesday Lost

I woke up this Tuesday
it was foggy and gray
local news was boring
my cat was snoring
nobody around
there was not a sound
so I looked outside
as I tried to decide
just what I could do
on a day so blue.

Coffee broke my fast
but that didn’t last
fatigued to doom
I retired to my room
I picked up a book
to take a look,
“Beware,” it read,
“this will go to your head.”

I woke up this Tuesday
instead, it was Wednesday
just around dawn
as time had crept on
a most tedious day
literally slept away.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2015

Sharing this poem from the past with Imaginary Garden With Real Toads on a Tuesday much like the one I wrote about in 2015. Photography of San Francisco under the weather by Gary Lo.

I want to ride my bike but the weather has been foggy and very windy for days on end. I anxiously wait for the wind to calm down in the mornings so I can enjoy my rides. Biking on the San Francisco Bay trails is a real downer when riding for miles into the wind.

Sdrawkcab Poem

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Sdrawkcab Poem

My cat was begging to be fed
I brushed the cobwebs from my head
and when I got up from my bed
I did it backward style instead.

A backward world is what I found
my cat was making backward sounds
my room was backward all around
absurdly backward-so profound.

My cat was begging to be fed
as I awoke with certain dread
’twas just a dream I had instead
and sighing just went back to bed.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2017

Casey Weldon is an American artist best known for his use of melancholy and humor in conjunction with the iconography of modern pop culture, leading his critics to designate his style as “post-pop surrealism.” He’s a Californian artist and I found this picture to use after I wrote my poem. Source: Wikipedia

Written for the prompt irony from dVerse~Poets Pub.

Good Night

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Good Night

The evening shadows grow and play
as the sun extinguishes its rays
another day has ticked away
and marvelous dreams are underway.

The man in the moon is on display
as twinkling stars show me the way
my bedroom now so far away
until I wake to greet the day.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2017

Written with Saturdays Image Write.

Early Crocus (Too Soon)

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Early Crocus (Too Soon)

Deep in the earth it was time to wake
wake and bloom my place to take
sleeping all winter under the ground
waiting for spring so I could astound
sending out shoots for over a week
ready I was to have my first peek
slowly opening ready to show
only to find myself covered in snow!

© Rebecca Sanchez 2017

I got this idea from the Crocus (which sometimes blooms in the snow) and this image. The Crocus is one of my favorite flowers we used to have them in the backyard in Indiana and they always came up first.

Written with dVerse~Poets Pub.

Night Trains

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Night Trains

No matter where I fall asleep
it’s always the same
I lie there listening to the night trains.

The whistles echoing through the night
enjoying the sounds instead of the sight
clickety clack
goes the track
in dreamland forgone
I ride till the dawn.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2017

This is so true! I have a great fondness for sounds like this at night to help me sleep and listen to 3 hours of sounds that sooth me when I go to bed at night. It seems one can hear trains at night just about anywhere.

This is a 44 word Quadrille written with dVerse~Poets Pub and shared with Imaginary Garden Of Real Toads.

Sleep Tight

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Sleep Tight

In deepest slumber
when tired we seem
we go to sleep
perchance to dream.

The man in the moon
playfully winking
suddenly frowns
his mood is sinking.

The starlight fading
blacker than black
from this trance
you won’t come back.

Sleep like the dead
or so they say
tonight’s the night
asleep you’ll stay.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2016

Written with Imaginary Garden Of Real Toads and shared with Poets United.