dirt on the welcome mat

Tag Archives: sleep

Ageless, or rather
Every awkward age,
Every noise,
Every cage
They clang on top
Of my head,
My bed groans
Under the weight
Of so many sounds,
Pillows clash like cymbals
Against both ears,
But as I mash my mind
Against the mattress,
I wait to hear
Something interesting.


Good night,

Sleep tight,

Have dreams about the brightest light

That’s ever reached

Your pretty heart

Wake with a smile because you might

Just break through

To someone’s thoughts,

Like stars shooting into sight.


We shift to sleep,

Downward like gears in a car,

Kettle bells an extension of our arms,

Elevator arrow down,

No lullabies just sighs to snores

To sunlight in the morning.


The young sleeping monster

Rests his snoring head

On a cave

Nearly empty,

Except for two bloody bits

Of bone.

Nothing dares disturb the

Solitude except one other,

Larger beast.

Reaching into the

Pocket of darkness

With claws outstretched,

She holds her breath,

Snatching and substituting

With invisible instinct.

Then retreating into the night,

She clutches

Her stolen piece

Of childhood fantasy.


Seven sleepers

Wrapped in fuzzy

Bright blanket cocoons

Are attached

By nature’s law of rest

To mossy green carpet

On their classroom floor.

They wriggle and shift

In their slumber sacs,

Some breathing heavily

As they struggle

In dreams

To break free.


Warbled syllables and slurred phrases

Slide under my covers and sink into my pillow as I sleep.

They share lies about me along with my deepest secrets,

Thrown together like a gossip magazine.

Deafened by dreams,

My ears are spared the saga

Until smiled comments and friendly jokes

Unveil the latest evening news.