I did not pray tonight
just sat by the wishing fountain
to keep a long-dead child’s ghost company
–born a century ago, her life cut short at ½ my age–
flat broke w/ no spare change to part with
my empty pockets cough up nothing
but a used handkerchief
I did not sleep tonight
just an aimless cyclist
wandering these streets
going nowhere for ungodly hours
as a shilling moon lit the way
w/ little traffic to negotiate
and loving every minute of it
I did not dream tonight
just listened to the waterfall’s
deep baritone song
and, as audience, found calm
in its thunderous drone
until trumpeting geese in nocturnal courtship
broke the spell
Thanks for the feedback Alexistentialism - this was one of those organic poems that just sort of wrote itself while I was out of the house late one night exploring the town but with no conscious destination, just going wherever and whenever the moment called me to. I wasn’t exactly bored from insomnia --was, in fact, feeling both hyper-connected and disconnected at the same time-- just felt like biking around late at night as I occasionally do and this poem was a biproduct of that noctu0nal sojourn.
Thanks UGM, I’m not sure I overtly intended its tone to evoke a bittersweet feeling - more that I felt detatched from myself and yet more fully attached to my surroundings. It’s as if “I” wasn’t there even though I was but something greater and more real than myself filled the void, but that’s me interpreting my own poem and your welcome to your own interpretation which is just as valid as mine or anyone else’s. B/c I highly respect your writing and balanced yet uncontained --unafraid to show your teeth when it’s called for-- critique-style, I always value your feedback.
I got from this poem that you felt obligated to not sleep. Perhaps you did it for this child you speak of. Also, the scenes you set seem very close, like we’ve all been there.
It wasn’t that I felt obligated not to sleep and it wasn’t an insomniac episode - wasn’t that I was tired but couldn’t find sleep so I chose instead to burn off my fatigue by riding my bike late at night. You see I’m a natural night person and I was working a job that typically scheduled me to work late evening shifts until 10 or midnight or later and so I’d be up 'til 2 or 4 or later sometimes --however I tend ot function best if I get to sleep at least by 3 or 4 AM if I work that type of schedule-- and this was one of those nights when I had some things on my mind but wasn’t dwelling on them to the point of insomnia. I just had a surplus of energy . The best way I can think of describing what I was feeling at the time --looking back and articulating into inadequate words-- was that it seemed like I needed a spell of what I now call out-of-body/out-of-mind/out-of-place/out-of-time iintrospection and that’s what the night presented in this poem did for me.
It wasn’t that I felt obligated not to sleep and it wasn’t an insomniac episode - wasn’t that I was tired but couldn’t find sleep so I chose instead to burn off my fatigue by riding my bike late at night. You see I’m a natural night person and I was working a job that typically scheduled me to work late evening shifts until 10 or midnight or later and so I’d be up 'til 2 or 4 or later sometimes --however I tend ot function best if I get to sleep at least by 3 or 4 AM if I work that type of schedule-- and this was one of those nights when I had some things on my mind but wasn’t dwelling on them to the point of insomnia. I just had a surplus of energy . The best way I can think of describing what I was feeling at the time --looking back and articulating into inadequate words-- was that it seemed like I needed a spell of what I now call out-of-body/out-of-mind/out-of-place/out-of-time iintrospection and that’s what the night presented in this poem did for me.