Friday, April 12, 2019

April 11, 2019 National Poetry Writing Month

Bedtime

Alone, in the darkness of my brain,
I pass through waning light of day.
As seeds of sleep gently rain
O’er the day’s restless replays.

From three screens visions alight
On glowing diodes of news and sports 
Like the neon gods that split the night,
Keeping silence from finding port.

Within the darkness, griefs arising,
Yet none is there to hear their cries
My voice calls out without speaking,
Drifting words away to starlit skies.

One by one the screens go dark
As the silence, like cancer, grows
My teardrops crush dying sparks
Fading away on a dampened pillow.

While prayers echo off the walls
That silence ends, and life renews
But no one’s there to hear the calls
And the brain’s darkness grows anew.

The seeds of sleep still rain down
While foolish dreams drown away
The body’s battle, tossing around
‘Til silence overwhelms the day.

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