An immense distance from sleep
remote from enfolding
I lost the count of sheep 
 
Some veiled light trespassed
and where moths had chewed an exit
moonbeams were lasering the bed

His belongings uncollected, hung about
as pinpoints, one by one - 
through mirrored eyes the raincoat 

beckoned. Willing me back
to dark corners and rendezvous
to have, to hold and ransack

those closeted of nooks. Adulterated 
haikus slung from bonsai trees 
stifled, truncated, perfected

An immense fist beat on my head;
- he was long gone, like the moths
and I hang by a loosening  thread

40 thoughts on “Tired of waiting”

1. That distance from sleep really set the stage… love the scene with haikus and bonsai trees…

   1. thank you – a cryptic metaphor there!

2. “His belongings uncollected, hung about
   as pinpoints” really resonates with me.

   1. many thanks Melissa for picking out that

3. This is absolutely exquisite, Laura! I love the image of bonsai trees and those haikus 😍😍

   1. your prompt line was so serendipitous – thanks Sanaa

      1. You’re welcome! 😘 I am glad to hear that! 💜

4. The Rilke epigraphy seeps through all the exempla which follow where absence is so present.

   1. ooh that paradox is perfect Brendan

5. Neither awake nor asleep–those visions are the most tactile and real. (K)

   1. spaces of transition – they are in our every days

6. I read your title and immediately began humming the old Kinks’ song, Laura! I know that feeling of being ‘an immense distance from sleep’, and you’ve captured it well. I love the imagery in:

   ‘Some veiled light trespassed
   and where moths had chewed an exit
   moonbeams were lasering the bed’.

   I also love the ‘adulterated haikus slung from bonsai trees stifled, truncated, perfected’.

   1. many thanks Kim for singing along enjoying the strung out feelings in that stanza

      1. My pleasure, Laura.

7. You have distilled so much about the human condition Laura, the times when sleep won’t come, the loss that is inevitable with mortality however it happens, and the last stanza is where we may all find ourselves “hang[ing] by a loosening thread”…

   1. many thanks Andrew – poetry is distillation and I take heart that you found so much here

8. Such a beautifully crafted poem of loss, memory, and perhaps regret. I love sleep as place, to travel there is to go a distance. I wonder at the “adulterated haiku”–and the palpable, poignant last phrase.

   1. thank you for your observations Merril and not least for picking up on that cryptic haiku

      1. You’re very welcome, Laura.

9. As always your poems resonate on a deep level … I was particularly struck by the raincoat, as animated, almost alive, I could feel it calling out. Thanks for a great read.

   1. thank you for such encouraging words Helen

10. What a powerful poem, Laura! I was not expecting that last stanza at all.

    1. Alls well that ends well – a whole new meaning to the saying 😉

11. Love, in particular, the image of haikus slung from bonsai trees. They fit!!

    1. thanks Yvonne – they fit this relationship!

12. Wonderful Laura — love you friend… 🙂

    1. thanks Rob

13. Rilke is a dangerment when entering the poet chamber. He looses our deepest hid tears and frees the moths of heartbreak to escape, openly uttered

    1. an ode to Rilke – thank you Charley for your lyrical feedback

14. Always so good to read here…long gone like the moths..adulterated haiku hanging from trees…superb atmosphere and feeling.

    1. many thanks Ain for such positive words

15. Love this Laura, “some veiled light …” evocative for me.

    1. glad you picked up on that Paul as the poem itself has several veiled references 😉

       1. Indeed 🙂

16. Loneliness (after a loved one’s departure, I presume) so evocatively expressed. Your light as mousse metaphors raise the bar once again. “Adulterated haikus slung from bonsai trees” so cryptic! Laura, this was a tour de force.

    1. ‘light as mousse’ – a simile I shall not forget! thank you for lifting my confidence

       1. Laura, if I could write like you, my confidence would be sky-high!🙂
          You are very welcome.❤️

          1. ☺️

17. “to have, to hold, to ransack/those closeted nooks”: what grief does to us, Laura, exquisitely expressed.

    1. Thank you Dora – grief and regret a potent mix

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