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Poems On / About SLEEP  5/30/2015 1:21:11 PM
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  277.     

A Bed For Sleep

A BED FOR SLEEP

Sleeping sleeping first and last
Resting testing nights sleep
Living beings sleeping best
And yawn it’s nice peep

Child comes out with morning
Old goes along with the evening
No one avoid a chance of rest
Also in world of sleepless nest

Nature make the flower bed
And man form the cotton bed
Water bed brought by river
Woolen bed gave by sheep

But I cannot sleep on these beds
All are uncomfortable for my sleep
I felt a nice bed on the heaven
That will be stuffed with fairy tales

If I not get a bed I will rest
At the bed of my heart
That I could get not in worst
I am searching for that dream bed.
 
lino john

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  278.     

The Hill

Where are Elmer, Herman, Bert, Tom, and Charley,
The weak of will, the strong of arm, the clown, the boozer, the fighter?
All, all, are sleeping on the hill.

One passed in a fever,
One was burned in a mine,
One was killed in a brawl,
One died in jail,
One fell from a bridge toiling for children and wife--
All, all are sleeping, sleeping, sleeping on the hill.

Where are Ella, Kate, Mag, Lizzie, and Edith,
The tender heart, the simple soul, the loud, the proud, the happy one?--
All, all, are sleeping on the hill.

One died in shameful child-birth,
One of a thwarted love,
One at the hands of a brute in a brothel,
One of a broken pride, in a search for a heart's desire,
One after life in faraway London and Paris
Was brought to her little space by Ella and Kate and Mag--
All, all are sleeping, sleeping, sleeping on the hill.

Where are Uncle Issac and Aunt Emily,
And old Towny Kincaid and Sevigne Houghton,
And Major Walker who had talked
With veneravle men of the revolution?--
All, all, are sleeping on the hill.

They brought them dead sons from the war,
And daughters whom life had crushed,
And their children fatherless, crying--
All, all are sleeping, sleeping, sleeping on the hill.

Where is old Fiddler Jones
Who played with life all his ninety years,
Braving the sleet with bared breast,
Drinking, rioting, thinking neither of wife nor kin,
Nor gold, nor love, nor heaven?
Lo! he babbles of the fish-frys of long ago,
Of the horse-races long ago at Clary's Grove,
Of what Abe Lincoln said
One time at Springfield.
 
Edgar Lee Masters

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Read more: paris poems, london poems, children poems, fish poems, horse poems, birth poems, pride poems, war poems, happy poems, child poems, heaven poems, life poems, heart poems, fishing poems, daughter poems, sleep poems, son poems
   
 

   
   
 

  279.     

Sleep

Sleep
Sleep tight
Hold on to
The dreams
You have at night
Sleep
 
Molly O'Shaunessy

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  280.     

Sleep, Sleep, My Sweet One Sleep

Sleep, sleep, my sweet one sleep
Let the film of Morpheus come
Like a veiled mist
And visit your eye-lids
And in the airs around
Invisible a sweet sylph sings
A lulling lullaby.


Sleep, sleep, my sweet one sleep
And woes forget and ills
And wrongs and plots
And treacheries:
Like a veiled mist
Dreams are falling through
Falling
Falling
Falling thro’ your eye-lids thick
With the lead of Morpheus awhile
A sylph doth sing
A lulling lullaby.


Sleep, sleep, my sweet one sleep
And think of day and night
And dusk and dawn
And even
As one film images pass
Along your eyes a-dreaming
a-dreaming
A-dreaming
Awhile
A sylph doth sing
A lulling lullaby.
 
Emmanuel George Cefai

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Poems On / About SLEEP