sleep

“Cuddle me”

sung by Andreas Bocelli

Ulysses
by James Joyce

“O and the sea the sea crimson sometimes like fire and the glorious sunsets and the
figtrees in the Alameda gardens yes and all the queer little streets and pink and blue
and yellow houses and the rosegardens and the jessamine and geraniums and
cactuses and Gibraltar as a girl where I was a Flower of the mountain yes when I put
the rose in my hair like the Andalusian girls used or shall I wear a red yes and how
he kissed me under the Moorish wall and I thought well as well him as another and
then I asked him with my eyes to ask again yes and then he asked me would I yes to
say yes my mountain flower and first I put my arms around him yes and drew him
down to me so he could feel my breasts all perfume yes and his heart was going like
mad and yes I said yes I will Yes.”

Excerpt from, “Ulysses, ” by James Joyce. Public domain

https://www.facebook.com/watch/?v=3134964069872925

Black and White

color goes to black and white in sleep

photo by kiciarandagia

Comfort Haiku

lean in to warm back
listen to quiet; heart beat rest
muscled stance for bed

Fibonacci

This is my color rendering of Fibonacci’s math formula

And here is Joy Acey’s Fibonacci poem:
MY DOG
Bark,
BARK!
My dog
likes to bark.
Round and round she turns
then settles on the rug to sleep.

Today’s poem is a FIB–a poem based on Fibonacci’s number. Try writing your own FIB today.

Why We Need To Sleep

This morning I listened to Garrison Keiler on the Poetry Almanac Podcast, and was moved by this poem by William Blake.
Then I read Heidi Mordhorst’s blog and was reminded of our need to detoxify each night.
http://myjuicylittleuniverse.blogspot.com/

On Another’s Sorrow

Can I see another’s woe,
And not be in sorrow too?
Can I see another’s grief,
And not seek for kind relief?

Can I see a falling tear,
And not feel my sorrow’s share?
Can a father see his child
Weep, nor be with sorrow filled?

Can a mother sit and hear
An infant groan, an infant fear?
No, no! never can it be!
Never, never can it be!

And can He who smiles on all
Hear the wren with sorrows small,
Hear the small bird’s grief and care,
Hear the woes that infants bear —

And not sit beside the next,
Pouring pity in their breast,
And not sit the cradle near,
Weeping tear on infant’s tear?

And not sit both night and day,
Wiping all our tears away?
Oh no! never can it be!
Never, never can it be!

He doth give his joy to all:
He becomes an infant small,
He becomes a man of woe,
He doth feel the sorrow too.

Think not thou canst sigh a sigh,
And thy Maker is not by:
Think not thou canst weep a tear,
And thy Maker is not year.

Oh He gives to us his joy,
That our grief He may destroy:
Till our grief is fled an gone
He doth sit by us and moan.

William Blake

Riddle#31 Ancestors

Dreams, it has been said, were the first poems and stories told around the fire in ancient tribal cultures. Jan Hutchinson

We gather, holding baskets
filled with fruit;
seeds and juices
of our loins.

Breasts ready to succor,
feet to serve,
ears to learn
what nurture needs.

Umbilical still grows,
Twists its lullabies;
In and out of sleep
and baths and blankets’ cover.

While We Sleep

How dare the day change at Midnight!
Are we not the author of dawn?
The painter of the stars, the guardian of the moon?
Is it we who smile on earth, in sunbeams, at the dawn?

Or are we simply grains of sand reflecting light;
Grinding slowly into earth,
Its precious minerals?

Lullaby

Aware, awake!
Can’t take a break;
In charge: better!
Live go-getter!

I mull the lull,
Then touch the dull;
To taste Goodbye,
Hum lullaby.

Goodbye to blinks,
So long to winks;
My eye-lids close
They brush my nose.

My smiles collapse
Into the laps:
Who e’er is there
A rocking pair.

Hum lullaby:
The lull’s Goodbye;
I sleep ’til day
Returns to play.

Good Night!