Woken From My Sleep
I awoke in the early hours,
between one and half past four.
My poet head was back again,
and I wrote like never before.
Page after page was covered,
paper was strewn everywhere.
Even though I felt exhausted
my mind didn't seem to care.
I thought my head had finished
and so returned to my bed,
but when I touched the pillow
sentences again filled my head.
I went back into the spare room
and penned as fast as I could.
My bed pulled after each poem
so I returned like all poets should.
In the end my mind became weary,
it repeated line after line.
Counting sheep was very similar,
it was definitely sleeping time.
poem by Orlando Belo
Added by Poetry Lover
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