Another poem about sleep

Midsummer Night’s Dream

The night is warm
you toss you turn
hair sweat sticky
sticky uppy
fists clenched
you fight with sleep

no not.
too hot.

you wrestle and weep
call to wake
need help
to turn not sit
lie down not stand
I lend a hand

eyes glued.
black mood.

on we roll we limp
till dawn breaks
birds wake
all forgotten
cheery you
start the day anew

sunlight.
gone night.

it feels wrong
but I go along
and start the day
with a reluctant song.

(c) Judith Kingston, 2013.

Prose for Thought
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In which you speak

In which you speak

We speak, we smile,
pour love and time
into this tiny life.
We sing, we rhyme,
we speak, we smile,
we wait a while.

You blink, you stare,
absorb the world
and at the sounds of life
for you unfurled
you blink, you stare,
become aware.

Then

A tiny finger
picks out the man
who whispered truth & life
when yours began
A tiny finger
on him lingers.

You say:
Da da.

You speak, you name,
You stake your claim
You stand, you make,
You step into the world-

awake.

(c) Judith Kingston, 2013

Prose for Thought
Wednesday Words

Echo

20 week scan

My son.

Echo

Was that really you?

That tiny hand, waving
grey fuzzy fingers
saying hello
in utero

Was that already you?

Were you thinking
five
five fingers on each hand.
Were you tasting
apple
Mummy canna have-a apple?
Were you seeing
red
Oh! Mummy all red.
Were you bouncing
boing!
saying weeeeeeee

but soundlessly

inside of me.

Unthinkable and yet
as you curl up on my lap
lean in to me
clutching close
so close
feel my touch
hear my voice
smell my scent
I wonder:
do you remember
that home of heart beats
yours and mine
or both in harmony
and do you sometimes wish
you could go back and
that we could be

one?

Are your desperate tears
a yearning for a time
when I could never leave,
never be apart
from you?

Now
I go and wave

You wave five grubby fingers
peach and apple-sticky
waving still but frowning
as already you yearn

for my return.

 

(c) Judith Kingston, 2013

Prose for Thought

Cling

Cling

Your rock in shifting sand
Your safest hiding place
Your favoured guiding hand
A loved familiar face

Your story’s premise
and the happy end
a solid promise
and a faithful friend

It frightens me
to mean this much
to one so small

yet I won’t always be
the one you clutch,
your all in all.

(c) Judith Kingston, 2013


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Prose for Thought