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Some Nights You Just Can't Sleep and Other Poetry of Love, Passion and Loss

Updated on February 6, 2016

Some Nights You Just Can't Sleep

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How Do You Sleep At Night?

Do you lie awake at night tossing and turning?

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As the Moon Shines Down on a Sleepless Town

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Some Nights You Just Can't Sleep

I cannot sleep once again.

Surrounded in silence, like a lone wolf.

Woken from a very potent,

not very pleasant dream.

Whilst night's embrace devours me,

dangerously dark and thoughtful,


Wind breathes on my window,

dubiously waking the dead.

In my head, I want to sleep,

clock softly ticking, as I try to sleep.

Morning is coming. Cruelly creeping...

up on me ...... like old age.


How will I get up? Tarnished by tiredness.

Less than six hours, and I am no good.

Given to daydreams and yawns.

Victim to slow thoughts and tantrums.

A fool to be fractured by nocturnal reverie.


The cold, dark air is biting me,

as I clutch the covers tighter.

My head runs in reeling rings.

Whilst only darkness stands still.

Dancing between my vision's doorway.


My mind turns torridly over,

restless disjointed cogs of thoughts.

This to do. Doubting that.

Soaring damnations of calm.

Why can’t I drift away?

a bobbing bottle on the tide.


Tick tock, crows the clock,

taunting my tortured ears.

I wonder how I will face the day.

As night shrewdly slips away...

to rest his weary eyes.



A Trail of Pink Flower Petals

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A Trail of Pink Flower Petals


A trail of pink flower petals.

On the dark wooden floor.

Green eyes, mesmerised,

With all that she sought,

Then she began to sing softly,

In voluptuous tongues.

As she danced,

Her soul just a passenger.

In a silken gown.

Sailing to freer ports,

Her body merely a stowaway.

A mind fleeing captivity.

Normally submerged,

in our thankless world.

Just at that moment,

Her heart felt such freedom.

From normality and reality,

As she twirled somewhere far away.

Caught in a moment of desire,

He watched her move,

The orator of her goddess.

His love the very reason,

That her heart flew so high.

His fingers reached out,

To pull her in closely.


When Dusk Falls Down

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When Dusk Falls Down

Dusk falls down to make them feel,

The true extent of their raw deal.

The band begins in Don’s Gin Bar,

As chasers plaster inside scars.


Sam’s song digs in deep and low,

A woeful tale which they all know.

A life where all the breaks are tough,

Where the beer is warm and life is rough.


Guttural tales of wayward wives,

Who left them and destroyed their lives.

The crowd all pulling hangdog eyes,

Remembering their love’s demise.


That job snatched out from his hands,

Stolen by that younger man.

The one with the smart new suit,

The one who caused him to get the boot.


Drumbeats pull the tensions tight,

Bobbi thinks tonight's the night.

For four years she has hunted here,

Looking for ’the one’ to spear.


She dances in her big white shoes,

Streaky tan and too much booze.

Her dancing's where the seeds are sown,

Blooming in her home alone.


Believing they can only lose,

They only ever hear the blues.


Laid Bare on the Velvet

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Have You Ever Been in Love?

Have you ever been utterly, completely in love?

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Laid Bare on the Velvet

Laid bare on the velvet, naked as a flame.

The beautiful man whispers words,

Of passion and love,

Slowly I start to believe him.


Filling both my senses and my heart.

Using strong arms and smiles,

He calls upon me to dance for him.

With each step and soft turn,

Pulling in both my body and my soul.


As his deep blue eyes gaze upon me.

Inside, I fall deeply, and can't stop.

As gentle fingers stroke slowly,

Teasing my yearning skin.

His soft dark hair falls to one side.


Time stands still as he holds me.

Unable to move or speak.

Seeing only his face before me.

In a room. In a world.

Where now only he exists.


He said he would die for me.

He would always be there,

He would never, ever let me down.

Somehow he became my everything.

All that I needed to feel and breathe.


His mouth turns up in a lazy smile,

As his blue eyes crinkle at the sides.

He places something in my hand.

Softly curling my fingers around it,

I bite my lip. As my tears start to fall.


He speaks to me in a serious voice.

But I can't hear his words.

In a fleeting world of lost and founds,

Where secretly we crave to be loved.

This time I will not leave.


He pulls me in close, as he laughs.

Gently putting his ring upon my finger.

He softly wipes my eyes and kisses my hair.

As he tells me that some things are so precious,

That we should hold them and never let them go.


My Highland Warrior

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My Highland Warrior

Come to me on the summer breeze,

Spead your arms amongst whispering trees.

Speak my name in Gaelic tongue,

Call upon our time to come.


Deep blue eyes cast pools of flame,

Kindred fire bestows my veins.

Soft, dark hair; a heart of kind,

Beholded beauty, echoed inside.


Gazing in your eyes of blue,

Descending into depthless hue.

Your gentle hand moves to mine,

Soft, strong fingers I entwine.


Sacred vows in lilting tongues,

Surrounded by kin, old and young.

Whispered words on holy ground,

Before God's eyes forever bound.


You hold me close aside your plaid,

Promises spoken, clan lines made.

As man and wife our time's began,

"Tha gaol agam ort," my Highland man.



Notes on the Poetry

A Plaid was the clothing of a highlander in the 1700s. It was approximately five metres long and was of course tartan.

Tha gaol agam ort - Means 'I love you.' in Gaelic.

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© 2013 Anna Haven

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    • profile image

      Valleypoet 4 years ago

      I know this feeling well enough...the time to get up creeping ever closer, and thoughts run out of control...a bottle on the tide, unable to drift away...great line...nicely done:-))

    • Anna Haven profile image
      Author

      Anna Haven 4 years ago from Scotland

      Thankyou very much :) I know, the more you look at the clock, the more you think you will never get up in the morning and of course the more wide awake you are!

    • xstatic profile image

      Jim Higgins 4 years ago from Eugene, Oregon

      Ah yes, those voices that keep yammering in your head. This is very a good poem about the occasional (I hope) curse of sleeplessness.

    • Anna Haven profile image
      Author

      Anna Haven 4 years ago from Scotland

      Yes, I am pleased to say only occasional sleeplessness. I appreciate you reading my poem and taking the time to comment, thankyou.

    • CrisSp profile image

      CrisSp 4 years ago from Sky Is The Limit Adventure

      I hear you my fellow poet...I know exactly how it feels as I am nocturnal, myself.

      You vividly captured the agony of sleepless night(s) through this hub.

      Voted up and sharing. Thanks.

    • Anna Haven profile image
      Author

      Anna Haven 4 years ago from Scotland

      Thankyou CrisSp :) The more you try to sleep the wider awake you are!

    • billybuc profile image

      Bill Holland 2 years ago from Olympia, WA

      I really do sleep like a baby, but this poem reminded me of when I was a young tyke, and I would spend the night at my grandparents. They had a rather loud clock that kept me up with its ticking, which you could hear throughout the house. Needless to say, I didn't stay with them too often. :)

      Very nice work my friend.

      bill

    • Anna Haven profile image
      Author

      Anna Haven 2 years ago from Scotland

      Hi Bill.

      My sleep patterns are a tad more erratic than your own. Most of the time I do sleep, but when I am awake during the night, I am awake for ages.

      Thanks for reading.

      Anna :)

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