Wednesday, 17 June 2009

Can't sleep

in a big house,



At dawn the central heating moans

a high whine;

wood and plaster kick, knock

and heat turns up a winter wick.


            Is it loneliness?

Not really.


            Disconnected head and heart?





At a café in Kendal

where I drink coffee

Andrew chooses another table,

sits down,

smiles at strangers;

waits to see what happens next.

He loves them, you see.

Mostly, people love him back;

particularly old ones, Sages.

He makes them feel special,

and an encounter

warms the place.


At night, he sleeps

like an angel.


  1. I loved this line: "heat turns up a winter wick"

    But I also enjoyed the turn to coffee and Andrew and the implication about why you can't sleep.

  2. Thanks Marcus - it helps that you followed the flow of the poem and stayed with its turns!

  3. This is beautiful and very meaningful as for me when I can't sleep it is very much the 'disconnected head and heart'. Thank you for writing it.

  4. This is so wonderful, I love the details of the settings and the structure of the poem. Very nice!

  5. Beautiful as ever. It made me smile and feel reflective all at once.

  6. This was very effective, specifically, getting the reader to bypass sight in order to sense something divine.