Feeble dreams, then none at all.
Reckless. Restless, what
soothes your soul on nights
     when darkness
boastfully intrude? Thoughts
expand and contract, you inhale
then exhale, though time
is rarely true.      Or precise.
Neither comfort, or interlude,
as the mind wanders to places
you have never been
nor wish to return. Anxiety
or worry, how can you know?
                  Insomnia.
Isolation. Overreaction.
Contemplation. Will you read
or recite stanzas from your
puzzling past trying earnestly
to recreate placid images that
take you away from this
              awakened state?
    Poetry shows concisely
how others have suffered,
how they have healed.
Find rhythm or the rhyme.
Close your eyes, deeply
   breathe, take stock of
the certain and the sublime.
              Poetry knows.
You have been there before.

04/11/2021                                       j.g.l.

April is Poetry Month
all poetry all the time
right here
poetry every day