Well, it's 11:30 where I am, and still, not sleep. I'm tired to the point of tears right now, but there's this little thing called insomnia that does this everynight. well, what better to do then write poetry, right?
Once again, Night comes,
But once more, night becomes,
Just the empty, voidless space,
Where thoughts churn,
The pillow burns,
And that little voice inside,
Gives no rest.
Contemplating, concentrating,
On things to come, and those that passed,
What should be filled with dreams,
Is just a filler in between.
Why is it that,
All critics come at night,
To review, to shout, to think, to fight.
Why is it that,
All options undone,
Seem to be bested here?
Once again, Night comes,
And yet, it just becomes,
That empty, voidless, space,
Insomnia.
Definitely not my best, but I just wrote it, and I want to do something with it. Well, please read and review, thank you!
xoxo
Jenni
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Canary word: Present
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125,018 Literary Works • 672,861 Reviews
This was a fairly good poem, but all the commas just really got on my nerves. That's probably just me, though, so no worries, right?
Anyways, I liked this poem alot, I can relate alot.
Good job!
-Buggs
I love this poem. If this is not your best, than I am insanely jealous of your talent.
I can definitely relate to the poem having gone through that once, twice, or fifty million times...
This poem has a few technical errors of course, but I can't beat you up too much about it because I probably make far more than you (mostly because I am lazy). But your content is most important and I enjoyed that so great job!
Wow, I really liked this one! It's vague, but it also gives gentle elaboration. this is one of the best poems I've seen in a while, (other than a few mechanical errors, like commas and junk), this was really great. I wouldn't expect anything less, Your other poems are also really good too! Just remember to use commas and line breaks right. I'll keep a lookout for more of your work!
Good luck,
Chicky
Once again night comes,
But, once more, night becomes
Just the empty, voidless space
Where thoughts churn,
The pillow burns,
And that little voice inside
Gives no rest.
Contemplating, concentrating
On things to come and those that passed.
What should be filled with dreams
Is just a filler in between.
Why is it that
All critics come at night?
To review, to shout, to think, to fight.
Why is it that
All options undone
Seem to be bested here?
Once again, night comes.
And, yet, it just becomes
That empty, voidless, space:
Insomnia.
I corrected a few minor punctuation and capitalization errors.
Overall, I loved this poem.
Very well done.
I think this is a rather good poem, all in all.
At first I was a little turned off by the stark rhyming of the opening stanza, but once it sank in, on the second read, I came to understand and appreciate fully the inspiration behind the poem.
There seems to me a struggle present; a fight against the present moment where thoughts of the past and worries of the future crowd in and leave one with no room to relax when relaxation is needed most: the time of sleep.
Insomnia to me then is a very inspired piece and I think you should be very proud of it.