#Latest news with #sorrowIrish Times2 days agoGeneralIrish TimesPoem of the Week: Lack of SleepA lack of sleep devours my bed. It feeds on dreams until I choke. It sours the insides of my head. It turns me into ash and smoke. This started when my mother died. Remember that October night. It was as if the rain had cried, nothing again can be put right. I climb stairs, giving in to grief. Switch on and off a bedside lamp. The trees outside stand stripped of leaves. Sorrow decides to pitch its camp. No soldier comes to guard this post. Lock in the dark and bolt the doors. Through lack of sleep the night is lost. Rise from white sheets and walk the floor. Today's poem is from Frank McGuinness's new collection, The River Crana (The Gallery Press)
Irish Times2 days agoGeneralIrish TimesPoem of the Week: Lack of SleepA lack of sleep devours my bed. It feeds on dreams until I choke. It sours the insides of my head. It turns me into ash and smoke. This started when my mother died. Remember that October night. It was as if the rain had cried, nothing again can be put right. I climb stairs, giving in to grief. Switch on and off a bedside lamp. The trees outside stand stripped of leaves. Sorrow decides to pitch its camp. No soldier comes to guard this post. Lock in the dark and bolt the doors. Through lack of sleep the night is lost. Rise from white sheets and walk the floor. Today's poem is from Frank McGuinness's new collection, The River Crana (The Gallery Press)
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