In the Silent Hour When Sleep Holds
In the silent hour
when sleep holds you
to the line between being
and not, the questioner is
hardest, every change of voice
— cajoler, denier, berater,
pleader, wonderer,
broker — having its way
with you, the babel filling
what space the mind
wants to leave open
to let you play the one
you are against the one
you were or could be.
At your strongest
the arguer softens
the tongue, concedes
control; at your weakest
you show no face. Come
morning, the hollows
of your eyes pinked red
declare who won or lost.
© 2011 Maureen E. Doallas
______________________________
I offer this poem for today's prompt at dVerse Poets Pub: Third Eye Open.
Saturday, August 27, 2011
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18 comments:
How beautiful.. The affect: the bargainer, she who struggles with the known/not known - being/not being of living on that edge-- potent and lyrical, Maureen. xxxj
the babel fills the mind playing who you are against who you were or could be...excellent line as it captures a feel that i think is universal in that moment...
and a merciless questioner he is..you capture that conversation so well in moments when we're so unarmed...love the ending with the hollow of eyes pinked red measuring our success..
you deepen my desire to read you out loud.. x love it..
ps stay safe.
Thought provoking poem. My take on it is the rambling in one's head at 3 in the morning. I have come to the point in my life that I have decided there is not much I can do at that hour, so I will deal with whatever is swirling around till morning.
Gret poem.
The word that comes to mind is exquisite. Maureen, I continued to be awed by your command of language.
Maureen, you allow me to remember that I am not alone in this crazy journey of life. I especially like the line: you are against the one
you were or could be.
So much to think about in this. And then when morning comes we are free of these useless mind games.
True and serious, unstoppable but deliberately paced, walking the reader through a common phenomenon with uncommon grace and insight. Esp like the opening five couplets, though the poem is far too cohesive to be stronger in one place than another. Beautiful work.
yes. night unravelling.
powerful.
I sense much control in your words.
the questioner is
hardest, every change of voice
— cajoler, denier, berater,
pleader, wonderer,
broker — having its way
So apt and you say it all with grace. Thank you for taking us along in the questioning.
What a deep and probing poem. Analytical and lyrical at once. The ego, id, and superego at work and at war in the world of dreams. The choices we make by day haunt our dreams where various and alternate realities enact themselves. Fascinating really, taut, and brilliant.
The worlds of the mind are full of babel speak, but your poem is not, in its spare economy of language, quite perfect for its theme.
This plays out in my room every restless night! You have captured it so well...a wonderful write!
Absolutely! Exquisite!
A powerful write.
this was amazing... your words capture that inner conversation and the enemys' m.o. perfectly. I am deeply moved and read this many times. Thank you.
i was just remarking that my eyes will reveal to all today that i didn't get much sleep last night. i normally look like a raccoon but some days i just look like i'm sleep walking.
from cajoler to broker. that's good manipulation:)
I know all these visitors at the silent hour...always hoping sleep is the winner....can so relate..bkm
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