Comfort – The Thing In My Room, Poetry Challenge


I trace my hands over the thick fabric.
Luring me to sleep.

I feel the fibers between my fingers
comforting me with their embrace.

As I cover myself up
my eyes slowly shut.

I drift into my dreams.

I’m awoken by the images
invading my mind.
And I push comfort away
then shove it to the side.

I force myself to sleep once more.

Battling the night
-rest is a chore.

Morning arrives, it always does-
As the sun pours through my window.

I grab my blanket
and pull it back over me,
to protect myself
from the eyes of the world.

Not my best, but hey, I’m trying something different.
I have decided to take prompts from my textbook for my upcoming poetry class and post my responses to them on here. And now, I am challenging you to do this as well!
This prompt was “something in your room.”
If you participate, pingback or comment a link below! 🙂

Nighttime Thoughts


Laying in bed
needing to sleep.
Thoughts in my head,
too many to keep.

But they won’t go away-
They drive me insane.
In my mind they stay
as they infest my brain.

I close my eyes
and try to silence this voice.
But it’s only a guise
because I’ll never have that choice.

I can’t stop thinking,
wondering, and questioning.
So I’ll just lay here, blinking,
until my thoughts stop wrestling.

Bedtime with the Cat


I lie in bed
After a long day of work
Trying to finally find rest.
I left a crack in my door
To bring in a little light
To try and help calm my nerves.

I start to drift,
My mind slipping away.

Then suddenly
I hear a slow “creeeaaaaakkk”

What could it be?

I open my eyes
To see the light has grown.
So I sit up to look around.
When she jumps up beside me,
Stretches and yawns
Then curls up and lies her head by mine.
Falling fast asleep.

The peace she brings
With her calm breathing and light purr
Help me doze off as well.

Until I awake 3 hours later
To her licking my head.

Restless Repose – Collaboration with the Haunted Lullaby

Written in collaboration with Jarrod from the Haunted Lullaby.

I lie awake at night
and stare at the ceiling,
why did things not go right?
When can I erase this feeling?

I wonder where things went wrong,
why they tore at the seams.
I question whether I ever belonged
or if it was all simply a dream.

Something I created,
a fabrication.
A thought so inflated,
that now I’m in desperation.

In need of rest,
unable to sleep.
Every night I contest
these thoughts that I keep.