Imogen Poulter

United Kingdom

Aspiring professional poet. To understand, and to be understood.

Message to Readers

My poems are usually depressing, so here's a change.

Lifting Slumber

April 18, 2020


A tired moonless night, drowsy sunless days,
to be awakened from their anti-slumber, eternal midnight,
we hope, we pray, and pray.

The darkness never lifts, and the babes bred from it grow weary
of oblivion.

Accept eternal induced comas of conciousness, insomnia-
because we do not sleep.
Life has become the twighlight delusions we live between.

Though even the most mighty forces meet it’s end,
so in that, unlasting does not seem as bitter-
there are no losers here, there will be no winners.

Although now I only know your traitor,
time only passes and love only grows.

Be it a hazy, disorienting realm of blossoming lights
The dream world slipping away beneath drowsy eyes, tired goodbyes
seemingly futile promises, ones that speak of again.
But there is comfort, pacing bleached wooden floors
sink agaisnt the door.

If we are truly isolated in our suffering, then at least a physical presence holds true.
Remember us perfectly, through an eye of the once-loved.

When the tide is low, you may come out and seek.
There’s no cure.
If not for the world, for ourselves.
If infected by the self-pitying, mortal angst-
living embodiments of humanity’s wretched longing.
Then we are the disease.

 

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  • April 18, 2020 - 8:06am (Now Viewing)

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2 Comments
  • mia_:)

    This is amazing! I love the ending! Your word choice is so good! I love "drowsy sunless days" and "disorienting realm of blossoming lights." This is such a good piece!


    6 months ago
  • mintiichip

    Wow, omg this is amazing?! I love the turn it takes from being about us dying to us being the disease, like the speaker's point of view has changed. I can't say I know exactly what this poem is about, but I know what it means to me.


    6 months ago