As the world sleeps…..

The world sleeps

Groans and rolls over,stretches it self in to the night

Curls up and sighs peaceful sighs,delves under

The blanket of blinking stars minus

A waning moon.

The pregnant night rolls on,imps dance

Under blossoming mushrooms

Restless crickets sing

Toads croak complaints

In muddy swamps,speak up

For all restless souls tonight,the sleep deprived

who toss and turn in beds,ponder

Over uncertainties,sigh

Woeful sighs as the world sleeps oblivious

To malady and distress,smiling

With angels in its sleep.The night rolls on

Not peaceful as everybody assumes it to be

Restless,it sighs,it moans from time to time

It weeps too,silent rains drizzle

And moistens the world’s earthen cheeks

As it dreams blissful dreams

Of  fresh-winged butterflies

And rosy dew-kissed dawns.


13 Comments on “As the world sleeps…..”

  1. S says:

    Do I sense a poignantly sensitive soul? Yes I do! ;)
    The night indeed is restless,as restless as the rest of us mortals who roam this glorious constellation of cosmos and you m’aam,are one of the very few who have fathomed its depth.Keep being who you are,what you are,sensitive and receptive,perfectly in tune and you shall go far.I wish you all the best for your rapturous expeditions ahead

  2. You have described the night perfectly. Toads croak complaints is my favourite. They sit in my downpipes complaining loudly whenever the rain comes… Nice poem thankyou!

  3. dsnake1 says:

    wow, so much happens while i sleeps? :)

    beautiful imagery, love the last few lines, just perfect.

  4. seabell says:

    I am addicted to the sounds of the night so you can imagine how I enjoyed reading your poem… Well done!

  5. Kim Nelson says:

    Lots of gorgeous imagery here.

  6. deadpoet88 says:

    Beautiful poem, makes me feel dreamy and sleepy. Your choice of imagery is lovely!

  7. danroberson says:

    My muse attacks me with zest,
    At night when I need the rest,
    Owls call out without fail,
    “Hey,who’s watching the trail?”
    And it’s who this and who that,
    As they watch for a careless rat,
    Frogs dance by the creekside oak,
    Join arms and seranade me with croaks,
    My muse smiles at the awesome sight,
    Then turns and says, “You’ve got to write,”
    The world is alive though most are in bed,
    Put down thee thoughts spinning in your head,
    Then she waits with patient frown,
    Keeping me up while the world is down.

    The nocturnal world wakes and plays in the dark,
    Then scurries home at dawn’s first spark.

    Enjoyed your poem. Thank you for sharing.

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