Sleep Poems

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
...

THIS is thy hour O Soul, thy free flight into the wordless,
Away from books, away from art, the day erased, the lesson done,
Thee fully forth emerging, silent, gazing, pondering the themes thou
lovest best.
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One Christmas was so much like another, in those years around the sea-town corner now and out of all sound except the distant speaking of the voices I sometimes hear a moment before sleep, that I can never remember whether it snowed for six days and six nights when I was twelve or whether it snowed for twelve days and twelve nights when I was six.
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How neatly a cat sleeps,
sleeps with its paws and its posture,
sleeps with its wicked claws,
and with its unfeeling blood,
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Sweet dreams form a shade,
O'er my lovely infants head.
Sweet dreams of pleasant streams,
By happy silent moony beams
...

And now you're mine. Rest with your dream in my dream.
Love and pain and work should all sleep, now.
The night turns on its invisible wheels,
and you are pure beside me as a sleeping amber.
...

My long two-pointed ladder's sticking through a tree
Toward heaven still.
And there's a barrel that I didn't fill
Beside it, and there may be two or three
...

I would liken you
To a night without stars
Were it not for your eyes.
I would liken you
...

Sweet dreams, form a shade
O'er my lovely infant's head!
Sweet dreams of pleasant streams
...

I hid my heart in a nest of roses,
Out of the sun's way, hidden apart;
In a softer bed than the soft white snow's is,
Under the roses I hid my heart.
...

From my mother's sleep I fell into the State,
And I hunched in its belly till my wet fur froze.
Six miles from earth, loosed from its dream of life,
I woke to black flak and the nightmare fighters.
...

Under his helmet, up against his pack,
After so many days of work and waking,
Sleep took him by the brow and laid him back.
...

Others because you did not keep
That deep-sworn vow have been friends of mine;
Yet always when I look death in the face,
...

I would liken you
To a night without stars
Were it not for your eyes.
I would liken you
...

Keep me from going to sleep too soon
Or if I go to sleep too soon
Come wake me up. Come any hour
Of night. Come whistling up the road.
...

Go to sleep- though of course you will not-
to tideless waves thundering slantwise against
strong embankments, rattle and swish of spray
dashed thirty feet high, caught by the lake wind,
...

Sleep, sleep, my beloved,
without worry, without fear,
although my soul does not sleep,
although I do not rest.
...

Thou fair-haired angel of the evening,
Now, whilst the sun rests on the mountains, light
Thy bright torch of love; thy radiant crown
Put on, and smile upon our evening bed!
...

A long, long sleep, a famous sleep
That makes no show for dawn
By strech of limb or stir of lid, -
An independent one.
...

A man leaves the world
and the streets he lived on
grow a little shorter.
...

It's 12: 30 am.
The city is sleeping,
the road is quiet, calm,
a cool breeze touches, taking along.
...

it is late it is always late when I finally go to bed to sleep
I go to bed in the morning I wake to a new day the same morning
usually I sleep between 1 am and 3.30 am but usually around 2am
I may wake at 7 am or 8 am rarely late at 8.30 to 9 am
...

I may wake at 7 am or 8 am
rarely late at 8.30 to 9 am
5 hours sleep maybe even 6 hours
...

one day I will sleep the long sleep
a good flu and I can sleep sleep
sleep long hours of sleep
...

EARLY POEMS: JUVENILIA
by Michael R. Burch

These are my early poems, or juvenilia, most of them written between the ages of 11-18 and some published in my high school literary journal, THE LANTERN, and others in my college literary journal, HOMESPUN.
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I saw you weep in light agleam
led by a hand from the world of dream
I saw you quivering, muttering
of some words above my hearing
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Sleep, sleep, sleep
It's magnificent and nice,
...

How do you sleep at night
Do you sleep with fright,
Do you say your prayers
Hoping not for nightmares,
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I hear sounds of sweet music,
When I'm walking in my sleep;
And the sound of drumbeats,
Even in my sleep!
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sleep you cannot buy
sleep is non-negotiable
when you want some sleep
sleep is nowhere to be found sometimes
...