Tag Archives: Sleeping in

Dawn–by Jan Arnold (Guest Blogger)

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Jan Arnold wrote this wonderful response to my poem, “Sacrificial Offering.”  Because she doesn’t have a blog, she sent it as a comment; but since some don’t read comments or perhaps read my poem before she sent this, I wanted, with her permission, to make a special post for it.

red dawn 2 red dawn
photos by Jan Arnold

                            Dawn

I read your words and wonder why
You chose to miss each morning sky
And in exhaustion there you lie
Upon your rumbled bed.

You laud the quiet of the night;
Distractions gone and you are right.
Each day brings brain fog that you fight.
I think you are misled.

Your body needs its nightly sleep,
Circadian rhythms, REM that’s deep
To heal, refresh and health to keep.
That is what I’ve read.

So toss that nagging clock alarm;
Sleep deprivation causes harm.
Think of your South Dakota farm
And rise to see dawn’s red.

Those predawn early morning hours
Are quiet with creative powers.
A muse denied, oh how she glowers.
Give dawn a try.

Predawn and sunrise feed the soul
With inspiration new and whole.
She awaits you and your hyperbole.
Say yes, you will not die.

You’ll blog in dark but let it be
After sleep has welcomed thee;
And you have awoken naturally:
Alert! Just wait and see.

I guarantee you’ll not be dry.
The words will come and thoughts will fly.
You will adjust come by and by.
Can you agree?

I’ll wait and see.

–Jan Arnold

*

IMG_1305 (1)
6 A.M.

A vividly red 6 A.M. glares out from an electric alarm clock on the side table of the bed.

“Carol!  Wake up! Do you know what time it is?”
“Not really.”
“Well, maybe if you opened your eyes, you could see the clock!”
“Mmmm. Hmmmm.”

He gives her a gentle swat on the bottom.

“C.mon, get up! I’m going for a shower so I won’t be here to nag at you.  You gotta get up now!”

The sound of his bare feet  leaving the room.  A door opens and shuts. Sound of a shower and an electric razor.  Then, he enters the bedroom from the adjoining bathroom, tucking in his shirt.

“Carol!  It’s time to get up! You’re running late!”
“What time is it?”
“Open your eyes and you’ll see!  C’mon. Open your eyes and here, I’ll help you scooch around and put your feet on the ground.  Now sit up.  And open your eyes!!”
(gentle snore)
“C’mon.  Right now!  Open your eyes.  If you don’t hold yourself up, I’m gonna let you fall down. So I’m letting loose, Carol.  Sit up on your own or you’ll fall down!”

There is a slight and muffled percussion sound as she falls backwards on the bed.

Dammit, Carol. Okay. This is it.  I’m tired of your shit. I’m just going to let you stay in bed and miss a day of work without calling in.  You’ll lose your job and there goes the Hawaiian vacation!”
“Mmmmm.”
“Brad and Janet will be there, and Chet and Tina.  Pina coladas, sunburn, sand in their toes, hula lessons and moonlit walks on the beach–and we’ll both miss it all because you’ll be unemployed and we won’t be able to afford it.  Carol!  Get the hell out of bed!!!  Open your eyes and get up!”
“Mmmmmm. Hmmmmmm.”
OK!  That’s it. I’m giving up!  I’m going to work now. I’ll stop and get breakfast at Shorty’s on the way.  You’ve made your bed and you can lie in it–literally!!”

Sound of a door slamming, car revving and driving away. Carol slides her feet back up on the bed and pulls the covers over her head.  Gentle snoring sounds.

Seven O’clock.  Phone ringing.  Carol reaches out to her bedside table and answers it.

“Hello?”
“Hi Carol.”
“Who is this?”
“This is your mother-in-law, dear. May I speak to Robert?”
“Who?”
“Your husband, dear. My son.”

Carol reaches out beside her, pats the bed.

“He’s not in bed, Roberta.  Try calling his cell phone and perhaps he’ll pick up from down below.  We had a late night last night and I’m sleeping in.”
“Okay, dear, sorry to disturb you.”

Sound of a phone being put back in the cradle. Almost immediate gentle snores. Twenty miles away, in early morning traffic, the gentle brrrrrrr of a cellphone is heard.

“Hello?”
“Hello, Robert, where are you?”
“I’m on the road, Mom, about to pull into Shorty’s for a fast breakfast. What’s up?”
“You went to breakfast without Carol?”
“No, I’m on my way to work.  Carol decided not to go in today.”

Silence from the other end of the phone.

“Mom, are you still there?  What did you call me for?”
“Well, dear, I’m just wondering why you are going in to work on a Saturday, and why you didn’t call your dad to call off your golf game if you’ve decided to work instead!”

Sound of brakes screeching as Robert turns off at an exit and drives over the overpass to reverse directions.


(For an earlier response to this same prompt, go HERE.)

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Groupthink.” Write a dialogue between two or three people other than yourself.

 

Disinclination (Sleep Phobia)

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Disinclination (Sleep Phobia)

I hate to give the day up.  There’s so much left to do.
I like the sky when midnight black is its only hue.
No interruptions on the phone. No meetings, no last chore.
It’s days that contain all the rules.  Days are such a bore!
At night I watch Doc Martin or read the blogs of others.
It always would be dark outside if I had my druthers.

I resist sleep when first it comes knocking at my door.
I put it off and fight it, sometimes ’til three or four.
At night it seems like such a shame to waste my life in sleep,
yet in the morning I find those convictions hard to keep.
When the alarm bell rings if I could choose, I find I would
go back to sleep, for suddenly my bed feels really good!

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “To Sleep, Perchance to Dream.”

Sunday Morning Addendum

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Sunday Morning Addendum

I used to go to church on Sunday, natural as breathin’,
but when the Daily Prompt is late, I turn into a heathen!
I wait and wait and look and look, refreshing up my browser.
So if you know our prompter, kindly call her up and rouse ‘er?
The end result of sleeping in is one I know too well.
Though she will get her beauty sleep, it’s I who’ll go to Hell!