snuggling with enjoyable things
sleepy, cozy comfort
when the haze lifts
hoping for a jovial mood
bouncing lively into the day
maybe just five more minutes…
… i have a close personal relationship with my bed
Tag: sleeping
Ash Jaudon
Fated For Loneliness
Sleep eludes the silent voice of suffering
Quiet nights endured alone wreck barren souls
Universal oneness with darkness
Universal separation unfolds
Pockets of light kiss the skin on occasion
Imitating joy others daily know
Solitude calls weary heads to rest
Solitude, the only place that feels like home
Color Theory
Green radiating from my imbalanced heart chakra
Powered by the aventurine in my pocket
Its glow dulls every day I don’t meditate
Matching the dead green that overshadows the blue
In my eyes on my darkest days
Green, the color of health in my soul and the Earth
But the color of sickness in my body and mind
A color of duality
A color of mystery
Mind Palace
I light up again in the pale moonlight
Silence is here
Not even a raindrop could make me listen
Dusk is my home
Nesting my loneliness in the shadows
The Son of Night
If the sun shines
And flowers bloom
Even in the most
Desolate of places
Why then can’t we propagate
Ourselves in foreign spaces
Thoughts on Duality
Like the red-stained ground of the morning
Or the powdery pink overtones of dusk
We are all tinted differently
Where the dark and the light meet
Climate Change
I can hear the conifers crying
Decades of deciduous growth destroyed
I can feel the trauma of trees
Calling out in fear
Curtail
How do you slip out of the plane of existence
Not to a higher place
But to a nothing place
Everyone else traps you here with selfish insistence
By imitating love
Obligation isn’t love
Is there an exit that doesn’t draw a witness
Not out with a big bang
Out with a flickering
~~~
Ash Jaudon has been writing for a lifetime, but only in recent years have they challenged themselves to publicly share their written and spoken words. Emerging as a poet has been the next step on an intense journey of authenticity. They are becoming known for their tarot-inspired typewriter poems, which can be found on their Instagram @liminal_luminarian . This is Ash’s first feature with The Short of It.
If you’d like to be featured on The Short of It in the future,
click here for the submission guidelines.
#TheShortofIt – Vol 1 The Sound of Brilliance and Vol 2 Reflections & Revelations on Amazon
Morning Haze
engulfed in the thin membrane
of a dream’s remnants
i awake to confusion
feeling the feelings
remembering the scenery
the past intruding on the present
the present trying to come into focus
closed eyes beg for a return
to the powerful ether
limbs feeling heavy
but the bladder screams
and the alarm intrudes on my fiction
Arise
Redux
sheltered in a dream
rushed into reality
awakened in life
Originally published October 8, 2018, on I Write Her.
Slumber
Redux
Earned Sleep
Redux
Lucid Being 124 – Ash D. Solomon
Give life all you’ve got.
Fall into bed exhausted.
Charge your battery.
Rest In Bed
always the dread at midnight
assuming a million attempts at slumber
closing my eyes with hope
shutting down my mind
oblivion is beckoning
when i finally do
i can’t stay asleep
waking every few hours
yet still hoping for a longer stretch
that never comes
then the light fills the room
and all i want to do
is stay in bed
sinking in deeper
to the dreams which also keep me awake
is this the prelude
to wishing for my demise
slower starts every day
feeling the energy drain away
as sleep doesn’t revive me anymore
Shontay Luna
Surprised Septolet
I
stomped inside
too loud, too quick.
She screamed,
startled
out of her slumber.
Doors Diamante
The Doors
wild, dark
refreshing, probing, satisfying.
Unique, theatrical (respect, reverence)
glorifying, worshiping, adoring
illustrious, eminent,
legends.
In sleep
In sleep’s dimmest
darkness,
it is there.
The figure stands in
the open closet,
not moving.
And she barely
sees shadow
and still silhouette
in her room.
Until she realizes
it’s only
the mischievous
night.
Faces
Faces in the folds
of a curtain in
the afternoon sun.
In fleeting shadows
behind vibrant
light bulbs.
In vision specks
after sudden sneezing,
in opening of the eyes during
night’s reign.
And,
in my heavily medicated
presence,
the faces are
everywhere.
1-21-13
Sweet,
the sweetest sound
ever made.
The whisper from
your lips,
calling my name.
Never in the world,
has there ever been,
a sound so
sweet.
~~~
Shontay Luna is a lifelong Chicagoan who studied Poetry at Columbia College before finishing her studies elsewhere. She’s most recently published in Anti-Heroine Chic, Rigorous and The Daily Drunk. Her books include Reflections of a Project Girl and Recollections & Dreams.
If you’d like to be featured on The Short of It, click here for the submissions guidelines.
Curled Up
lazy sunday mornings
cuddles with flannel
and flesh
sly smiles
with closed eyes
and tousled about hair
where the toes
say hello
and reconnect
but the brain
hasn’t quite
arrived
giving in
to an abandoning
after six days of being on
succumbing to a fluid
unscheduled, unhurried
relaxed funk
Dog Day Afternoon
My energy is sapped below the reserve.
Not sure where the strength should come from now.
It’s like pulling it out of thin air.
I Write Her 