Tired has already been shared on Vocal but this is the latest rewrite. I never think that I will go back to a piece once I have published it however I am increasingly aware that that is not how a poem lives it's life!
Tired
After Tulips by Sylvia Plath
I am trying to still the quickening
so they bring
me a bolus and I stop
dancing and cleaning
cobwebs from the lightbulbs.
I am sleeping, but wake,
intermittently numb
to my surroundings.
I remembered no voice
but I did not feel alone.
Just tired. Absurd. And tired.
About the Creator
Alyson Smith
Writer & Artist with Level I Autism & a whole lot of Bipolar. Based in Newcastle- upon - Tyne, works as an administrator in a Nursing Home. MA in Creative Writing.
Keep reading
More stories from Alyson Smith and writers in Poets and other communities.
If You Love Me, You'll Do It
I met Jason when I was five years old. I could say that I loved him from the moment I saw him. He was so handsome to me and I felt in awe by his presence. When they introduced him as the new kid in school, I wanted to be his friend right away. I remember it like it was yesterday. I remember his smile and how he didn't seem shy. He appeared confident and ready to learn. I waved at him and said "hello," before anyone else could even say a word. He sat next to me, and I asked him if he wanted to be friends. He looked so happy as he said, "Yes!"
By Sidney Smith (Sid Smith)7 days ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
I love your poem! Could you link back to the first iteration so I can see the difference? 🙏