The poetry of a tired mind

Garfield-Mornings-garfield-172375_312_318When I get really tired, when I wish I could just lay down and close my eyes even if it is just on the floor, my brain regurgitates things I have read.   Mostly there are just a half of a dozen quotes that are shoved together, and usually it is some form of poetry.

I am exhausted right now.  I don’t have to work tonight but I do have to stay awake long enough to make sure the kids are fed and bathed and that homework is completed and bedtime is accomplished at a decent hour.  So tired poetry is running through my head at the moment.  I have Robert Frost, Shakespeare, and William Cullen Bryant all mashed together.

In 11th grade English, Mrs. Sherlin made us memorize the poem Thanatopis.  I hated, I am william_cullen_bryanttalking about loathed, that poem.  Mostly just because: it is long, I was sixteen, I was forced to memorize it, and that year was all about American authors and death.  I found it incredible depressing and from that point forward decided (in my infinite 16yr old wisdom)  that all American poets were crap and should have been placed on antidepressants.

frostNow, thanks to Mrs. Sherlin, Mr. William Cullen Bryant’s Thanatopis is stuck in my brain right along side William Shakespeare’s Hamlet and Robert Frost’s  Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening.

In my tired brain it all goes something like this:   “….Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.”   “…to sleep, To sleep perchance to dream; Aye there’s the rub,”   “…But I kitten sleephave promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep, And miles to go before I sleep.”


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