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Tuesday, 9 December 2025

Notes from the fold-up bed (now revised)



I, being old and frail,

And at death’s elbow,

Greeted the bedside clock

For its surprising news

That those warm depths of sleep

I’d left behind, had still

Long hours to run. With blissful

Lack of care I pulled the

Bed clothes up for comfort,

Lost head and face in new oblivion

 

From softness into softness, an unexpected gift!

For age can never guarantee that, eyes now closed

Will bring the healing dark that shuts away the strains

Of living out decreptitude.

 

One yearns for certainties: The childhood cot,

That insulates us from adult’s grim tasks;

The bottle brought to us is never earned.

And we may burble for the aid that’s close to hand.

 

There’s more to come, but not, alas, from me.

I was waylaid and felt th’old devil’s urge

To catch the trope; to write, as is my tendency,

Nouns from verbs while softness waits another day.


Confession: I just couldn't leave it in its tatterdemalion state


3 comments:

  1. I hope you’ll be flattered knowing that this led me to an AI brief on the differences between Old English and Shakespearean English (Early Modern, “understandable with some effort”).
    Being verse, your poetry shares that added layer of challenge, but I’d have to rate your use as Modern Shakespearean. More decipherable to me. You’ve established a delightfully pulsing rhythm. Reminds me of a pendulum, but “swinging”, with its latter day musical connotations, seemed inappropriate. I absolutely love “th’old” leading into the last, less universal stanza. What word do I grasp for here? Personal?
    Sleep is respite for sure, and few things match one’s resignation to what I’ve had called the netherworld, prior to consulting a dictionary. When surrender means victory over a day.
    I’m unsure why the opening is italicized.

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  2. MikeM: My caring duties last from 7 am to about midnight, and I go to bed nearly always exhausted. I used to sleep well but not now. On this occasion I woke at about 5 am in a completely pleasing, drugged state. Sensuous or sensual if you prefer. These feelings were so strong they triggered a strong urge to capture them, even though I also wanted to take advantage of sleep's availability. Bits of the verse were writing themselves so I gave in. Re-reading it isn't a quarter as good as I thought but - just for once - I am refusing to tinker. The experience was unique. First part in itals to provide background

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