Through the darkness I hear the patter of the rains feet.
It stumbles through the trees foliage,
till the ground it will meet.
A sound with no face,
in the darkness can be rhythmic or can roar.
Gently putting me to sleep with its soft notes,
but awakens me when it pours.
The ground welcomes it,
like a dry sponge soaking in.
The trees slurp through long straws,
drawing deep breaths of water in.
the river gets angry.
Throwing punch’s at the bank,
as it heads toward the sea.
© Deon Heemskerk
The quietest night.
Insect footsteps nearly echo.
All is quiet, except my mind.
Still busy, hurried footsteps in my brains hallways.
Shuffling thoughts, reminders and schedules.
The inner peak hour, almost inescapable.
Cars bustling in all directions.
They keep on moving without me driving.
Is it that time already?
Kookaburra laughs at my lack of sleep.
© Deon Heemskerk 18-12-2012
The stars twinkled and tickled my hair receptors.
The energy received sent them straight up in attention.
The calmness of the night, the deep sleep creeping in.
Batteries going into recharge as my eye lids grew thin.
Thoughts fading, green valley images emerging.
Imagination and blurred reality merging.
Were forgotten friends force their memories to return.
Even those with scissors and those that watched my emotions burn.
I will always have time for them, all its takes is a kind word.
Just blocked by an ego that has become their lord.
The lord that holds their head under water.
Blurs their vision and hold their hearts to torture.
This dream will never end, its reflective surface shining in.
The width of the moon on the river, will not grow thin.
© Deon Heemskerk 9-9-2012
Dangers of an active mind
Dew drops sit on leaf tops, reflecting light into my eye.
The dawn creeps across the sky, finally the night will die.
The clouds form fish skeletons, pink, orange and yellow.
Early morning in the country, the best type of mellow.
Shaking off the hangover of sleep, conciseness gone missing.
The canyon of missing time, reality and events twisting.
Excitable lighting bolts of imagination, turn good sleep to bad.
Blanket of thoughts over the mind, to leave the dream I am glad.
The drowsiness of the night shift, is effecting my day time persona.
A mind slowly shifting into gear, working on a work disorder.
Lack of solid sleep has me perched between moody and drowsy drunk.
Not sure whether to get stroppy or laugh, my mind an apple rolling in an empty trunk.
The only promise, is the promise of a long day ahead.
Caffeine to keep me alive, till I revisit the bed.
© Deon Heemskerk 24-2-2012