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
Working Class Writer & Artist with Level I Autism & a whole lot of Bipolar. Based in Newcastle- upon - Tyne. MA in Creative Writing.
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Comments (1)
I love your poem! Could you link back to the first iteration so I can see the difference? 🙏