Yorick
02-07-2011, 03:55 AM
A poem I wrote for school, which I was pretty satisfied with. I'd love some criticism though.
As God’s land-clock turns, men’s
challenges change. When monkey-men
loped the land, their minds thought
naught of huts, of houses.
Man’s marvels change as church-clocks chime,
Sundry centuries slipping by.
Yet over all of man’s ages and epochs
One tireless tyrant’s terror cast a shadow over man.
Every single man has been a slave to
one force since the dawn of time – Sleep.
Sleeps slows sleepers to
Sluggishness, leaving slovenly slugs
Behind. Beowulf, brave battler, knew this
Well. Gross Grendel, Cousin of Cain,
Killed a friend of the lord of the Geats, and he who
Died is dead because he lay slack on his back-board.
So sleep, that breeder of slack and sloth
Torments and taunts the trials of men.
Thus, this dastardly despot has driven Man with
Its whip, year after year into its death-circle.
Sleep grinds men in to the ground again and again,
Until the day comes for their death-sleep and they
Breathe their closing breath. Sleep, the bringer of
Darkness, death, decided doom – it is a damned demon.
For as long as the mind-eye can see, no man
Or woman has held his head high enough to look
The sinister sleep in the eye and declare:
“Death to you, doom-bringer! Your dastardly darkness has
Driven men downwards far too long! It is your day of doom!”
No man has raised his hand and made the fist to
Punctuate this challenge. No man, it’s said, until
The strong, powerful, brave Sabinus, son of the sun
Strode to the face of that strange beast, looked into it fearlessly
And chose to crush the chains of
sleep, bringer of death.
A power of pure evil, men ask,
Menacing the land of man – why has this monster
Survived, stealthily stealing lives? Why is Sabinus, the sun-son,
The first, alone, to stand against that strange monster?
I will tell you why: fighting sleep is folly. That
Monstrous menace makes men so deep in its grasp
That they could struggle, wiggle and writhe and wriggle,
And not be free of sleep’s grasp. The strong, brave,
Young, naïve son of the sun would see, soon.
Sabinus challenged not the serpent of sleep
Out of boastfulness, bravery (brave the boy was);
The brave boy berated the beast from need, necessity.
Sabinus suffered from sloth and some slackness. Sleep
Fought the boy viciously, beat him quite easily.
The son of the sun was made not for the moon;
Each night he struggled to comfort himself, battled
The sleep-monster for rest and reprieve. Sleep he
Could not find, nor use to good end, his
Ardor and knowledge-lust making sleep worthless.
Each night young Sabinus, neglecter of sleep,
Would read, write and reason in lieu
Of his bed-box. Each then night the young boy
Would sleep but very little, and often at dawn
His eyes remained open from previous dawns,
Weaving winding days long into one great day-thread.
These nights, it is said, are of great strangeness and note,
For the son of the sun slept not, that is sure;
He had help from the heavens, the boy.
God gave the boy gifts. His quest was quite
Brave, and the Lord Almighty bestowed upon
Young Sabinus this gift to aid him in his adventure.
Yet the young Sabinus was soon to find out of
The weight, the weakness, the wear on the eyes
That have not known the sweet, sweet rest of sleep.
His mind turned to meat-mush with much
Slosh and splash, his thoughts seeming splattered
To the point of all-lost. His father, great Seneca,
Sun-warrior, scolded young Sabinus of sloth
And stolidity. Septima, sister of Sabinus
Worsened matters. While Sabinus strained
and struggled with the bonds of sleep-slavery,
Septima was a loyal sleep-servant. Sabinus saw the sun
Set and saw it rise for days on end; for days on
end, Septima, timid, submissive, meek, slept through
The sets and rises. When the wind came form the West
In the morning for waking time, Septima slept still.
When at last she leisurely lifted her legs, she was lonely
In the sleeping quarters. The hours Septima spent with
Eyes open she showed shocking vigor. Straight
And alert, the sister of Sabinus sang and
Danced. When old Seneca, saw Septima, he saw Sabinus too.
The sun-warrior saw sleep strangle Sabinus. The
Sleep-monster’s strangle stifled his wit. With
His father, he dozed, drawing ire from many. Soon,
Sabinus saw a sadness that was true. Sleep conquered
Everything, earth, eye and animal. Stubborn Sabinus
Could not conquer sleep. Yet he still tried, brave and naïve
As a boy. Bound and determined, he stayed to his task,
The sleep-monster wearing, wooing, waiting, until
The day the death came, young Sabinus went, and with
Him the last leader of life’s legions.
As God’s land-clock turns, men’s
challenges change. When monkey-men
loped the land, their minds thought
naught of huts, of houses.
Man’s marvels change as church-clocks chime,
Sundry centuries slipping by.
Yet over all of man’s ages and epochs
One tireless tyrant’s terror cast a shadow over man.
Every single man has been a slave to
one force since the dawn of time – Sleep.
Sleeps slows sleepers to
Sluggishness, leaving slovenly slugs
Behind. Beowulf, brave battler, knew this
Well. Gross Grendel, Cousin of Cain,
Killed a friend of the lord of the Geats, and he who
Died is dead because he lay slack on his back-board.
So sleep, that breeder of slack and sloth
Torments and taunts the trials of men.
Thus, this dastardly despot has driven Man with
Its whip, year after year into its death-circle.
Sleep grinds men in to the ground again and again,
Until the day comes for their death-sleep and they
Breathe their closing breath. Sleep, the bringer of
Darkness, death, decided doom – it is a damned demon.
For as long as the mind-eye can see, no man
Or woman has held his head high enough to look
The sinister sleep in the eye and declare:
“Death to you, doom-bringer! Your dastardly darkness has
Driven men downwards far too long! It is your day of doom!”
No man has raised his hand and made the fist to
Punctuate this challenge. No man, it’s said, until
The strong, powerful, brave Sabinus, son of the sun
Strode to the face of that strange beast, looked into it fearlessly
And chose to crush the chains of
sleep, bringer of death.
A power of pure evil, men ask,
Menacing the land of man – why has this monster
Survived, stealthily stealing lives? Why is Sabinus, the sun-son,
The first, alone, to stand against that strange monster?
I will tell you why: fighting sleep is folly. That
Monstrous menace makes men so deep in its grasp
That they could struggle, wiggle and writhe and wriggle,
And not be free of sleep’s grasp. The strong, brave,
Young, naïve son of the sun would see, soon.
Sabinus challenged not the serpent of sleep
Out of boastfulness, bravery (brave the boy was);
The brave boy berated the beast from need, necessity.
Sabinus suffered from sloth and some slackness. Sleep
Fought the boy viciously, beat him quite easily.
The son of the sun was made not for the moon;
Each night he struggled to comfort himself, battled
The sleep-monster for rest and reprieve. Sleep he
Could not find, nor use to good end, his
Ardor and knowledge-lust making sleep worthless.
Each night young Sabinus, neglecter of sleep,
Would read, write and reason in lieu
Of his bed-box. Each then night the young boy
Would sleep but very little, and often at dawn
His eyes remained open from previous dawns,
Weaving winding days long into one great day-thread.
These nights, it is said, are of great strangeness and note,
For the son of the sun slept not, that is sure;
He had help from the heavens, the boy.
God gave the boy gifts. His quest was quite
Brave, and the Lord Almighty bestowed upon
Young Sabinus this gift to aid him in his adventure.
Yet the young Sabinus was soon to find out of
The weight, the weakness, the wear on the eyes
That have not known the sweet, sweet rest of sleep.
His mind turned to meat-mush with much
Slosh and splash, his thoughts seeming splattered
To the point of all-lost. His father, great Seneca,
Sun-warrior, scolded young Sabinus of sloth
And stolidity. Septima, sister of Sabinus
Worsened matters. While Sabinus strained
and struggled with the bonds of sleep-slavery,
Septima was a loyal sleep-servant. Sabinus saw the sun
Set and saw it rise for days on end; for days on
end, Septima, timid, submissive, meek, slept through
The sets and rises. When the wind came form the West
In the morning for waking time, Septima slept still.
When at last she leisurely lifted her legs, she was lonely
In the sleeping quarters. The hours Septima spent with
Eyes open she showed shocking vigor. Straight
And alert, the sister of Sabinus sang and
Danced. When old Seneca, saw Septima, he saw Sabinus too.
The sun-warrior saw sleep strangle Sabinus. The
Sleep-monster’s strangle stifled his wit. With
His father, he dozed, drawing ire from many. Soon,
Sabinus saw a sadness that was true. Sleep conquered
Everything, earth, eye and animal. Stubborn Sabinus
Could not conquer sleep. Yet he still tried, brave and naïve
As a boy. Bound and determined, he stayed to his task,
The sleep-monster wearing, wooing, waiting, until
The day the death came, young Sabinus went, and with
Him the last leader of life’s legions.