3am And It's Quiet Poem by Patrick O'Reilly
3am And It's Quiet
It gets quiet at 3am.
The bedsheets are wrinkled and rolled back.
Another half empty cup of coffee,
Another crumpled sheet of paper.
Elbows on the table, head in hands.
It gets quiet at 3am.
The only sound is the calm traffic in the street below,
And the late-night infomercial.
A breeze shakes the drapes.
It gets quiet at 3am.
I rub the sleep from my eyes and look out the window.
The streets are a ghostown, lonesome
And soaked in the early morning wet.
I'd like to lay down forever,
But it gets too quiet to sleep.
ah the nice insomnia visitor... good way of describing it man.. i suffer myself
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Wonderful poem. Loved it. I am reminded of poem 3 am, by poet Sister Frances. She has simply disappeared from the site. This poem was translated in Hindi and Malayalam by me and Poet Kavita Singh
When my children were brand new, I secretly loved 3am feedings: just the baby and me, and the night. I felt like a little thief stealing calm from the hands of daily chaos. Once in a while we saw the first hint of light creeping up, like it caught us in the act and shared our secret. This captures that feeling of stillness, and being seduced by it. Nice!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/24/2024 7:25:37 AM # 1.0.0.1119
nights when i would sleep by a window down near the beach, i would listen to the crickets outside & i think that was the last time i slept so well... i was 13. liked the last couplet. Sus