I wrote this poem: Nine Minutes
I hate mornings; I hate waking up and getting out of bed, especially if I have to do it before about 8 o’clock. After that, I have a lot less of a problem, even if I do just like lying there for ages feeling warm and drowsy and full of ideas. Unfortunately, on my commuting days, I need to leave the house well before 8 (like today), so the only way I can manage it is to set my alarm at least forty minutes before I need to get up, and hit the Snooze button multiple times, to fool myself into thinking I’m having a lie-in of sorts.
Nine Minutes
My finger stabs the Snooze button
and my nine minutes begin.
These are my moments of defiance,
and telling the day that it can’t start yet.
My moments of refusal and denial,
half-waking half-baked ideas,
and the sleepy warmth of my bed.
My nine drowsy minutes end with a shriek of static
that slowly becomes a voice or a tune.
My finger stabs the Snooze button
and my nine minutes begin again.
© 2009 C Sharp
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on February 20th, 2009 at 11:42 pm
A displaced young lady from Wales
Loved to sleep even more than read tales
All morning she’d snooze
“I’ll work later” she’d choose
So to wake her too soon always fails
on February 21st, 2009 at 10:27 am
When I was a teen, I had a little alarm clock that you could in your hand and it had a snooze button. It got so that I could repeatedly hit to button for hours without ever really waking up.
I like the poem, nine is a good number for writing – I wonder why that is?
Ken Armstrong´s last post: Stumbling Upon Ghosts
on February 22nd, 2009 at 10:40 pm
Brilliant, Max!
And Ken, I do something similar if I use my mobile phone as an alarm. I tuck it into bed with me, and then all I have to do is flip it open and closed to make it snoooooooooze. It runs on an eight-minute snooze cycle though, which confuses me.
on February 25th, 2009 at 8:29 pm
That’s the idea!
(I’m just back freaking out over all the typos in my last comment – sorry – ‘don’t think I had been drinking?)
Ken Armstrong´s last post: Stumbling Upon Ghosts