This week, our dear Walt was suffering once again with brutal complications due to lack of sleep. Our bodies and minds require proper rest, and they certainly have their way of letting us know they are not happy when they don’t get enough.

This week, let’s write a resting poem. Possibilities include sleep, hibernation, vacation, a break from the usual, bed rest, arm rest, foot rest, musical pause, and all the rest. 😉 Walt and I will start, and the rest of you follow whenever you like.  (I think I hear Walt groaning over that last line from clear across Lake Erie).

And Walt?  If you don’t get your needed rest, I’ll be scheduling a plane trip to your place for about, oh, a hundred or so of us to take turns forcing you to sleep.  I rest my case.


Luke 8:25b.  “Who then is this, that even winds and water obey him?”

What Storms May Come

Winds and waves threaten and rage.
Chaos ensues.
Fear engulfs.

Jesus sleeps.

The boat is small.
The collective faith, smaller still.

Jesus speaks.

Winds and waves grow tranquil.
Calm ensues.
Relief gives way to query.

Jesus ministers.


w.w. cummings and gowings – (i’m not afraid of you)

no rest for the weary

it does not matter how tired you are.
it does not matter that you are over-worked.
it does not matter what your brain cells dictate.
it does not matter how destructive it is.
all that matters is that you persevere.
“no rest for the weary” is not a theory.
it is just plain scary.

Today is a good day  (would be great without this headache and blurriness).  Thank you all for your kindness and thoughtfulness.  It means much. I’m  sure not all days will be this way. but today I write.  At least it looks like a poem.

From Marie Elena: Glad to have your words any time we can get them. Sleep, friend.

231 thoughts on “GET SOME REST – PROMPT #62

  1. Cascade [ABCDE aaA bbB ccC ddD….]


    Your whisper in my ear,
    Your caress on my brow
    Wraps full ‘round my being,
    You calm my racing heart,
    Quiet my frantic mind.

    Knowing that you are near,
    I bend my head to hear
    Your whisper in my ear.

    I lift my head up now,
    Facing you to allow
    Your caress on my brow.

    You presence, un-seeing,
    While your touch affirming,
    Wraps full ‘round my being.

    I’ve known you from the start
    Of me, you are a part,
    You calm my racing heart.

    I lean on you to find,
    Your embrace is so kind,
    Quiet my frantic mind.

  2. Marie, a comforting poem. Walt, yours is a triumph over trouble: how you manage to make jokes (your title is hilarious) and write so wittily given your state of exhaustion, is testament to your wonderful spirit. Stick with it, friend.


    There are some who hit the high spots,
    Have adventures, pass each test;
    There are some who are successful……..
    As for me, I’m with the rest.

    There are some who are athletic,
    Jumping hurdles with the best,
    Winning lots of shining trophies……..
    As for me, I’m with the rest.

    There are some who earn big money,
    Keep it in a treasure-chest,
    Eat out at the best of restaurants……
    As for me, I’m with the rest.

    There are some who wear high fashion,
    Always look superbly dressed,
    Look as though they’re from the cat-walk……
    As for me, I’m with the rest.

    There are some who make me jealous,
    Make me miserable and depressed.
    Lordy, lordy, how I hate them!
    Even as I am impressed.

    • Adorable, Rinkly! Even in my exhaustion from travel yesterday, this makes me laugh out loud!

      … and I’m with you. 😉

      Marie Elena

    • “…As for me, I’m with the rest.”

      Ringly, I’m right there with you. Great poem.

      Now…. if my server stops kicking me off line I can post this one and respond to more of the wonderful (restful) poems of the week.

  4. 2 little poems

    Quality of rest is
    more important than quantity
    for true peace of mind.


    Some of us are born to lead
    or so they think.
    The rest of us blindly follow
    the so and so politicians.
    Down with leaders;
    up with the rest.

  5. screen door
    porch swing
    trucks on the highway
    unexpected breeze
    makes you think of rain
    moths around the street light
    smelly old dog
    somewhere in the distance, a train
    voices from the kitchen
    putting things away
    guitar riffs trailing a passing car
    make you thing of another song
    you’ll be humming it
    when you wake up in the morning

  6. Koan…an Oriental Poem

    One Step at a Time…

    Sleeper, your heart rests investing in refreshment,
    your mind finds relief while mingling in dream state.
    As sun-kissed dew drop prevails snail travels peacefully,
    edging ahead on the fine thread of a single blade of grass.

    ©Hannah Gosselin 7/1/12

  7. Marie…your poetic offering today is written with much wisdom…very well done my friend!

    Walt…your poem is penned perfection…keeping that perseverance in balance…a must. I wish much peaceful rest and healing remedy for your headache and blurriness.

    Sunday smiles and blessings to you all!!

  8. Snapshots of Chaos

    Hanging on a thin cusp of exhaustion
    I stand in the middle of Epcot
    waiting for the show’s next act
    my skin baking in the summer sun,
    lips drier than a shriveled grape.

    I dare not move or else I’ll touch
    the other sweaty bodies surrounding me
    crammed in tighter than college students
    on a wild Spring break beach

    and suddenly I’m sitting on a sandy towel
    waiting for another beer I sent that jerk to find,
    the bass beats blaring BA-Bum, BA-Bum
    so loud I feel them in my heart

    snapshots of utter chaos I’d rather not relive
    the hopeless years wasted searching for myself
    in a frothy mug of oblivion, self-centered fear

    I turn my head to Mickey Mouse and smile-
    the crowd and heat a sober treat.

  9. Club of Knowing Smiles

    when the darkness has begun to creep
    for too long you’ve been beguiled of sleep
    because you’ve forgotten how to count sheep
    put to rest your pen, that mighty sword
    awaken and be restored
    to the club of knowing smiles

    when the mind has wandered countless miles
    danced and laughed on cloud built isles
    remember the soft pillow of compassion’s reward
    awaken and be restored
    to the club of knowing smiles

    O’ murdered sleep your tongue reviles
    rest sweet rest, in spinning turnstiles
    for lack of, you can ill afford
    awaken and be restored
    to the club of knowing smiles

    Sweet dreams to you, our cherished Walt

    ~ Randy Bell ~

  10. Pingback: GET SOME REST – PROMPT #62 « cloudfactor5

  11. Marie, you have touched on one of my favorite biblical accounts! often I find myself whispering ‘who is this that even the wind and waves obey him and ‘why sis you doubt, o ye of little faith’. Your poem is wonderful! Walt, there is something about a poem written from deep personal experience that holds depth like no toher. Yours is such a poem today and bleeds with raw emotion…sort of Hemingwayish-like’ to me:) I hope things are on the up-swing …rest well.

    This poem is written for you and my hubby who finds himself in the hospital right now recovering from a ruptured appendix! We spent all of yesterday trying to get his pain diagnosed. At two this morning he had his surgery. I really wasn’t planning on writing but this prompt timing is too perfect.

    Rest well, my love
    All those dreams we’re dreaming of
    And all those fears we fear
    All the hopes we’re hoping for
    Will simply wait, my dear

    …or, while you rest perhaps our dreams
    Will unfold like a flower
    Our harbored fear might disappear
    As Hope remains our Power

    © Janet Martin

  12. A Lullaby for Modern Times

    Sleep, the world stammers on
    Tonight you stay
    Far from its buildings rising high
    Concealing the stars that dot the sky
    Close your eyes and let the breezes sway
    Into sweet dreams of hills and plains
    Dark rivers dreaming and what remains
    Of wilderness and meadowlands
    A dreaming song the crickets sing
    Rest peacefully, let tomorrow bring
    What it may.

  13. Walt, I’m so sorry to hear that you’re having further difficulties. I will keep you in my thoughts and prayers. I hope you will appreciate my efforts on this subject. I’ve been there, too, as I think many of us have once or twice, though probably with such dire consequences. Rest, my friend, as much as you can.


    What gentle rustlings
    Probe mind’s nooks
    While sleep hangs
    Suspended, waiting?

    What probings shake
    Awake memories
    Long forgotten
    While slumber paces?

    What shakings loosen
    Ponderings, dry eyes,
    And weave weariness
    Into strain’s distress?

    These rustling, probing
    Shakings serve to
    Alert, with useless
    Restless wonderings,

    Leaving behind
    Confusion’s legacy
    Of sleepless nights
    And fog-filled days.

    Oh, to sit beside the
    Stream of Forgetfulness,
    Dipping toes into sweet
    Thoughts of Easement;

    To feel Zepher’s breeze
    Linger on naked skin,
    While Pan plays his
    Lullaby to needy ears;

    To rest within a cradle
    Rocked by Earth’s pulse,
    Removing all care, worry,
    The better to nurse from Peace.

  14. Triumph

    A triumph, this waking
    well rested
    not overly or under
    much as the brown eggs
    on the stove
    which were hand delivered
    with a soft affection
    from a friend.

    A triumph, my reaction
    to the overly exuberant
    shouting and chattering
    of morning children,
    no bleary eyed cringing
    or flashing anger
    this time
    just a gratefulness
    shaking me like
    ripped foil
    or the subtle hint
    of your perfume
    as I remember
    how it warmed
    the nape of my neck
    like a passing breath.

    A triumph, as I wake
    and rise
    yet again
    intimately aware
    of the children,
    your empty chair,
    the empty place
    we still set there
    and how they
    never seem to notice
    your absence

    written for another challenge but seems to fit –

  15. In Caesura

    Learning punctuation
    is remembering breath,
    the subtleties of a short
    and long pause, dash, colon,
    a comma of thought,
    the finality of a stop,
    the regrouping of new
    lines and paragraphs,
    each claiming time,
    breath, rest.

    Musical scores dot
    and cross notes,
    negotiating time.
    Singers read the composer’s
    symbols marking when
    they should breathe, where
    they should hold, when
    to grow quiet, when
    to crescendo, to fade,
    to rest, to allow ourselves
    the space to gather life
    back to ourselves,
    like the pulse of a note
    trembling into silence.

    Sometimes it is not
    the poetry of language
    or the wonder of music
    that soothes us
    but the power
    of caesura,
    the voice
    of emptiness,
    the blessing
    of rest.

  16. Marie and Walt, I’ve enjoyed your poems today, along with those that have followed. This prompt reminded me of a George Herbert poem, “The Pulley” that I used to teach and still love. Perhaps, as he suggests, our restlessness pulls us to God when nothing else will. Also makes me want to take a nap 🙂 You’re in my prayers, Walt.

  17. Marie Elena, He always ministers to us, even when we don’t ask. I loved your expression of His being able to sleep in peace, without concern or worry.

    Walt, rest well.


  18. Rest, My Friend

    Rest, my friend,
    like a leaf dancing, whirling, swirling down a clear mountain stream.
    Rest, my friend,
    like The Braham’s Lullaby tinkling on a child’s music box.
    Rest, my friend,
    like a warm, caressing lilac-scented breeze.
    Rest, my friend,
    like a book of poetry and soothing, sweet tea.
    Rest, my friend,
    like silk swishing softly on skin.
    Rest, my friend,
    like gentle, lulling prayers of thanksgiving.
    Rest my friend.

  19. “Sleep Rapture”

    Long after the church bells chime midnight
    in the lonesome frost of faded light.
    Long after prayers are offered and blessings
    numbered between shutters of confessing

    the contrived sin—a washing of the heart white
    and worthy, there remains a solitary fight
    for a dream to tender sublime favor,
    to will, to rest, to respite and savor

    the absence of time until dawn’s light
    yawns and hums in sleepy delight.
    Not to capture the crumbs of slumber
    but to burrow inside its rapture of wonder.

  20. Pingback: Soul Responsibility « echoes from the silence


    I’m at the end
    of my rope, I have
    nowhere to turn.

    “Come to me…

    I’m exhausted, tired
    of being everything
    to everyone.

    …all you who are weary…

    I cannot bear
    the sole responsibility
    any longer.

    …and burdened…

    I need a break.
    Does no one care?
    Am I alone?

    …and I will give you rest.”

    P. Wanken

    Inspired by Jesus’ words found in Matthew 11:28 (in italics).

  22. Rest and Unrest

    So there we were
    four of us
    in a Ford Escort
    rental car, nerves shot,
    heading to Maine
    on vacation, when the
    car jumped into the next
    lane. It shook and shimmied
    like a belly dancer on speed.
    We swerved into a rest stop,
    and my husband refused to get
    back into the rented wreck.
    Three of us drove back two
    hours to get another vehicle.
    One waited.
    Four hours later, we arrived
    back at the rest stop, and there,
    in a lush of green expanse,
    under a shady tree
    was my husband, just closing
    a paperback, and stretching.
    After the Trip To Hell, as we referred
    to our Maine adventure years
    later, fears further, we realized
    that the rest stop in the shade
    was the only peaceful part
    of the entire vacation.

  23. Sleep

    Stolen sleep is sweeter, curled up on the couch
    or nodding off, book open on my lap, riding
    shotgun down the long stretches of interstate.

    An afternoon nap’s my guilty pleasure, soft throw
    to warm my toes, an old dog curled on the floor
    beside me, both of us deep in twitchy dreams.

    I wake with a start at the sound of the phone,
    unwilling to admit I was dozing, masking
    my groggy voice, quickly clearing my head.

    Even when I’m not alone, I fight the pull
    of slumber, telling that same old lie: No,
    I’m not sleeping. I’m just resting my eyes.

  24. REST

    A sigh.

    It’s all in a sigh.

    A surrender to no answer why,
    a deep breath
    after a long long cry,
    quiet in spite of a stormy sky.

    A place from which you might wish to fly,
    but on which
    you too
    are content to lie.

    As happy with low
    as you were with high,
    the tide came in, went back,
    a sigh.

    It’s all in a sigh.

    A sigh.

    REST well, Walt. Get well.

  25. Just
    At a time
    Is all you need face.
    One and no more – let all else go.
    No force, no push, no rush, no fuss.
    Just close your eyes now,
    One moment
    At a


  27. A change is as good…

    Long weeks of hard work
    slip slide into a sweltering climax,
    fizzling rather than thundering into summer.
    A few days of the well earned
    and term four begins:
    summer school,
    long hours,
    more planning than the three terms prior to,
    but a change is as good as a rest they say.
    Well “they” may well say so,
    but then” they” never worked the summer term!

    Cat naps,
    power naps,
    collapse on the bed can’t go on naps,
    Spanish style siesta,
    gotta getta resta.
    Each day bright eyed and bushy tailed
    or bushy eyed and bristly,
    but at the very least
    Ready and raring to go (back to bed)
    and waiting for the point when the day changes
    and some rest is found.
    Sleeping is for wimps the brave hearts proclaim,
    you can sleep in September…
    …if you make it

    So here we go me hearties,
    bold and brave,
    ready for the fray,
    ready for term four,
    ready for bed but hanging on
    and battling through.
    A change is always good,
    but not always as good as
    and frankly a rest would be nice
    for a change.



    I Felt a tender,
    restful energy touch me
    this warm, busy day.

  29. Pea picked

    One hundred mattresses towering high
    The finest bed sheets on which to lie
    Frosty fences in the Queen’s eye
    A sleepless night asking why
    Blue bruise she can’t deny
    Grand plan goes awry
    Day lights the sky
    She’s picked by
    One shy

  30. Anger Spread Like Killing Butter

    We choked.

    Ripples flatlined.
    No resurgence.

    No spontaneous
    combustion of life.

    Then I reached out
    touching you
    with soft forgiveness.

    Eating my words
    I finally let
    our argument

  31. When the Door Bell Rings

    The little chair waits
    for the impatient
    child whose anger
    took a wrong turn
    and sent him
    from his path
    of hostility
    to the corner
    and no amount
    of whining tears
    can make the timer
    ring any faster.

    Rest assured
    his mother knows
    just how long
    is long enough
    to teach him


    Let me give you a piece of my mind

    a broken counsel of crumbs, weathered and worn

    tiny bits of wisdom in edible form

    unsolicited fragment of heart

    greying edifice of ruin

    in shambles, unassuming, yet well informed

    Actions fueled by anxiety

    yield no peace

    But trial and troubles

    indeed only increase

    a breeding ground for

    injurious thistles, thorns

    such familiar food to the weary

    a well known bread to the worn

    Yet perfect trust

    In the Lord

    yields a fruitful rest

    that endures tribulation

    anchors the fickle soul

    solidifies lost hope

    arbitrates the blessed


    Dad, rest in peace

    and in peace, may you rest

    from the oppressing toil of an aging frame,

    bearing the heavy burden of daunting disease

    under the weight of another decaying day.

    rest in peace, you’ve now been freed

    in buoyant hope, those sweet feathered feet

    crowned with faithfulness, your blessed Redeemer

    you may now meet.

    • Rest in Peace…
      Such beautiful assurance for those who know the Blessed Redeemer

  34. Life Evolves
    ( a loop )

    I sit here all alone and watch you sleeping.
    Sleeping seems to be your lone escape.
    Escape from random happenings in your life.
    Life evolves in you as things take shape.

    Shape the solid mass that you’ve been gifted.
    Gifted glories manifest from dreams.
    Dreams are such a huge part of reality.
    Reality is never everything it seems.

    By Michael Grove

  35. Pingback: Selah | Whimsygizmo's Blog


    Snug in my blanket,
    I sit here reading a poem…
    Dreaming of those eyes.

  37. Pulled Taffy

    Where is the possibility
    of intentionally resting fingertips
    handing over to your sweet
    your oozing and contorting

    Laughter momentarily rests
    dripping between our words
    to form again
    in memories.

    The art of conversation
    with laughter tossed
    through give and take
    is lost upon the youth
    who buy their sweets

  38. A Broken Lullaby for Fortune’s Fool

    Resounding through the empty night,
    Discordant melodies take flight,
    Lyrics written by Fortune’s fool
    In tribute to a man whose cruel

    Intentions proved a fatal blight.
    Resounding through the empty night
    And drowning any chance of sleep,
    Those melancholy dirges creep

    Into the corners of her mind,
    All hope of respite undermined.
    Resounding through the empty night,
    The music of the sacred rite

    That haunts her since their vows went wrong.
    Destiny sings her fragile song
    Of love that faded with the light,
    Resounding through the empty night.

  39. The Rest in a Jar

    He was a March Hare chasing sleep.
    So one night he decided he ought
    to dress himself up as bait; sleep he would woo.
    Lambie slippers on his feet,
    Fuzzy sheep PJs – Baaa’Baaa,
    chasing after sleep, he caught all
    he’d ever need,
    and kept the rest in a jar.

    (a shadorma)

    The warmth and
    security of
    each heartbeat,
    through resting upon the breast
    of the one you love.

    P. Wanken

  41. Pingback: Contentment « echoes from the silence

  42. Pingback: Fry, Baby, Fry-day’s Freeforall « Margo Roby: Wordgathering

  43. REST (Niai)
    Close your eyes and
    Wing your mind to dreams
    Of floating over soft peaceful places
    At the end of the day.

  44. Technical difficulties have left me with about a billion prompts to catch up on! Aaaaaaaahhhhhhh!! Oh well. No rest for the wicked, eh? 😛

    The Rest of Us

    What about the rest of us?
    Remember those olden days
    (I don’t; they were before my time)
    When once a week we abandoned
    Our frantic, flurried busyness
    (The panic is all; all praise the panic!)
    And stopped to breathe?
    Stopped to remember
    Who gave us breath?
    (But after all, what does it matter?
    Breathing is overrated anyway.)
    Whatever happened
    To the rest of us?

Comments are closed.