When Did You Notice? – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: engin_akyurt at pixabay.com

“Sleep, that deplorable curtailment of the joy of life.” Virginia Woolf

When Did You Notice?

Did it come naturally
this penchant for sleeping,
when did you notice you
weren't awake,
that sleep had arrived and
how did you learn this
ancient, elusive skill whose
deficit tilts the world against us,
making strange the claims of
waking, and those drowsy 
interludes of netherness that
collude against one's independence ,
mocking our inadequacy,
smiling secretly at our inability 
to stay with the moment,
calling us to surrender to
horizons beyond our waking hope,
when did you notice?

Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️ 


Filed under awareness, Free Verse, life, poem, quote

30 responses to “When Did You Notice? – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

  1. Let’s dream a little bit more. 😉 Very thought provoking, Paul! Thanks for sharing, and excuse my delay. Have a beautiful weekend! xx Michael

    Liked by 2 people

  2. I have noticed that sometimes when I sleep lightly I have the same thoughts I had when/if I fell asleep. If time has passed swiftly I assume I’ve been asleep.😴😴😴

    Liked by 2 people

  3. When I’m asleep and dreaming, I can’t tell that I’m sleeping. It’s the same as being awake–until I wake up. (I probably shouldn’t try to think too hard about this. 😉 )

    Liked by 3 people

  4. Love this, Paul!


    Liked by 2 people

  5. Possibly last night at 3 AM😄

    Liked by 1 person

  6. I was meditating only today on my late teens, when I was still able to be active in the world throughout the day (disability has long put paid to that capacity) and was a member of the per diem secretarial work force, sometimes on assignment to some of Boston’s most prestigious collegiate departments, others in business offices which had not moved premises or substantially altered their working methods for the entire two hundred years they’d been in business.

    At the same time I was living in what can only be described as an extremely alternative household. The contrast created a lot of thought provoking comparison and contrast in this fledgling poet’s mind.

    What was it, I asked myself, about the reality in which I worked ~ which was easily as chock full of human foibles as that in which I lived but seemed to me much less honest about it, in which I felt continuously made to be less-than (a youthful hardcore world class poet, to the intellectually opportunistic, is as fair a walking prey as she is among the denizens of our streets, but, again, less honestly so), as well as in which I was receiving a proportionally very unfair return for services which were, in addition, precluding those I am intended to offer my society from the heart ~ what was it about that environment which brought me back to it each day in a state of relative emotional complacency?


    It was easy. It was accepted. My best was not expected of me ~ in fact, it was resented by those who saw it as raising the bar. I could, as you have just so ably put it, sleep through it.

    It was just too easy. All she wrote.

    We just have to hope she’s gonna write some more, eh?

    Much love to you, brother 💖🙋

    Liked by 1 person

  7. lync56

    Great poem – left me thinking and pondering


    Liked by 1 person

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