SS (24 12 43 / woolwich london)

The Nightly Noises

The nightly nioses, they start with the rain,
I try to shut them out, but it's all in vain.
These awful noises, they never seem to stop,
they start at the basement, then go right to the top.
The roof is leaking, and it's in bad need of repair.
so up I go with a bucket, dodging every creaky stair.
The noise as I trip, starts the dog barking,
then home come the drunks, with their loud mouth larking.
The cats now scratching, at the back door,
if I don't let him out, there will be a pile on the floor.
The couple next door are at it again,
He sounds excited, but I think she's in pain.
There's a young boy racer, who come's a calling,
the way he drives that car, is some what appalling.
It's three in the morning, and he is out on the street
My blood is now boiling, and my tempers on heat.
The book I was reading, has become quite boring,
but how could I concerntrate, with the old man snoring.
Dawn is now showing, and the cock's a crowing,
joint with the wind, that keeps on blowing.
I have had no sleep, and I feel rather low,
Who-ever started the story, that in your sleep you will grow.
If you lived in my street, and you heard the noises call,
well maybe thats's why, I am only five foot tall.

by sylvia spencer

Comments (2)

Stunted growth, eh? Maybe you should move? Seriously, its a great read and one that lots of us can identify with. Its amazing how everything sounds louder in the dead of night....... Love, Fran xx
This is a poem that i'm sure many can relate too, the frustration of disurbed sleep is like torture, I hope that you manage to sleep better these days, a great poem from you again Sylvia, love Duncan