nocturnal permissions

I was thinking about writing the other day, specifically poetry and realized I hadn't written a poem in over two years.  I used to be so inspired to write poetry.  Lines flew into my head like it was the easiest thing in the world.  But one day, for reasons unbeknownst to me, it became harder and harder to write and the words wouldn't form and the lines that once slipped in so easily no longer showed up.  And I had to force it and it didn't feel natural anymore so I just stopped.

I suppose all of this thinking about poetry might have been why a poem suddenly popped into my head one night.  I just happened to be in that stage of sleep twilight, those precious few seconds when you can actually feel yourself crossing over into unconsciousness, a moment when you feel as if your internal organs have shifted just so, a wash of nausea and then your awareness fades and you're under.

It was odd because I haven't had the ability to write poetry in years and suddenly, this almost fully formed poem is thrust into my mind right before it shuts off for the night.  It wasn't a good poem but I found it interesting that it even showed up at all.  I don't want to say I thought that part of me was gone but I feel my writing has changed since my last attempt at poetry writing and it almost feels like it's just not the appropriate medium for me right now.  I don't understand poetry enough to appreciate it the way I should nor write it how I should.

This isn't the first case of it happening.  Back when my creative juices were really flowing, poetry came flooding into my head night and day.  I often found lines embedded in my head and it was as if digging for sleep somehow uncovered those buried bits of mood and feeling.

I've even managed to come up with melodies and song lyrics seconds before sleep, which is quite curious because I am no song writer, nor a singer by any stretch of the imagination.  Yet, there they were, these incomplete bits of songs and poetry, lines of feeling formed and free falling in my mind, snatched up seconds before sleep.

It's as if those few moments before I fall under are when my mind allows itself to break free from the strain of worry and fear and it grants permission to explore my pent up emotions in a more creative way.  It's as if drowsiness is an elixir of sorts, my drug of choice for coming up with ideas.  I've always come up with my best ideas at night.  It's when I work best.  It's when I feel calmer, more focused and less sporadic.  It's as if the closer I get to sleep, the more creative I become, the apex being at the moment when my brain is in transition.

Who knew my muse was hiding at the bottom of a bottle of night time cold medication?  Maybe I just need to stay buzzed on sleeping pills.  Then I can finally find my creativity again and write good poetry and finish my book and work on others.