This week’s poetry bus challenge offered several options and I sat musing about what is the first thing I experience when I wake up, or rather am woken up by my alarm, and it led me off at a bit of a tangent. The first line of Auden’s poem came into my head and became the title.
Stop all the clocks, shut off that incessant din
deliberately jarring to the dormant nerves,
like an infant’s urgent cry,
and dragging from the depths of sleep
reluctant slaves to time.
Curse the man who came up with the notion
that we should abandon natural rhythms
of waking when rested and sleeping when tired,
but instead be bound to mechanical devices
that count and dictate
our comings and goings
our ups and downs
our eatings and sleeping.
Curse that luminescent green
flashing from the corner in the dark
demanding your attention
smugly judging you for the dissipation of your life
as you try in vain
to cling to the vestiges of that haven