Literary Yard

Search for meaning

‘The Nap’ and other poems

By: Erik Priedkalns

Photo by Muhammad Lutfy on

The Nap

I woke up from a dreamy nap.
Not beautiful dreamy,
but a slashing scene with
shortness of breath, sweat drenched face,
heart scooping sadness.
I saw the boys when they were young,
heard their blind faith chatter,
relived the time before the bomb.
Smoky edged scenes smoked my mind;
Little hands,
Little feet,
Little clothes,
Laughing, clapping, shouting.
Early morning milk.
Footie pajamas rolling on the floor just before dawn.
Rolling, crawling, diapers crunching.
They were both so young.
Right before the sadness came,
when I summoned up the terrible time.
After the dreams I wake with a start,
breathless from the living visions
that taunt and stand a moment’s step
in a discarded place
just outside
my reach.



When you’ve left it all behind,
sometimes you want to turn around,
or just go forward till you’ve been rubbed away.


The Missing

As soon as the sun was punched out of sight,
bleeding across Horizon’s Sunday line,
Loneliness hit me like a mourner’s prayer.
That place was the place of God’s last call.
That place was a gift and
I was there.
That place was God calling,
I disappeared.
That place was God calling.
It was,
But now?


Secret Sin
At least the guy who’s on death row
has the peace of knowing
that everybody


  1. I enjoyed reading The Nap and other poems. I like the way he put words together. They set a scene and are not just words.

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