"Sleepless Nights" was written from those thoughts we keep hidden deep within our souls, those thoughts we never share, but keep to ourselves.
From its inception, “Sleepless Nights” has been a continued awakening of a man’s spirit, seeing life through deeply seated feelings, which I turn into words. Each thought, each emotion is something very special to be shared with others.
I won’t lie and tell you my path didn’t come with hardships. And when the lion roared I stopped long enough to collect my thoughts. And later I would write them for you as I did with, “I Should Have Screamed”.
My journey is not mine alone, each of us walk a similar path with all its joys and sorrows. I’m very proud of this endeavor, for it’s my best poetical work to date. And I’m equally proud that I was able to share a few moments writing with my nephew and friend, Christopher Appel. Many of you may know him from my poems, “Chris” and “The Special People”.
“sleepless Nights”, is a continuation of my thoughts from “The World Outside My Window”. Two long years in the making, reaching the bottom and fighting back to finish another chapter in this thing we call life.
Dan Hanosh
Dreams Are Yours To Share
Dan Hanosh grew up in the small rural town of Batavia, Illinois, southwest of Chicago. A place where everyone
knew who you were and kept a watchful eye on what you did. After a long career doing something he thought he loved, he realized he never did. And on a trout stream in Southwestern Wisconsin he found his true love as a writer.
It was during a sudden down pour he went to his truck and began to eat lunch. The rain was not letting up anytime soon so he took out a tablet and pen and started to write. And Dan didn’t stop until he had finished his first story, “The Blue River.” And he hasn’t stopped writing yet.
I am very proud to introduce my nephew and friend Chris Appel. He grew up living down the street from me, in North Aurora, Illinois. That is until I got a wild hair and had to move somewhere, anywhere.
At seventeen, my little buddy was diagnosed with MS. He is the little boy I bounced on my knee when I dressed up as Santa . . . He is the little boy I ran bases with up north.
I am so proud of him. Only twice have I seen his temper flare in frustration in all the years. He is my Gandhi, my Martin Luther King, my mother Theresa and my friend.
Sleepless Nights
Sizzling sultry days
drip drop rain pound against
a porcelain pan
basement stench
saturates the evening air
black night red light
flares burst neon
across the street
bitter tart tablets
slither upon my tongue
lingering throbs echo
no escape tonight.
Good Dog Bad Dog
Out into the street you’ll bound
I’ll yell you’ll stop momentarily
turn your head back to me
and continue running on
I’ll worry I’ll be sorry
that first time when you don’t
come back and I’ll cry and I’ll
wonder why something will come
over me and I’ll change