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Woke up! Woke up!

Asleep you sleepyhead,

You’ve dreams in your head.

Rome is burning,

While’st you’re,

still in bed.

Pop right up!


Let the fire inspire,

Don your fire suit,

Help put out the fire.

What’s that? You say?

You’d rather,

Sleep instead?

Cuddled up,

Head in the sand,


Awoke! Awoke!

The cry went up,

Rome’s not burning,

Look here you folks,

It’s merely a hoax?

A call to duty,

For every man,

Woman, child,

Who will step up to,

Dowse the hoax fire?

Look! Look around,

You sleepy-ly Shepard,

Your sheeps astray,

Whilst you‘re woke in bed,

Something went wrong,

Your culture’s been canceled

Whilst you slept away.

Who’s sheep are they,

Anyway lad,

You were counting,

Whilst snug in your bed?

If not you,

Then who?

If not now then,


You’ll go broke!

It’s no hoax,

Hoax’s in your head.

So awaken! Awokie,

No time to play dead.

tom tenbrunsel

Poet Laureate of My Domain

Author’s Note: The photo has nothing to do with the poem. The story behind the photo took place on the 1982 X-C Ski Trek across Michigan. The four of us had set out from Spike’s in Grayling, Michigan to complete the historic second half of the below zero expedition: Tom Jackson (pictured with me in our four-man North Face Winter dome tent), Lou Tornatsky and Anthony Thompson🙏 It was early morning and I was making an entry into my logbook. The night’s fire still smoldering, the hint of pine smoke in the air. Tom Jackson rolled, over and said, “Tom, my toe is still cold.” I sprung from my bed, shuffled the night’s fire into red. Into a cook pot went Tom Jackson’s toe, aside frozen morning snow and cold. We cooked that toe as we were told, back to life, that way. Do to quick action for Jackson, that toe’s with Tom to this very day.

For the whole story, check out “My Wrinkle in Time: My Memoirs,“ 2022

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2 commentaires

13 févr. 2022

I envy you for your experiences, Tom. What a wonderful life you've had.

14 févr. 2022
En réponse à

Thanks, Bev. I have been blessed by the people I’ve known, friends, family and adventures, of which I write.

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