Based in Boise, Idaho, The word No Has Escaped is a blog by Regan Meade. Her posts explore her life and the world around her through poetry; and to explore the creative mind by encouraging other writers to challenge themselves with writing prompts.


Reading of my origianal Poem 'Insomnia'

Reading books, counting stars, naming

constellations, or counting sheep,

nothing seems to hold onto sleep

long enough for it to be reality,


Countless sleepless midnights of

thoughts rushing from one

side to another, each as important as

the last,


Thoughts of love gone wrong,

gone right and

back again turning at disaster,

U-turning just before the river,

stopping at normalcy,

What is normalcy


is it when


A false start cheapens the taste

of wine from one bar to another, hoping

it will linger after a tasteless dinner,


Numbing long enough to find

rest without medication, to

let twitching fingers lay, silent

not selecting each second to switch thoughts,


Another restless night of wondering

what went wrong with

time, letting each minute drive by with

machine guns and machetes,

reeking havoc on neighbors with bright lights

and static screams,


Wondering who slept with who, how Dr.

Obnoxious made lead and continued to be the love interest

when pen clicks distract from

a heartfelt confession,

Changing scripts mid scene,

unneeded changes disrupt patterns,


Praying they’ll realize that shouting

at each other is as hopeless as

the degrading drywall between



Why won’t it end the monotony


of thoughts,


driving on curved roads,

speeding up, slowing

down, finding back roads,

changing lanes, cursing to the felted ceiling,


for a dead end to crash into, to

release stress and neck knots,

to find solace in darkness whose hugs

are like an old friend welcoming you home,


Testing each sense to the point of insanity, Forgetting that

road signs lead to another black

eye from meandering nightstands,

the breaking of solid matter, turning

sentences into incoherent

mumbles and slurs that

make a lush blush five shades of pink,


And another broken toe,

on door-jams that swing like toy monkeys,

in the hands of rambunctious children,

at the park,

ramming into blue plastic slides,

tied in knots around cold metal poles,

pain tolerance can only handle so much,

When did that get there,






It has come to this, now

after breaking and entering

into miscalculated sanity;

sleep is finally within reach, on

blank walls and broken wired connections,

Letting ear piercing sounds echo in,

the antechamber,


each day preserved is lost,

fading colors are welcomed, when drips

of clarity are

the songs of dream makers

in white coats and stethoscopes


To Whom It May Concern

To Whom It May Concern