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DaSH the Hopeful Dec 2015
There's a beautiful gun in my hand.
Flawless.
                     The nightshift sun gleams off the barrel like a swan on a lake
     At home against the humid sweaty dark pressing against everything yet awesomely singular

     The clock stopped a long time ago and gunshots took over in place of the ticks and tocks…

     (I'm chewing on something soft)

                        … and I never noticed.

It seemed natural.
Every bullet chambered was just another hour passing

       And though it feels like forever I know its been half a day
      

        Blood laces the treads of my shoes
     Hugging the rubber and drawing patterns that I'm less aware of than I am of...

     (What is this? It's good.)

... myself

         Everyone I know is sitting in a pile.
        No more alive than the gun itself.
Still they talk. Memories are shared and advice is given. I don't care to know if its real.

        Everyone talks. It makes sense.
   Even the dead
.
  
           The ceiling fan noisily labors diligently if not futilely against the unspeakable heat. It's the only sound I can be sure of. The motion helps.

     Nothing else is moving except...

    
(Chewchewchewithinkicanithinkican)
    
        ...My jaw. Steadily gnashing through…

     (Everyone talks)

            My tongue. I don't care about the blood at my feet or the fact that its coming from my mouth.

      *What worries me is that now everyone is staring at me and I dont have any gun at all
These city lights look for all the world to me
like some spellbound amnesty
but in reality
they are the building blocks that bring the nights
so I can see
what is to come and what will be.

Like ships at sea that head to port
we're caught
and cast upon the waves like bread to be dispersed
saved ,reborn and nursed by those well versed
in maritime and chandler's stores and sending those back through revolving doors to drown again,
and how the night pours down on me
slipping quickly through the city light where the building blocks become another knock,a twist of fate,and being cruel would stand and wait,while I, the traveller stand and hesitate
to go on
to stay?
an end to an end or a beginning that would send me some hope,no pope here to bless me or you,just another city night to fight and fit tightly through until the morning comes and runs my fears away.

I stay and am obliged to those contributors,interlocutors who saw me,spoke, and watched me as I broke upon the morning shore,
score one to me and city nil
until tonight
when we will fight again.
Olivia Kent  Dec 2015
NIGHTSHIFT
Olivia Kent Dec 2015
Have not written much at all.
As work is always on the call.
I am prey to the poorly.
Always the sick.
Some self inflicted.
The ailing all want to steal my time.
And mine I'll give so willingly.
There is a passing passion to tenderly care.
My precious moments I shall share with the sick and the needy.
Tonight sadly, as well as stealing my pen my lovely patients shall  steal my sleep.
After the shift of the shadows from daytime to night.
I shall fulfill my role as the lady of the light.
When daylight of Sunday breaches my eyes my  much tired body will greet sleeps' surprise.
(c)LIVVI
Coralium Dec 2021
It’s strangely busy around the deathbeds,
as well it’s my last nightshift of the year.
I try to make no noise, can you hear me?
Push my hand, if you can, move a limb.
Your breath is so slow, please keep going,
monitors flash in time with the ventilator.
I’ll control the pupils, I know it’s blinding.
No one goes with their sparkling old eyes,
we are usually fading before we are dying.
keila skie Apr 2023
i have a lover
i have an unrequited love
i have a friend who i can talk to at night

it is the same person

i have known him for years now
i am sure he is still in love with his past love
i wonder if the only reason he talks to me at night is because he works the night shift
my dear friend, i have known you for 6 years now, you saw me become a woman and you were the person who made me one too. i know i said we could still be friends after that but it just kept on happening. my body found itself wrapped around your bedsheets more times than i could count. i started wanting more. it scared me. i didnt want to ruin the friendship we spent years building, but my heart could hold it no longer. i confessed and you rejected me in the kindest way possible. after all than i said we would stop holding eachother, stop craving eachother. and we did. but only months passed and we were alone again. we were weak. you for the warm feeling of holding someone, and me for the delusional idea that maybe you would want more until you became addicted. you never lost control. please lose control.
Shashi  Dec 2010
Butterfly
Shashi Dec 2010
This poetry is one of the collections of poetry I am writing, called “Kalina” about a small girl and her world, her feelings her thoughts. ‘Butterfly’ was submitted to ‘One Stop Poetry’ for the competition “Through a Child’s Eyes” and was selected as one of the finalist. Click here to read to read the article…

I have edited this one below after submission; hence here you have the latest version

Butterfly
_

Look, there she is
There on the window pane
A new friend from the dreams last night
She promised to teach me
How to fly, where ever, whenever
In sunshine or rain

How bright and beautiful, she is
Pinker than my ma’s cheek
Her little wings have so many colors
Like the rainbow
I painted last summer, for my Pa’s Birthday
Before he left for the war,
You know, to make money for us to eat

Tell me butterfly,
How does one eat money?
How does one go to the war?
I don’t want Pa to go to the war;
I don’t want any money to eat; At all
You know, whenever I hug him,
I don’t feel hungry,
God Swear, not at all

Oh! Butterfly!!
Why are you flying away
Going so far?
See, out side, the day is still full of light;
Sure you can wait a little more?
Promise, Ma will be back soon,
From her nightshift,
And, sure she will let you in
Don’t you see, I can not;
I am in the bed,
Too sick to let you in

Butterfly, my dear Butterfly,
You really have to teach me how to fly
Before you came in my dreams
I promised Pa - a hug tonight,
I know where he “wars” now;
Ma showed me the other night,
When she cried,
“There, Kalina, there he is, in the sky
That beautiful bright Evening Star”

You know Butterfly;
I love him so much,
Much more than I love Ma,
Really!
You must teach me to fly,
As I have to go today,
Yesterday, Pa told me
Its time now
Here you see
My Ma does not even smile much
Now

__
ॐ नमः शिवाय
Om Namah Shivaya
@Shashi / Nov 2010
http://shadowdancingwithmind.blogspot.com/2010/12/whispers-butterfly.html
Khoisan Feb 2022
An ****** nymph
discombobulated Darwin

a bushy bird
out dating carbon

this glorious lark

caused such a spark

seducing Ludwig,
to the beat of Marvin.
A Friday fun poem
Gaffer  Apr 2016
The Mantra.
Gaffer Apr 2016
5 am you woke me up, to meditate.

I thought someone had died, someone had, me.

It was the ultimate time, you said.

Looking down, I had to disagree.

Can you feel the energy, she said.

I can’t feel myself, go away.

This is a window of opportunity she said.

There was a window.

Let us breathe she said.

This had never happened before, nutcase  came to mind.

What is your mantra she said.

What is my name I said.

No, you have to reach out, draw in the energy.

I am going to reach out, it won’t be pretty.

Let me take you on a journey, join me.

I’ll phone you a taxi, blast, it’s your house, I’ll phone me a taxi.

If we connect the *** will be out of this world.

Okay, through the delirium I heard the S word

Mmmm feel it, Mmmm, feel it, Mmmm, can you feel it.

I can definitely feel something.

It’s getting stronger, we are one.

We definitely are.

We must connect.

We definitely must.

Before my husband comes off the nightshift.

Thought I heard the H word there.

Let us be one.

Let us wind back to the husband.

He is but a component in time.

What time does this component come home at.

Six, but it’s okay, he’s gay.

Thought I heard the G word there.

He likes to join in, which can be a pain.

When you say join in, what do you mean.

In the mantra, he likes to join in in the mantra.
Richard Riddle Mar 2015
Re: Ancient Greece: How do you read a sundial, especially if you work on a nightshift at Acme Stonecutters, Inc.? Something for Socrates to ponder.(He was always late for work)
bleh  Dec 2015
distraction
bleh Dec 2015
it's an old tale around town
that if you pierce the ground
with a needle just right
all the spirits will escape

no one really believes it
but the lore's dramatic flare gives a sense of community


at the bus stop  stand
twelve children with clay faces
day and night they stare straight ahead
and mumble the same word
over and over


Time passes by,
back bent and wretched
the dead grace of fallen kings

and eventually

the clay breaks,
the heads roll


a visiting CEO
stands to make a speech
but finds an emptiness
clawing at her throat

the clay breaks,

the silent tears
of the heart of a brooding teen
end their tenancy
and return to the ocean

a nightshift manager
swipes their card, closes the barbed gates,
fumbles rolling a cigarette
and draws in a sigh,
but the breath refuses to escape

the clay breaks,

a bluebird sings
but cannot recall the melody
petals clog the gutter
but the branches have long withered

people meet up and gather
to try to quell the empty pressure
they stand to chant the childrens' lost word
but everyone remembers it differently


time passes
routine remains
but there are waves in the waterways
and sometimes people on the surface streets
find themselves lost in the tide


time passes,

the dirt city convulses
under its silent weight

we gather a needle
and pierce the ground,


but nothing happens
...
Basbee  Dec 2014
Michael Ngobo
Basbee Dec 2014
You are my friend
You are a part of me
You understand me in ways other people can't
You are a part of my joy
You are so funny
You are caring
And so lovable
You are my Portugues King
You will always occupy a special place in my heart

You have this deep voice that I can't seem to get over
And I somehow don't understand you over the phone
But when you say 'yes' it drives me crazy
Just the sound of you keeps me sane

We may have our arguments and we disagree on a lot of things
But we do have one thing in common
We crazy *******!

You my *****
I know I can always count on you

You are my nightshift fetish
And I've replaced my addiction to smoking with my addiction to you
Coz you are my daily fix

I will love you till death
Dedication to my Best Friend Mike. I love him so much.
No, he's not in the FriendZone.
Gaffer  Jul 2015
The Mantra.
Gaffer Jul 2015
5 am you woke me up, to meditate.

I thought someone had died, someone had, me.

It was the ultimate time, you said.

Looking down, I had to disagree.

Can you feel the energy, she said.

I can’t feel myself, go away.

This is a window of opportunity she said.

There was a window.

Let us breathe she said.

This had never happened before, nutcase  came to mind.

What is your mantra she said.

What is my name I said.

No, you have to reach out, draw in the energy.

I am going to reach out, it won’t be pretty.

Let me take you on a journey, join me.

I’ll phone you a taxi, blast, it’s your house, I’ll phone me a taxi.

If we connect the *** will be out of this world.

Okay, through the delirium I heard the S word

Mmmm feel it, Mmmm, feel it, Mmmm, can you feel it.

I can definitely feel something.

It’s getting stronger, we are one.

We definitely are.

We must connect.

We definitely must.

Before my husband comes off the nightshift.

Thought I heard the H word there.

Let us be one.

Let us wind back to the husband.

He is but a component in time.

What time does this component come home at.

Six, but it’s okay, he’s gay.

Thought I heard the G word there.

He likes to join in, which can be a pain.

When you say join in, what do you mean.

In the mantra, he likes to join in in the mantra.

— The End —