The nights are mine
Nothing can change that
Peace, quiet and serenity
I’m alive, I can breathe
I can see clearly because
the darkness comes and the light fades.

The nights are mine,
And I never feel better
While you sleep, I live to the fullest
I smile, I laugh, I create, I learn
After a long day, I can finally relax.
Not be judged. Just be. Be me.

The nights are mine
Nobody owns me,
I’m by myself,
Running my own show,
Just letting my creativity flow,
And my intellect grow.

There's something about the poets

That leaves them wakeful

At midnight... and thereafter.


Perhaps it's because the blackness

Speaks like artful despair

Pitch dark

With just enough silvery input

From the stars

To perhaps stir up some inspiration.


Perhaps it's the romantics' glimmer of hope

As they hold their drooping eyes open

Wishing for the constellations

To write their stories for them.


Perhaps it's that those who feel alone

Fall in love with the moon

And her solitary beauty

So they search for ways to sing her praises

Before going off to cast their own light.


Perhaps these are some of the reasons why

Poets retire late

And rise later

Drawing funny looks

From the disciplined.


Perhaps it's not quite crazy --

In fact, it's quite normal

When you zoom in on a world full of wordsmiths

Churning out art beneath a blanket of dark.

Because sleep is not our muse --

Night herself is.

I feel like I have all the time in the world if I just stay up late at night.
Oh, but that's not sustainable.

“There’s a tribe called the Morning tribe
And I can’t understand them
They wake up so early and yet get nothing done
Their mind is idle ‘til midday and they laze around ‘til sundown
They sleep way too early and are useless after 10
They would judge others who are not the same as they are
Calling them names and lazy”

“There’s a tribe called the Night tribe
And I can’t understand them
They sleep so late and yet get nothing done
Their mind is idle ‘til midday and they laze around ‘til sundown
They wake up way too late and are useless before 10
They would judge others who are not the same as they are
Calling them names and lazy”

When you can't go outside in the cold
Cause it hurts your bones;
And you've caused self inflicted mayhem
On every surface of your skin
When the night is your only cherished friend
It comforts your deceiving soul
And sings you a fast tempo lullaby

-Kellie A Scranton

Some just begin to rise
Others begin to fall
People's sleeping changes with dusk
Heeding the night's call

The early bird tucks in for sleep
The night owl wires up for fun
As people continue their daily cycles
With the disappearance of the sun

You ask me why I'm so giggly
When the evening comes about
I laugh at what you cannot see
Until the lights are out

And when you keep on asking why
I keep on bitting on the lie
I've heard faking it is the same as winning
So I'll be a champion if I keep grinning
There are so many secrets I keep out of the light
But, close to freedom, I giggle before night