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Carlo C Gomez Jan 22
Are we all the same distance apart?
Are we nocturnal
because we buy into
rhythmic disturbance,
trying to find a memory
in a dark room?

In shadow of advancing myth,
there's evidence of hunters
in the glowlight,
with wings outstretched,
solitary and contrite,
we cut the night,
we cut the night.

From sticks to bitterness,
we cut the night,
we cut the night.

chitragupta Sep 2023
It is a new moon, outside
The bat’s wing-beat
And the bandicoot’s screech
Make for the symphony of the night

Red rivers dry up around the whites
Scrolling through the app
Nervous fingers tap
Waiting for unsent replies

In the darkness, the only light
The screen of the handheld device
Yet caged inside
An illusion of happiness
I have an app for modern medicine
Just not true peace of mind

A M Ryder Aug 2023
We, these wing'd
Wicked things
Filth and fiends
Fearless and free
Terrors that soar
Waking you
From fevered
On a whim
Fugitive as
The wind
In sin
Do you truly
Know your
Wolves within?

We are you
The madness
That lurks
Within your
Deepest animal
Mind; begging
To be free
Vitæ Dec 2021
shadows are born from light,
but darkness is not the absence of sight
so follow the stars in their endless flight,
O child of the night.

where light meets the shade
is where the journey begins,
with no horizon the eye can see
so too the boundless feeling within.
Khoisan Mar 2022
In Zeppelin's dream

monsoon lovers  
in cocoon

ecstatic kaboom
Dave Robertson Jan 2022
Have you considered the owl?
Excluded from days
like a diabetic warned off fudge

Is the carob of night enough?
Sure, it’s dark, possibly smooth
and those tasty rodents move there

But look at the day
with a head that can turn right round
you’d see every rotten thing

Every bad stroke and selfishness,
every creaky knee and thumb
in clarity, loud

Oh to be the owl
aspen wilde Jul 2021
we learn to navigate the darkness
learn to let it seep through our souls
that way it's no longer unnerving
it's comfortable and beautiful
the beauty of being nocturnal is one i wouldn't trade for anything
Amy Perry Feb 2021
I chose you
Like the butterfly
Chose the sun.
Like the moth is
Nocturnally drawn
To the moon
And any other
Illuminated illusion.
Frenetically chasing
In a trance-like dance,
We wade through
Day and night
Like winged creatures.
Expressive messengers,
Speaking a language
In metaphor
Available to all
Who can hear
Symbols and scriptures
Written by an architect
Keen enough on details
To give day and night
Its doting darlings.
Morning sun comes
Nowhere to hide with the lights around,
Always waiting for the night.
This goes out to all the nocturnal animals, who are at one with themselves only at night.
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