#nightowl
many people are going on trips
traveling to other states or countries
having a vacation
in the sun on the beach
me on the other hand
what am I going to do?
I will lay in bed all day
binge watch tv
cuddle with my cats
stay up late
I may not be doing what others are
but I will still be having fun
I'll enjoy my spring break
but in my own way
Mar 27, 2025
Mar 27, 2025 at 8:17 AM UTC
Rock n’ roll music, Folger’s, and paint-smeared hands.
Dresser drawers filled to the brim with undeveloped camera film.
Blue bonnets and overgrown grass, pecans and crunching fall leaves.
Dirt roads and river-rocks, typewriters, polaroid cameras, and feather-quill pens.
Those hand-me-down blue eyes and brown ones that are “sometimes hazel.”
Crystal clusters and Lord of the Rings.
Countless mosquito bites and play-pretend games in the clubhouse.
Early-birds and night-owls.
Trudy; and Randy Hayes.
“Don’t touch everything you see,” and “If you say you’re bored, I’ll find work for you to do.”
Sweet tea and okra and southern dishes blackened and drenched in cheese or gravy.
Grandma always burned everything to make sure it was fully cooked, and to her, it was never burned, just “well-done.”
Cigarettes and carpentry and cookbooks. Wild blackberries and birthday parties at the lake.
Sleeping in all day and staying up all night and procrastination.
Shepherd's Pie, potatoes, and four-leaf clovers.
“Nil Desperandum. Never Despairing.”
I’m from a whole house that eats eggs for breakfast, and I’m allergic to eggs.
And trees as tall as buildings and buildings as tall as trees.
“You should never take the lord’s name in vain,” and “Jesus loves you, so you should love others.”
Day-dreams and stargazing and thunderstorms.
“All or nothing,” and “There is no try, only do.”
Old family pictures in dust-glittered frames.
We are crystals. We have facets, each one makes us who we are.
With only one window of our lives to express, we’d merely be glass.
I am a part of each of these things just as much as they are each a part of me.
Feb 25, 2021
Feb 25, 2021 at 12:36 AM UTC
I used to stay up all night in deep study,
but now my studying is slimmer because I've found more answers.
Now:
After an hour or two or rest there is a fresh
ground to plant myself in.
After two or three hours of gardening
in the fertile field, the crop is planted, and
the morning's work is done.
I now need to rest again for new fertile ground,
but also for the night
plants to sprout to cover my tracks.
Sep 24, 2020
Sep 24, 2020 at 5:07 AM UTC
It doesn't feel what's real or unreal
once you lose the control of your breath,
It seems heavier everything inside
and no one to understand what it feels like,
It's the real mess!
Just someone immersing you with its ******
and you can't shout or speak out,
all you do is stare but no one look out
when you are trying to breathe,
but inside you are dead.
Apr 30, 2020
Apr 30, 2020 at 8:45 PM UTC
1am thoughts drive me outside to the stars
the wet grass and night breeze remind me
it's not a bad world
it's not a bad life
it's just a bad night to stargaze
clouds litter the sky,
but somehow stars still peek through
clouds roll on
and somehow they unsteady me too
I could lay here for hours
in the uneasy silence of the night
Apr 14, 2020
Apr 14, 2020 at 1:54 AM UTC
Every morning a beaming carmine penetrates my brain
unbeknownst to their perilous call
a smiling bird and a white heal all.
Violates me at my eyes
from green chasing lies
from wicked placed disguise.
Pencils of light at three trips
Here's the stalker of stalkers that haunt my pre dream routine.
Every evening a lustrous crimson punctures my lungs
unbeknownst to their unsafe swath
a quiet bird and a paper moth.
Vexes me at my eyes
from yellow following lies
from haughty placed disguise.
Pencils of light at three trips
Here's the lurker of lurkers that submerge my pre dream routine.
Every night a hazy velvet pierces my heart
unbeknownst to their loving provider
a dead bird and a snow drop spider.
Visits me at my eyes
from red moving lies
from stoic placed disguise.
Pencils of light at three trips
the finest sliver of silence you can imagine.
Feb 19, 2020
Feb 19, 2020 at 8:35 PM UTC
vibrancy emits amongst the echoes of the night
as slumber casts itself on most these hours, absent light
while some lack productivity, with efforts turned to ruin
my product of activities proves grand by starry lumen
ideas are born, regrets are mourned, and midnight snacks consumed
to moonlit ante meridiem: my fondness, ever true.
Oct 11, 2019
Oct 11, 2019 at 4:20 PM UTC
There was an agony in my voice
Unheard rant and tirade against
The world that couldn't appreciate your sole identity.
Life as we know it!
Trembling in fear, braving the storm not to break down in tears.
When billows of sadness roll
Embracing the state of solitude, no one to call.
Behind the dark circle, hidden with a concealer
Bottled up paranoia and scars
Drowning in a sea of misery.
What could've been done to alleviate this malady
I wish I could crumble into pieces
As ashes of smoke, disappearing into a thin air.
Did I chose this melancholic trail
Unable to succumb myself to death.
I,
A living dead
Leave me alone
I can't handle anymore pain.
Mar 28, 2019
Mar 28, 2019 at 3:24 PM UTC
cant sleep because
im thinking I'll love you forever
but you can't say the same
because you loved me once
but never again.
just best friends
always & forever
and i guess that's okay.
Mar 2, 2019
Mar 2, 2019 at 4:32 AM UTC
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.
Jan 5, 2019
Jan 5, 2019 at 11:38 PM UTC
Fought with my own demons
Entangled thoughts caught with tumultuous wave of emotion;
Fragile I was
Clothed in stain.
Found a solace in your presence
You're the home I run to while I was dealing with pain.
Dec 7, 2018
Dec 7, 2018 at 10:39 AM UTC
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.
Oct 18, 2018
Oct 18, 2018 at 10:19 PM UTC
I'm waking up again
I'm not alone, my friend,
Some evening leaves love dancing in the wind
So as I start to grin,
I know the party starts
I feel them in my eyes,
My pupils' shaped like hearts
The city sings a tune,
The crowds are walking laughter
And as the flowers bloom,
Fortune comes from disaster
Wish the night would stay with me,
It's when I feel the most of peace
But just like many wondrous things,
They love to die when it's too early
The colors may just fade away,
When does a rainbow turn bland
Sometimes I don't know what to say,
My time just ran out of its sand
May 20, 2018
May 20, 2018 at 6:07 PM UTC
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.
Mar 14, 2018
Mar 14, 2018 at 1:42 AM UTC
“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”
Sep 15, 2017
Sep 15, 2017 at 2:28 PM UTC
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
May 21, 2017
May 21, 2017 at 4:44 AM UTC
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
Jan 1, 2017
Jan 1, 2017 at 10:10 PM UTC
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
Dec 24, 2016
Dec 24, 2016 at 8:18 PM UTC
I dreamed as if a cumulonimbus cloud had caught me
Falling, I was, deeper into wherever my mind decided to be
At first it was the color of purity... marshmallow white
Colored with emotions, It was such a beautiful place to find
Though it felt like a blissful eternity, it was only just a night
I soon was forced to understood the dark underbelly of that cloud
When the alarm woke me from my heavenly dream
And the clock became my hell.
Sep 14, 2016
Sep 14, 2016 at 10:41 PM UTC
when the night comes silently
and all the world is asleep and still,
when the minutes and seconds
are suspended and slowed down
and the city becomes a whisper,
that is when i wake up.
night time is my time
to feel, to cry, to think, to write,
to be myself, by myself,
on my own terms.
by day i am a walker,
a zombie, a nothing,
just waiting
for the lights to go out.
in the darkness, i am
a beacon of light.
in darkness i am the light.
May 24, 2016
May 24, 2016 at 5:25 AM UTC
Clouds grey telling me the future and the past.me wondering how long this future can last.
keeping in mind that
It all comes back around, something similar to like a merry-go-round. with the price of different people different acts including different facts... It's either better or beyond worse, sad to say but theirs some life who can't overcome the curse £*£¥
Some are fortunate hitting the lotto, others are caught trying to steal an auto. I don't know but it all seems a little crazy causing me to sit back and roll up a stick that's hazy .
midnight skies never tell lies, the moon is my light at the end of the tunnel until my demise; never questioning why my eyes are drawn to this dark sunrise...
May 20, 2015
May 20, 2015 at 1:56 PM UTC