#nightpoem - Hello Poetry

Stop lights bleeding through wet windows, the kind of blue that tastes like cheap ***** and shame. He sat on the curb, penny loafers scuffed, socks lost from last night’s debacle. A 40-ouncer Schlitz precariously balanced between his knees. An old, orange tomcat scurried past, chasin’ a rat that took a wrong turn. Somewhere, a woman’s cackle echoed off the walls of the bar, or maybe it was in his head, debunked by ***** He slumped against the slick bricks, hands wet from the Schlitz, and thought about the highways he'd never been on. Cities that smelled like old typewriters and thrift stores. Streets lined with glittering promises he might finally write down. He prodded a beetle with his finger, trembling, cold, looking for a line out of the lunacy. Looking for the words that might stick and breathe, the sentences that might make someone taste a little bit of the ache he carried like a carnival souvenir. His reflection shimmered in a puddle. He thought about Narcissus, and the dog with a bone growling, and he thought maybe he could still write it. Could still leave his mark before the night ate him— like a Coney Island hot dog.

0

Dec 29, 2025

Dec 29, 2025 at 9:03 AM UTC

thomas-w-case

Puddles and Promises

Stop lights bleeding through wet windows, the kind of blue that tastes like cheap ***** and shame. He sat on the curb, penny loafers scuffed, socks lost from last night’s debacle. A 40-ouncer Schlitz precariously balanced between his knees. An old, orange tomcat scurried past, chasin’ a rat that took a wrong turn. Somewhere, a woman’s cackle echoed off the walls of the bar, or maybe it was in his head, debunked by ***** He slumped against the slick bricks, hands wet from the Schlitz, and thought about the highways he'd never been on. Cities that smelled like old typewriters and thrift stores. Streets lined with glittering promises he might finally write down. He prodded a beetle with his finger, trembling, cold, looking for a line out of the lunacy. Looking for the words that might stick and breathe, the sentences that might make someone taste a little bit of the ache he carried like a carnival souvenir. His reflection shimmered in a puddle. He thought about Narcissus, and the dog with a bone growling, and he thought maybe he could still write it. Could still leave his mark before the night ate him— like a Coney Island hot dog.

45

At night the stars seem far away, But through the dark is light and day.

0

Nov 9, 2020

Nov 9, 2020 at 7:17 AM UTC

Porto-graffiti

Night

At night the stars seem far away, But through the dark is light and day.

2

Above the night sky The moon is glowing high. The stars are dancing by side. The blaze of a moon is a magical boon The chilled breeze around Emits a melodious sound. That's make me feel The sky is our roof Where we all are safe. and moon is the guardian Who observes our peaceful nap Again and again.

0

Jun 6, 2020

Jun 6, 2020 at 10:12 PM UTC

abnic

The night sky

Above the night sky The moon is glowing high. The stars are dancing by side. The blaze of a moon is a magical boon The chilled breeze around Emits a melodious sound. That's make me feel The sky is our roof Where we all are safe. and moon is the guardian Who observes our peaceful nap Again and again.

13