"nightcap" poems
The lone eagle makes its
solo journey over the vast horizon
I can see my flag in
the setting sun
as the lemon halo of fire
becomes a vivid pomegranate red,
the turquoise sky darkening
into a sea of navy blue
and wispy, white clouds
are hovering over us like
spirits in the universe
Lady Liberty,
overlooking the evening
of the New York Harbor,
displays her lit up torch like a
cosmic nightlight
She forever sheds light over
weary Americans
to remind us to
still dream the American dream
but that vision often seems
so out of our common reach
Uncle Sam has put on his nightcap,
a tuckered, old man is he
The crickets are chirping,
singing to me their strange lullabye
as I think I'll call it a night
Goodnight, America, Goodnight
Nov 14, 2010
Nov 14, 2010 at 10:33 AM UTC
Oatmealed and omeletted, start to a dull grey Seattle day
Mutual “Good morning” yawns wait the elevator gruzz
Cheery maid vacumates my room in a swirl of efficiency
Brundling my notes and my PC together I walk to work
Strumphing along beside the fumes of the grundling traffic
Email mountains confabulate the uncoffeed hordes
Typed kerattle the calm before the budget storm
Subterranean stocks desphorror of legal gamblers
Bonehead logic meets dumbling marketing aspirations
Now silent nerbling excuses of cur-whipped executives
Micawber’s message crystal in strangression of promises
Fundamental economics the only possible bankerage
Blood will flow in abattoir of management incastrophies
Doe-like and frembling in the light of impending execration
The stapression painfully personal as reality bites as last
Beer time comfrunks gather early in a huddle of hope
Sheep-like they absorb the tendralations of others’ fears
Remonstressing their misfortune in a depression of dinner
Relaxed at last in a hopefindation of beer goggle logic
Sleepfully staring at the mortgage arreared ceiling
My thankful escape to the Murakamied Sputnik symphony
Harmony in the silence of solitaricious nightcap with Hilton Mark
Wishing I was home now with my cuddlicious girl again
Grateful for loving and living in this aventacular world
I quietly srift off to sleep in a snozzle of sweet dreams
Nov 25, 2012
Nov 25, 2012 at 9:28 AM UTC
Death stalks
On velvet paws.
A pounce, a flash of claws,
The small and helpless in its jaws.
Fat Cat!
Milk calls
Emptying lap.
White drops make warm nightcap.
Silky shadow dodges a slap.
Fat Cat!
Warm bed
Invites slumber.
Contented purr thunders.
Muddy paws on bedclothes wander.
Fat Cat!
Jan 23, 2012
Jan 23, 2012 at 5:01 AM UTC
If I could pick the menu,
I'd choose a tasty appetizer of Hendrix pituitary,
& a huge salad covered with Joplin cortex.
Plant's gray matter for the main course,
sides of Jaggar & Morrison stems,
along with a bottle of Springsteen spinal fluid.
I'd definitely have to order
an ample sweet-portion
of Daltrey thalamus
& sprinkle it with some Cobain lobes.
A shot of John's cranium
with a nightcap of Townsend cerebellum
would surely hit the spot.
Aug 18, 2014
Aug 18, 2014 at 10:10 PM UTC
I woke to a morning that called out in crystals,where mistletoe ice wands would grant me three wishes and wise men were wrapped up in kaftans and turbans.
The clock stuck at five,so the **** came alive and told time from cracked egg shells and church bells were snowed in,no dings and no dongs,the rights and the wrongs of it seem to fit in quite nicely,when at six the wind whips through the streets where I walk,it's like treading in chalk leaving footprints to read,with my toes feeling the way,so glad I wore two pairs of socks and my wellingtons today.
Then at eight there's hot chocolate and a muffin with jam and the work day begins.
No djinns and no genie,just the boss who's a skinflint and a tightfisted meanie
but it all ends at four when home seems to beckon,
I reckon I'll go and make more prints in the snow and maybe call in to see Andy for a pipe and a brandy,then off to feed Joe,(he's my cat dontya know) and then bed with my nightcap,take the bolt off the catflap and dive into a book I was saving for the time before I nap.
Sep 17, 2013
Sep 17, 2013 at 12:59 AM UTC
within Zieglerville, pennsylvania
genuine snow white hair
upon her noggin doth adorn,
perhaps she will divulge to me (in private)
after i croon (to said lass),
the melody of Jimmy Crack Corn
hmm...or, maybe this mission
perchance twill be doomed from the start,
and hence finding me forlorn
thenceforth, a backup contingency measure,
would warrant me to don my thinking cap,
and for extra ordinary reinforcement unfold
each Taj Mahal shaped ear flap
plus (for reinforced ironic steeliness),
aye also resort to buttress
any aural "stormy Dani yelling)
via walled in interlap,
which accouterment functions
as a double agent i.e. (or,
to be rather crude),
an audiological jockstrap
to vet or figuratively kneecap
any unwanted infiltrating leaping lap
ping "FAKE" distracting news
inducing madcap
mass media circus
driving this generic teetotaler
to pour himself a nightcap
essentially providing wig gull room
with very little margin of ear err, or overlap
against bigwigs to trumpet pap
pill low ma rendered free and clear
asper insidious (mama mia) paparazzi
charting imp pea ching fear
bringing out bare arms
most likely something internuclear
simply to discover visa vis authenticity
if cute employee
(sporting hair
white as the ****** snow),
which doth simmer and glare
blindingly, thus necessitating sunglasses
(I choose the Ray-Ban brand)
as recommended by cited
all time favorite pharmacist
who unwittingly (or simply because
my myopic eyes didst stare)
fixedly - drawn to such a darling (doll ling)
explaining any reason to go THERE
to CVS - that tis where.
Mar 28, 2018
Mar 28, 2018 at 5:58 PM UTC
Oh, give to me the freshest drink,—
A draught as smooth as silk
And whiter than the kitchen sink,—
A pail full of milk!
Pour it with love, and watch it flow,
(Nor spill a drop, for dread!)
Pour it precisely, enjoy the show,
And give it a foamy head!
I drink it ere the morning sun
Hath waked the early bird:
I wake and make a midnight run
To taste the lazy herd.
I rise at dawn and drink again,
And drink throughout the day;
Then drink a nightcap (or nine or ten)
And dream of curds and whey.
I've heard it said I drink too much,
And this is understood;
But man has never died from such,
And oh! it's just so good!
*
Mar 17, 2015
Mar 17, 2015 at 6:27 PM UTC
I finally tracked him down: the person within me who could live without you
So I made him a cup of tea and he began to prattle
About the demonic conductor of my symphonic heartbeats,
And the chthonic tranquility you once deposited into my life stream.
He sniggered at how, even now, I still attempt to draw from that diluted reservoir
In an attempt to discover anything more glorious that a utopian delusion,
An unwarranted euphoria derived from what someone might call the “good times”-
If I gave you the benefit of the doubt and admitted there really was a time your love wasn’t fictitious.
But, I digress
Because I wish you the best
Even if the good times discarded are times I should regret
There was a time when you uncovered my covert capacity for unexpurgated bliss-
The likes of which I had dismissed
As myth or at the very least unrealistic to attain.
Even if all of the solace I find in our memories is disingenuous,
I still thank you for way you fooled me.
And that’s why I screamed at him.
After the nightcap, I chased him out of the house for even flirting with the idea of his own existence.
For I have not the fortitude to meet with him for more than just a few moments.
Right now, I choose to cherish our memories until I forget that I love you,
Until the day I’ll be ready to unite with my harbinger of recovery.
Nov 27, 2018
Nov 27, 2018 at 2:18 PM UTC
Every night I go to bed,
Stuck with what he said.
My mind is just the same,
I'm dreaming he's in pain.
Paid with public money,
The ****** isn't funny,
If I could have my way,
He'd be sliced and diced today.
I'd collect together all his cash,
Every penny of his stash,
And spend it all on sausage skins,
To wrap him up and cover him.
I'd have him put in sausage form,
And eat him up to keep me warm.
I'd have him smoked and vacuum packed,
And placed upon the market rack.
Folk would come from everywhere,
Even those who didn't care,
All they'd need is just one joke,
To make them wish he'd never spoke.
What pleasure there would be,
In watching my TV,
No channel'd be a stranger,
For there would be no danger.
So I'd make myself a nightcap,
And a big fat sausage bap.
And I'd thank the BBC,
For football's finally free.
Jul 19, 2012
Jul 19, 2012 at 12:31 PM UTC
We know the importance of sleep for our health and appearance. But when it comes to getting at least eight hours of quality sleep, this is easier said than done. You could be tempted to watch that late night movie, or read one last chapter in that book.
For many of us, the goal of sleeping at 9 or 10pm may appear elusive. Many sleep at a decent hour but suffer from bouts of insomnia.
It pays to learn how to sleep. Ever wondered why babies and children have such beautiful skin? Research shows skin cell regeneration doubles at night and peaks between 11pm and 4am. Sleep deprivation leads to inflammation and oxidative stress which contributes to aging.
Here are some tips on how to sleep better:
1. Control your exposure to light
To maintain a good sleep-wake cycle, expose yourself to natural light during the day, and complete darkness when you go to sleep. If you work indoors, try to get at least half an hour of sunlight during the day. Let as much natural light into your workspace or home as possible.
At night, avoid bright screens within two hours of your bedtime. Switch off all lights, wifi, and electronics in your bedroom. Rather than using the television to wind down, read a book or listen to an audio recording.
Invest in dark-out curtains to ensure the room is completely dark. If you wake up during the night and need to move around, use a dim light.
2. Maintain a regular sleep schedule
Sleeping and waking up at the same time each day, helps to optimise the quality of your sleep. If you need to make up for a sleep debt, take a nap during the day, rather than sleeping in past your usual wake-up time. Once you’re getting enough sleep, you won’t need an alarm clock to wake you in the morning.
3. Watch what you eat and drink
Caffeine can cause sleep problems therefore try to avoid coffee, chocolate, and tea after lunch. A nightcap may help you fall asleep. However, it interferes with your sleep cycle by waking you up in the middle of the night.
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Nov 30, 2015
Nov 30, 2015 at 12:55 AM UTC
This night’s task is surely daunting:
To cure myself and stop the haunting.
Reach arm,
Where is my nightcap?
(A single drink will do no harm)
Twist hand,
Turn down my bed flap.
(No chill shall cause myself alarm)
Look eyes,
Seek that light switch.
(I cannot bear my visage longer)
Be still fingers,
Cease to shake and twitch.
(Of their agency I’m not the author)
Move legs,
Plunge into covers,
(Lest you carry me from this rest)
Deaden ears,
Your hearing smother.
(Let no sound disturb my final quest)
Drink throat,
Imbibe the potion.
(Solutions will come at last)
Halt mind,
Not one more notion.
(Devilish memories long past)
Quite heart,
Take respite from beating.
(All the world begins to swirl)
Escape life,
I’ve finished breathing.
(Past Pain’s deep bonds at last uncurl)
I thought joining my love would be better,
Now we two haunt this place together.
Aug 30, 2010
Aug 30, 2010 at 4:27 PM UTC
She offered me a nightcap
but I forwent
the pyjamas
Feb 5, 2013
Feb 5, 2013 at 9:35 AM UTC
The Polo Grounds, when first seen,
are a most magical shade of green.
Hand in hand, me and my Dad
head for our seats in the right field stands.
It’s the Cincinnati Reds in town
to play the New York Mets.
There’s a double header scheduled,
How much better could it get?
Cincinnati took the first game
by a score of three to nil.
My hot dog was delicious
Dad had a beer to swill.
The nightcap was a wild affair
The Mets won thirteen- twelve.
You could look it up, as Casey said,
if you should care to delve.
We rode the subway home that night
side by side, me and my Dad.
We reminisced about the game
Like the most knowledgeable fans..
The Q44 from Flushing took us
up Queensboro Hill,,
past Carvel and Booth Memorial,
I remember it well still.
My father turned to look at me
as five decades creased my brow.
Making us the self same age-
What he was then, so I am now.
Thirty years, about, it’s been
Since last I saw my Dad.
The dead don’t get to baseball games,
Which I think is rather sad.
He can’t enjoy a summer night
on the wrong side of the grass.
And an ice cold beer is greatly missed-
He can’t pour himself a glass..
In memory, we still can walk
With those who came before.
So I took my Dad to a baseball game-
What was I waiting for?
Dec 4, 2011
Dec 4, 2011 at 6:28 PM UTC
Did you get to sleep
Or are you marinating
in chemicals?
The nightcap pulled
you down
dragged you
with your breath
You cut deep
Did you figure your
insides out?
You're inside out
spilling your guts
again
off-balanced
like an unstable
vivisection
Combusting your soul
back to a black hole
Counted off stars
in your eyes
you swore were aligned
Do you know what's behind?
Or will you keep looking?
Out there the truth isn't
it's all a reality
hallucinogen
generation of
self-prescribed nomads
It's about the journey
somewhere there lies
a destination
Lying about it's age again
and you can't touch it
Yet
it was here
the whole time
this very moment
and it's so
*******
beautiful
if you can get out
of your own mind.
Oct 24, 2013
Oct 24, 2013 at 3:04 PM UTC
The cat with radium eyes, drilling into my sub-terrain secrets,
Hedgehopped silently in to my camouflaged enclosure, for a nightcap, it said.
A companion of mysteries, tip-toes in to the wilderness of night
With a gentle "meow' to hunt
how fast you pulled me closer, with your claws drawn out,
Not any coy maiden, your lust, long nailed and wild,
Known you differently before, now it comes out on the open, I love you in your true colors, yes, but..
Your kisses are bloodsucking vampire feasts,
You need to feel the beast all over you, to quench the lust, from the beginning I knew(my secret)
With caterwaul crescendo we celebrated lust, I contributed in plenty at your request,
When swelled desire, did burst and waves dissipated, we went to a dopomine induced sleep,
Completely transformed, you just look like a lackluster colleague,
Unexpectedly came to visit, for a cuppa and chat (why do I feel bit let down, difficult to understand)
Jun 23, 2013
Jun 23, 2013 at 10:05 AM UTC
Obliging my son with a bottled formula nightcap
Glanced over at the cover of Rachel Ray
(My wife a fan; me……not so much)
I suspect
(at as far as marketing consultants are concerned)
There is something deeply rooted in the female psych
That says:
Total fulfillment can be summarized as holding an overlarge mug of a hot beverage in 2 hands
(never one hand – that’s business only)
sitting on your couch
feet cannot be touching the floor. tucked, preferably
Added success at life can be conveyed via a thick sweater or (for the wildly tasteless) a Snuggie.
Dec 7, 2013
Dec 7, 2013 at 9:20 PM UTC
he sipped his cigarettes
small, savoring drags
delicate but in no way effeminate
much as he sipped his whiskey
fully focused on each small intake
caressing, in his way,
the few things
he genuinely loved
Feb 20, 2010
Feb 20, 2010 at 7:09 PM UTC
in the night
all by yourself,
with some tunes
in the background
to hit you with the memories,
they all seem very real
you'd thought they
would simply disappear,
but a lot of time
has gone by since
and now here you are
where even the walls have ears,
having heard many stories
over the years
so what's it going to be tonight?
'hold my hand',
says the hour hand to the minute hand
of the wall clock,
tick tock!
as time seems to pause
and you deep dive
into the music,
lyrics and instruments
with their own
ups and downs,
yet in perfect coherence
the harmony taking you places,
feels like a nightcap
for some midnight nostalgia
coming back,
you snap out of it
as the sound waves
fade way
in distance
'well, that was a nice little adventure...
onto the next one!',
your mind goes.
Nov 27, 2020
Nov 27, 2020 at 3:51 AM UTC
The heart wants what the heart wants. The brain butts in and **** blocks our most valued, raw emotion. These feelings that could only originate from the pumping muscle in your chest that hurts after hearing tom petty or watching your favorite TV show's last episode fade away into the sunset.
In a rare scenario where a man rolls off of his lady friend and has lit his nightcap cigarette, and STILL feels the sharp pang of love despite his release, the man should ******* follow his heart, and become that cliche that 15 year old girls get wet over. Stay with that woman, I don't care if you've killed, pillaged, or ravaged, whether you deserve that pretty girl or not…you chase after her. Don't listen to you're head, you're head is what makes your **** hard. Follow your ******* heart, because I swear on my lucky cigarette that your mind (along with your **** will give out long before your heart will.
Jun 29, 2014
Jun 29, 2014 at 11:43 PM UTC
tall grass
cool this air
for sun
has bathed
fully
Jun 14, 2016
Jun 14, 2016 at 9:16 AM UTC
I walked in and took my place at the bar waiting a bit impatiently for the bartender. After a few minutes she came I order a pbr and a shot of whiskey. my shot stings going down but I take a large sip of my beer and it sooths. I talk to some people for a bit but I can't help but look for you. I glance at the barstool I know you rest and i see you. From the looks of it this may be your 5th nightcap of the evening. And I'm promised it won't be your last. We meet eyes. You gaze at me the same way I, for you. I walk over and give you an I - miss - you hug. He's familiar will thoes. We jabber on about nonsense and and laugh at the strange curly-haried man dancing in the corner. God I love his laugh. I order a few more pbrs and a couple more shots.. my whiskey curauge has me blurting out if he would like to stay with me after all has closed. He says he's usual answer. And for just a split second I wonder if my options were much better asked after he has had a couple of caps or if he would say yes regardless?.. some days I'm unaware. We leave and it's as if nothing has changed between us. The two of us walk to his place stopping for beer no less. Tipsy as we are were acting very silly skipping around, making strange noises at one another. We just go back to the two free spirited people simply infatuated with one another. And I'm flying in bliss. I sit on the bed and look at him. Memorizing his movments. He moves so beautifly so gracefully. He hands me an IPA, the way he's eyes meet mine is breathtakingly lovely. And in that moment, I could look at this handsome, complicated, loving, courageous man forever.
Sep 15, 2014
Sep 15, 2014 at 4:02 PM UTC
Even when Jodrig
fails to show
for the promised date
or comes
on the wrong day
or comes too late
Tibbles never
lets her down
he comforts
with his rough tongue
on her smooth thigh
or gazes at her
with his one good
and one closed eye
or purrs her
to happiness
even if her life’s a mess
or she depressed
he seems to know
the time to snuggle
his head against
her breast
or simply lay his paw
upon her open jaw
but when Jodrig
gets it right
and stays the night
for nightcap
or night love
then snores to sleep
Tibbles moves between
he and she
and snuggles down
where he’s meant to be.
Jun 23, 2012
Jun 23, 2012 at 2:58 AM UTC
My waves aren't crashing....
hard enough.
I need a
NIGHTCAP....
Jun 27, 2013
Jun 27, 2013 at 6:18 PM UTC
We were probably thirteen. I told
my parents I'd be bowling, borrowed
five pounds and you
did the hard part. Asking men out-
side the off-licence to help us.
I tried to make if look like we were old-
er or together but it wasn't
long before we had the bottle
or six of Bacardi Breezer. Prising
each lid off with my keys,
you picked out seats from the dusk
deserted cricket stand.
A couple through, you showed me
how to put my hand in someone's pants
as sticky alcopops slopped
round and down again. I couldn't open
our last nightcap so we stamped
its neck against a brick and doubled up.
We didn't kiss goodbye, just
staggered into swaggers step
by step across the Common.
My mouth fizzed with syrup
residue and blood from broken
glass.
May 10, 2015
May 10, 2015 at 9:26 AM UTC
The nightcap wears off.
My faded world comes in clear.
Pressed fingers tight to my temple,
help to steady the shipwrecked thoughts.
I see black spots, like blackened pieces of a once finely stitched tapestry.
Unsteady limbs claw at the heavy stench,
tipping then spilling a cup once full.
Behind stormy eyelids, lighting cracks through.
Maddening thoughts spawn, slimming the mind.
Mutant feelings bubble, distilled
ready to bottle.
If this scene had a soundtrack, the chords would howl.
The melodious truth could liquefy our yesterday smiles.
Sudden smacks from the bass come to rustle my withered petals.
Tragedy comes in many pauses.
Reach for your collar, and choke the nonsense.
Don't forget to kick the footstool,
hang the little man, guess the right letter
...it's a vowel.
The smog of the gin, has long passed.
What is left, a hammering build.
The cup once full was my solace.
Solace smells a lot like *****
From the bottom, I smile upward
To the new day, I flip the middle finger
and linger back to black.
Mar 6, 2018
Mar 6, 2018 at 7:42 PM UTC