"nightowl" poems
April...my early sonnets...leaning on the windowsill as the streets were mad rivers, Mum in bed just behind me--ya, I've long been the nightowl, though how many times I'd hang out with her when I did.
(sonnet #MMMMMMCCLXVIII)
Ah, silver gloaming whose soft light is thence
More yellow than wee baby leaves' detail
Of green chartreuse as rain now waltzes, pale
Yet with that subtler voice in tow, lawns hence
Thick carpets laid out 'gainst grey racks a sense
Of pink like fragile mists haunts to avail,
These naked boughs in lingerie black's scale
Just tinges, April clothed ere nightfall, whence?
O me! The blacktop sports thin puddles fer
A touch of wet, and Friday's hallowed to
Some, good cuz dunno why, as we talk. Were
It taxes or the missiles elsewhere, who
Shall--what? I listen, laugh, want Andrew, poor
As saying is, and recall Mum: all we knew.
14Apr17c
Apr 15, 2017
Apr 15, 2017 at 1:20 AM UTC
\\\ //
\\\ \\ // //
\\\\\\\ \\ // /////
\\\\\\ all night long ////
I've tossed and turned
been ((●)) sad and ((●)) blue
the candle's \\\/// burned/just
because I'm here alone/and
there's nobody on the phone
please, my love, come here
to me/by your side's where I
should be/can you help me? do you
care? please don't give me that blank
stare/I'm not just blue, I'm also bored
twisting up the telephone cord/please
my love, it's almost dawn/all you do is
blink and yawn/are you tired of me
now? If I can change, please show
me how! there are no stars in
your eyes/you lost the love
there's no disguise
■■■■■■■■■((■■■■■■))■■■■■■■■■
there's no disguise
I've lost you now
I want you back
I don't know how
I'd be good/forever
true/ don't give me
that. you know "who!"
SoulSurvivor
(C) 12/16/2015
Dec 16, 2015
Dec 16, 2015 at 6:47 AM UTC
Lay down, close your eyes, dont make a peep, count sheep until you fall asleep. But what if you don't? You toss and turn left and right and get up with the same thoughts you lay with. Wondering why do I think of the most random things, the most frightening things when all day they don't cross paths?
Could all the souls of the sleepless feel the burdens of one another?
Could the stirs we have in our beds be the thoughts of one who thinks as me? Thoughts that go in flight into the night and descend into the mind of one who can relate the most?
And when the lids get heavy and the tossing and turning ceases, could these nightowl's company be what makes us peaceful?
Apr 21, 2015
Apr 21, 2015 at 1:37 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
Death comes a child
suckled on the breast.
A nightowl's call...
a weighted chest.
Death comes a jester.
How he cavorts!
Kings and Queens will
share his court.
They jeer his antics!
They do... for now.
But in the end
*THEY ALL SHALL BOW.*
SøułSurvivør
(C) 5/28/2017
May 31, 2017
May 31, 2017 at 3:32 AM UTC