A midnight poet,
I sneak into raven
nights when they
give in to bottomless
slumbers , I see what
they turn a blind eye.
I endure much more than
what fall in my share.
I burn midnight oil to
weave sepia colored
webs of words in the
sooty corners of my
imaginary castles .
An undertaker I dig up
the icy pains from my
grey gravish heart.
You accuse me of taking
imaginary flights but
my only fault lies in the
annoying habit to feel more and
understand a little.
Yes I am emaciated and cold,
so I sew every night the cozy
blanket of my words to keep me
warm, the characters I
embroider stay awake to
keep the loneliness at bay
I am the midnight poet.
Excellent poem.❤
I generally do most of my writing in the hour leading up to midnight.
Thanks Drac, i do prefer writing in the stillness of night, my creativity is at best during midnight.
completely agree
Thanks a lot, truly appreciate it.
By midnight I’m fast asleep. It’s the early morning hours for me, very quiet.
Have I told you how much I love your writing Tanya? Happy you’re back.
Dearest Eddie, I wish I was a morning person but I am a night owl. I do everything at night, that’s when I am most creative. I am glad your like my writing, I am literally on cloud 9, thank you so much for he kind words. Take Care.
Thank you for sharing Tanya
🙏💐
Very nice! Love these lines….
Yes I am emaciated and cold,
so I sew every night the cozy
blanket of my words to keep me
warm
I’m glad you liked the poem, truly appreciate it. Regards
Uff that annoying habit to feel more and understand a little. I guess, I am right on this track. I can relate to it. Those midnight chaos of thoughts and words and a composition creates a terrible tragedy but beautiful to read. Nice one Tanya. 👍😍🙌
Excellently written!
Thanks a lot for your kind words, truly appreciate it. Regards.
You’re welcome!