The Night The Poems Came Out To Play

I told the poems to go away. To play outside and kill some time.
They shouted rhymes and phrases, pulling off the cloak of sleep
Hankering, hungry for attention in the mid-night hour.

I told the poems come again, today is not the time.
If you must know I need sleep and you must get some too.
They huddled around the mind’s blank page and
Staged a sort of coup.

To keep me wide awake at night, playing poetry in my dreams.
The day is yours the night is mine
I tell them rather sweetly
Tomorrow we will write and play, you may not disturb my sleep.

It’s not that I am ungrateful
That you want to be with me at night.
Your lines and rhymes are truly keen
Just hold them over till the light of day. My pen, my mind, my soul needs sleep.

I told them that tomorrow would work well for me
Promised I’d be fresh and playful then,
That if they could just hold that thought
We’d have the light of day in which to play
With words and poetry.

But now it is the day all new, the sun is up and shining
And trouble looms and roars and howls
The cares and troubles crouch and wait
I wish my poetry’d come back
The ideas from the night.

Where laughter, rhyme and whimsy
Were there to calm the storm
And art was there to ease the pain, apply the balm
To all that thunder in my day.

So if you come back again tonight
I promise that I’ll play.
I’ll grab my pen and write you down
I’ll thank you for your playfulness and all you did
To ease my worried mind.

If I could write my nighttime cast of characters for my dreams
I’d invite, you every time
To be with me while I  sleep,
Resting peaceful, patient, by my side
A companion in the rocky night, a safe harbor in the thundrous storms of life,

Sweet Poetry,

Now good night.

Joining Heather for Just Write.