Thoughts in Sprout

Tuned to the music of the night, my ears
For a fear not I have this evening
The crickets chirp their cheers
My dear, how I feel my chest heaving

Never a breath can I catch
To take in a beautiful night like this
Never shall I know how to fetch
A word or thought to describe this bliss

How dreary I feel from business
What a dread, the suburban life
Oh what a shame I feel with my weakness
Not able to carry on in this endless strife

Contained in me are many a sporadic thought
They pour from my fingers like a spout
Against my thinking will they've fought
But now, resurfacing and they sprout

Poetical Nocturnal Ponderings

Oh, it's a poetry kind of night. A coffee drinking night to induce creativity in my nocturnal mind. Another one of those nights I wish I could run through the woods, and light a bonfire in the middle of it, and sit around it with others who are as enthused with poetry and creative as I am, and proceed to recite multiple works...both written and original. Just another romantic idea I have every now and then....


I can relate to E. A. Poe about the night...

"Evening Star"

'Twas noontide of summer,
And mid-time of night;
And stars, in their orbits,
Shone pale, thro' the light
Of the brighter, cold moon
'Mid planets her slaves,
Herself in the Heavens,
Her beam on the waves.
I gazed awhile
On her cold smile;
Too cold- too cold for me-
There pass'd, as a shroud,
A fleecy cloud,
And I turned away to thee,
Proud Evening Star,
In thy glory afar,
And dearer thy beam shall be;
For joy to my heart
Is the proud part
Thou bearest in Heaven at night,
And more I admire
Thy distant fire,
Than that colder, lowly light.

Reminds me of something I wrote quite a while ago.

"I Once Was a Star"


I breathed in the distilled nocturnal air, softly but ceaslessly. 
Can the night get louder? Can I breathe it in deeper?
I faced my palms upward to my face. The palms that perspired when this feeling came.
The nostalgia, the melancholy, and at the same time, prospective and felicity.
I searched the endless night sky, dotted with somber stars.
Why does the sky hide them in the day?
Shouldn't the sun reveal more of the universe?
Instead the blue hue hides the beauty. 
But the night doesn't give it  justice either.
 It presents mere freckles to our preception.
How much farther can we be?
The distant stars are seen to us as sparks,
 and we're just another one of those sparks.
The planets and the stars must look at us and call us freckles.

Maybe some stars shine brighter than others because they want to be wished on.
Maybe the ones that shoot are envied.
Maybe they want to be named.
Maybe they want to be planets.
Maybe they want to be considered apart of a constellation.
Maybe they join alliances to make them.

Do they desire to look down at the northern hemisphere or at the southern one?
Do they search for us or do we search for them?
Do they twinkle in our eyes, or do we twinkle in theirs?
Do they dance above us when we dance under them?

These questions made my heart itch, so I decided I'd be among them tonight.
I stared hard into the universe, and pictured me among them.
And so I was. I was a star. I looked down at the swirling clouds 
in  the atmosphere, and I saw the blue hue of the ocean,
and I saw the  greens of the land.
I looked to the other stars,
and they smiled brightly and welcomed  me with a faint twinkling,
and I twinkled back, matching their tone, to  thank them.
They focused their glow back to the earth, in a subtle wish.
I heard one make a low pitched, "ding" which came off to me as a  sigh.
 It spoke in a language made up of swishing, and clocking, and a
 slight ting at the same time. I recognized it immediately what it said.
"You were so lucky to be down there. If I lived down there,
 I  wouldn't trade it for anything. Yes we might have a
 beautiful view up  here, and we might shine beauty on the earth, 
but we merely look down on  the earth and wish we were there,
 while people wish on us. We could  grant their wishes in a heartbeat,
 but then we wish we had a heartbeat. A  constant, flowing rhythm of life.
"That's why were reluctant to grant wishes. For once, we'd like our  wishes
 to come true. Scarcely does a humble wisher come to us. 
Most are  greedy with their wishes. 
All they seem to desire is some wacko kid to  hinder the gentle
 rhythm of their beating hearts. Is everyone down there  really that ignorant?
 Or do we miss the wishes of the ones with sense?"
During this speech, the rest of the stars thonked, and clicked, and botted in grief.
It was all true, I realized. But these stars had an important role in making dreams
come true.
I knew I had to lift their spirits, so I made my own noises of  encouragement,
 "But who are you to complain? Yes, you might not be down  there, but trust me,
 you aren't missing much. You think your spirits are  low up here? Every heart
 down there is breaking. No tears are  evaporating, and each day they come more
 consistently. We take for  granted the beauty around us, and we are and have been
 ruining it no  doubt. If you look down on them for ruining that beauty, are you
 going  to sit up here and do the same? You are apart of what makes up the  beauty,
 and how amazingly beautiful you all can be here if you jumped  out of your somber
 state. You guys have an important role in your  beauty. Maybe if you shined bright
 enough, and danced enough, it would  help them down there to realize how there is
 still hope. You guys can  easily give that hope by simply letting go of your envy 
for us. You can  save the beauty."
There was a moment of still silence, then the stars brightened and  there was
 a chorus of noises and movements from them. They tanged, they  hummed, and
 they clopped. It was how they made applause, apparently. The  star that had spoke
 to me said,
"You speak truth. We feel much admired and important. We are  ourselves.
 We are our purpose. You go be yourself again, and you be your  purpose.
 We will shine bright at you, and will grant you any wishes you  please, 
and you shall restore the beauty neglected and thrashed upon  down there.
 Acknowledge our power, thoughtful one."
"But I must know your name to call on you in need."
"Yes, indeed. You may call me Polaris. I will be your faithful wish-bearer."
With that I gave a last twinkling smile, and I focused onto the  green terrain
 that I came from. I imagined myself in the same spot I  looked up from, and I was
 there again.
I looked up to the sky again, and it shone brighter, and was more  lively.
 It was a dark blue canvas painted with billions of glittering  diamonds. 
 Polaris was the brightest, and he winked at me, and I winked  back.
I could still faintly hear their voices echo in my ears.
"Now would you look at them now. So potent. So inspirational. They  will make 
good use of their wishes, and I will grant them with  compassion."

Story Book

A story book, I hold to my face
Such adventures I see
The pages, my fingers trace
Oh how they relate to me

A smile twitches its way
Through the memories past
My reality is this day
But it will not last

Those moments were mine
Until they slowly started to fade
How I wish to turn back time
And back through those memories I'd wade

But they've formed who I am now
Made sweet impressions on my heart
And without them I don't know how
I could go on and not fall apart

This is my story book
It makes me feel alive
And when I take a look
Once again, I can thrive