Night Spilled Upon Me

Posted on Jul 29th, 2007 by

night pooled
night spilled upon me
night stained me, with inky coolness
night left me limp, and quivering
night promised to be long

for I’ve puzzled
and I’ve doubted
I’ve had questions
I’ve had answers
I’ve let poetry scream, cry or sing for me
when my heart was out of tune

so
I wait
if I can wait now
I will drip down
in my dreaming
feel the painful shaking, quelling
if I’m very very still

drink me up
leave me empty
take a paintbrush
dipped in silence

blot out daylight
blot out vision
lost in nighttime I will be

©2007 C. L. B. Callender

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Tagged with: poem, poetry, poet, night, darkness, ink, sleep, rest, pause, fatigue, not-knowing

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2 months later

Doug said

I really like this one Catherine, this is like my third read and was hoping to have something intelligent to say. I guess it’s just the simple fact that I relate to art as a place to share things that have no other place to go. Inky nights are nice too.

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2 months later

Catherine said

yes… I like that… art is how to share those things that course in the veins but that evaporate on contact with the “literal” (prosey) world!

And, this is one of my personal favorites, so I am glad you like it :-)

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