Sally Eslinger Poet Prose Poetry

Night To Morning

Night…to Morning
————————————-
Very often, 
my night hours
Keep awake,
Keep their occurrence
Until morning’s rise,
Keep their words 
Under darkness…and
Their poems wait,
Disregarding
Inspiration from
The luminant moon
In favor of the sun’s 
    birthing day.
I keep my sleep’s 
    dreams abloom 
In the acres of 
    gently waving,
 Vibrant yellow,  
Billions of sunflower
Petals
Opened to extend
    their beauty into the
Summer’s minuets —
Moving silhouettes —
Along the horizon…
So, so clear, even
To these sleepy eyes,
Through these 
    glistening tears.

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(c) sally young Eslinger 9/8/21
Thanks be to God

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Howard Kerr September 28, 2021 at 3:00 PM Hi Sally, Super reflections on the creative process and how they are governed by one’s response to night and day passage and those things we associate with them. This poem has an enduring quality. Warm wishes Howard Sally Eslinger September 29, 2021 at 7:36 PM Hi, Howard…thank you for your appreciated comment. I’m one of the low self esteem poets who likes to know my words draw some response. I think that’s amplified as we tend to think we are what we do as in “I am a poet.” Knowing how the creative process stirs us is a reason gathering for fellowship at PSoup helps. My sincere good wishes, sall

Michael Mc Dermott September 25, 2021 at 10:45 AM This poetic writing starts with the consideration that the night hours' poems are being withheld. Maybe annoyed, the poetess still has the comfort of positive dreams to support her when tears appear. It seems that at night we struggle between celebration and fending off imaginary worries. Well done Sally. Sally Eslinger September 25, 2021 at 11:02 PM Michael, glad you stopped by to read and give some interesting explanatory comments I want to think about. Thank you for your thoughts. I believe Poems are living things, not like dragonflies but like feelings. So it can get quite complicated… take care!

Joseph P. DiMino September 13, 2021 at 10:40 AM Tears of joy...tears of sorrow...each a waking mystery in themselves -- sometimes I am lost between the splashes, resting within co-mingling puddles -- it is the dichotomy of pain and happiness soaked with one another...closely examining the other's face...until the morning light. Then it is to our business of writing. Great read! Sally Eslinger September 25, 2021 at 11:09 PM Joe, once again I find that your comment is itself a written poem just as it is written. So liked reading it and provoked some notes I will look into. Thanks. Take care! I