Best After Midnight Poems

(saw a mistake with a rhyme and just now revised this)

I’m on a Greyhound bus – six hours till dawn
It’s late and dark. I think that I must be
the only passenger whose light is on.
I’ll keep that tiny light trained down on me
because I want to write some poetry!

Are people sleeping on this late night...

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CHERRY BLOSSOMS AFTER MIDNIGHT

his sweet voice, I savor
i shake off the shivers of December
his cordial words warm me
i adjust the heat, grab another blanket
the vibration of his vocal cords
similitude of a lover’s lullaby
the sea so gentle, the silver moon
i’m lulled to sleep by his cherry blossom lips

12/19/2018
A Succinct Treat Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Michelle Faulkner...

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Finally, the hectic day is over,
and all I want to do is sleep.
But, as soon as my head hits the pillow
that voice of inspiration comes to me in the darkness.

Brilliant words flow to me from out of nowhere.
And as I have learned before,
if I don't write these lines down now,
they will be gone by morning.
No...

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I just need to get some sleep,
As I lay here beneath my quilt,
Yet, I know these words will not keep,
By morning they will die and wilt.

Turning on my lamp, hurts my eyes,
As I sit up in my warm bed,
No matter how hard it tries,
The lines won't remain in my head.

The clock says it's after midnight,
But,...

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YELLOW IS THE SUN IN THE SKYLINE after Midnight- -

Once upon a midnight flat;
It was matte, imagined that!
'It's that even,' I muttered;
Yellow as sun and butter;
…..a rainbow of mystic skies;
Beautiful site between the eyes;
Passions liken a blonde celandine;
Bright byzantine, lupine, and benign!
Solar capsicum minds the incline;
~Yellow sun shines the skyline;~ 


3/30/19

10 Lines, 5 Words:
 Rhyme...

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There's a time of night that's heading towards morn
often I find my creative side born.
Beautiful images cascade around me;
worldly depictions of life that astound me.

Maybe I'll stare out my window and think;
perhaps gaze up at the stars that wink.
Be a weaver of dreams with my mindful loom
in the quiet realm of my peaceful room.

The longings...

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Raina, who lives next door,
is always tending
her garden after midnight, sipping
milagro straight from the bottle.

Once I watched her from my window, 
as she cut out weeds 
and thumbed her flowers sans glove,
bottle in hand and smiling hard,
like a woman in love.
I asked her why. 

She answered without looking up,
that darkness was her thing,
and wise ones...

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Scores of white lilies bloom - slicing night air
with a deadly perfume.
Nostrils flicker and consume
scented ghosts haunting the room....

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Wide Awake At Two Plus Hours After Midnight...
(actually, now at present time juiced 
well nigh high noon same day)

On this January nineteenth
tooth thousand and nineteen
dogged by an earlier notion
searching soul to glean,
(while at Collegeville Diner)
above place previously wrought 
poem hammered from this peon
expounded possibly seen,

asper belated birthday
outing now I mean
to expound upon nagging, yet keen
existential...

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Methinks resurgence of wakefulness
after bewitching hour i.e. midnight
quickly dissipating before dawn
quasi baptism regarding
preternatural soulful immersion
amidst spiritus mundi

foretaste awaiting expiration
regarding corporeal being
yours truly approaching mortality,
despite atheistic predilections
mine consciousness anointed
amist pantheon renown authors

analogous to dead poet society
ephemerally, fleetingly, gloriously
rejuvenated injecting inspiration
channeling, kindling, tindering
divine ethereal effervescence
allowing, enabling, proffering

exquisite jubilant outlook,
albeit phenomenal, quintessential, surreal
flash dancing unbelievable arabesque
spellbinding one garden...

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Shards of lambent moonlight drift across crumpled charcoal sky, 
gleaming snow clad laneways flaunt ancient ghostly footprint, 
dream world boisterous cabals lurk in blue ink shadows,
glow worm street lights peer o’er nocturnal hour hush, 
swirling toll of dulcet midnight bells defrost black ice veil,
mud stained slush from madcap drivers spray giggling sweethearts...

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Where Upper West and East Side ended in sounds
Showing me the way where the female singer Carolina and I
Together shall meet the Law of Natural was translated
Into glorious flesh and in fire all 
My body and tears emerged in the flow.

Till the vigilant noon
Took us away since we could swiftly
Speeding through the floating water. 
I...

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It's midnight, another long, lonely day is through
so tired yet wide awake, missing her as I do
In the dark I just toss and turn, waiting to find sleep
Time passes by so slowly when loves wounds cut in so deep
At one am shaking hands light another cigarette
into the darkness I can only sit and stare
crush out...

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When death sent out its calling card 
the heavens came in view
Psalms to reach the Angel’s ears
one voice had broken through
Grace within her every word
each feeling soul infused
Patsy singing from above
—to bless the chosen few

(Remembering Patsy Cline: May, 2022)...

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A day like any other day rings out midnight again
On the muffled peals hammered out loud by bells
Not heard over the thunderous storms performance
Simultaneously taking place outside the madness

The Saint Frankenstein non-denominational church is cursed
As the bells toll their cruel rings heard over the silent screams
Every time a priest jumps from the high tower by...

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