NaPoWriMo 17 – Nocturne

We have lost the very last of the light
Seeped from the edge of the sky at last
But, see, the stars are so very bright

We’re not quite ready to say goodnight
And the wine has grown darker in my glass –
We have lost the very last of the light.

The moths are foolish, they feel no fright,
As the candle lures them in at last,
When, see, the stars are so very bright.

There are rustlings happening out of sight,
Perhaps a fox, swift stalking past,
We have lost the very last of the light

Now the moon is rising, a sliver of white,
A lantern hung on a midnight mast,
And see, the stars are so very bright.

We sat and talked, and laughed all night –
Hard to believe how quickly it passed –
We have lost the very last of the light,
But, see, the stars are so very bright.

City house – for dVerse.

I will weave walls out of grey smoke

and bright mirrored neon

fallen shattered in puddles,

and all the windows

will look out over the  lights

that net the city. We will look down

from our high place

and drink the nightclub rhythm

from glasses that reflect

shop window glitter. Night will curl

in the corner like a stray cat,

and the ceiling will be saffroned

by streetlamps.

Dawn will come calling

before we sleep, and our

lullaby will be the clank

of delivery vans, and the footsteps

of early risers.


Another one for dVerse. I’m living in the country, so of course I dream of the city. 

Stars, night, water – for Jane Dougherty

The moon reaches down and she kisses the face of the water,
And stars shimmer clear in the indigo depths of the lake.
My heart is an owl that’s as silent as midnight in winter,
I am waiting to wrap you in moonlight and starlight and dark

My heart’s a wild hare that runs swift down the lane in the moonlight,
And I long for the touch of your eyes and the kiss of your skin.
And the sky is a tent that is hung round with velvet and diamonds,
And the meadow is softer than pillows and sweeter than sin.

The fox walks the night in a whisper of hunter and hunted,
The moths fly like ghosts of their sisters who dance in the sun
The night holds the sound of your steps as you walk down the garden,
I am waiting, my heart is a flame that is burning within.


This was written for Jane Dougherty’s poetry challenge. She’s looking for metre. These seem like terribly long lines to me, but when I read them out loud I can definitely hear the rhythm there, which is what I was after.