Creative Writing - Night

Here is the second poem that I've decided to share on this blog. This is a poem that I've written very recently called 'Night'. Unlike 'Brambles' (which is the first poem I shared on this blog), I didn't feel that I needed to use any particular metre in this poem, because I felt that free verse communicated the freedom expressed in the poem far better. I wrote 'Brambles' a while ago, and since then I have studied the likes of Seamus Heaney and Owen Sheers in the classroom. Poets like these have helped me understand better that rhyme and particular metres are not necessary.

I was inspired to write it by how I find that my efficiency sometimes increases in the nighttime and how I feel that, occasionally, my writing and my inspiration to write comes more freely to me then. The poem itself was written in the night, something which hopefully reflects in the poem itself. I use light imagery and fire imagery in contrast to the darkness associated with night to try and communicate how the idea of being enlightened in a poetic sense translates into something that happens in the darkness of the nighttime and not the literal light of the daytime. That's not to say that darkness is entirely associated with night; the light of the moon is something I appreciate as well, and I have written poetry about this in the past also.

Night

It's all at night when the true magic happens.

When the rays of light wobble and bounce off each other, bundling, forming, creating.

When the flames form and lick at the heels of Destiny.

When streams of light ignite the fight, fuel the might, singe the fright.

When pulsating forms of pure passion speak tongues and scream ideas to the solemn spirit.

When the grinding gears stop, think, and are then blinded by fits of flames, bursts of bewilderment.

When empty castles stand, flaming, stones heated up with the fires of displaced ferociousness.

When the very being strives to drive closer to complete itself, a fire for the extinguishing of the most undesirable flame ever.

When perceptions prescribe portions of power to particular people.

When the icy depths of that which is claimed thaws under its own sudden heat and dances under the moonlight through the window, careful not to wake all that is outside.

When the mind bubbles with its own juices, inspiration kindles the flame of its own creation and the light of day is allowed on at night.

It's all at night when the true magic happens.