Poets United Midweek Motif ~ Night

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                                             Midweek Motif ~ Night

It is strange how night erases day slowly and makes its appearance in dark attire with sprinkles of light all over, lending a mystery to it. This phenomenon had always attracted creative minds and been expressed in words, lines,colors and forms.

Is night all about darkness I really wonder. Is there a glimmer of hope too?

In this context I could not but quote a few lines from Henry David Thoreau's essay "Night and Moonlight": How insupportable would be the days if the night with its dew and darkness did not come to restore the drooping world. As the shades begin to gather around us, our primeval instincts are aroused, and we steal forth from our lairs, like the inhabitants of the jungle, in search of those silent and brooding thoughts which are the natural prey of the intellect.

To quote Vincent Van Gogh: I often think that night is more alive and more richly colored than day.

And Walt Whitman: To me every hour of the day and night is an unspeakably perfect miracle.

I am also including here a few poems to inspire you for today's theme , Night:

Abraham Lincoln Walks At Midnight

by Nicholas Vachel Lindsay

It is portentous, and a thing of state

That here at midnight, in our little town

A mourning figure walks, and will not rest,

Near the old court-house pacing up and down.

Or by his homestead, or in shadowed yards

He lingers where his children used to play,

Or through the market, on the well worn stones

He stalks until the dawn-stars burn away.

A bronzed, lank man! His suit of ancient black,

A famous high top-hat and plain worn shawl

Make him the quaint great figure that men love,

The prairie-lawyer, master of us all.

                                             (The rest is here)

Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night

by Dylan Thomas

Do not go gentle into that good night,

Old age should burn and rave at close of day;

Rage, rage against the dying of light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,

Because their words had forked no lightning they

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright

Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,

Rage, rage against the dying of light.

                                           (The rest is here)

Meeting At Night

by Robert Browning

l.

The grey sea and the long black land;

And the yellow half moon large and low;

And the startled little waves that leap

In fiery ringlets from their sleep,

As I gain the cove with pushing prow,

And quench its speed i' the slushy sand.

ll.

Then a mile of warm sea-scented beach;

Three fields to cross till a farm appears;

A tap at the pane, the quick sharp scratch

And blue spurt of a lighted match,

And a voice less loud, thro' its joys and fears,

Than the two hearts beating each to each!

Please share your new poem using Mr. Linky below and visit others in the spirit of the community.

                  (Next week Susan's Midweek Motif will be ~ Power)