It is a long time since I shared one of my poems on here, but I am back with another one and I am excited to share it with you all.
For the last three months or so, I have started writing poems more frequently as I think they are my best outlet for creative writing. I have attempted stories and potential novels, but I still think they are a weak point of mine and although I am not ruling out exploring novel writing again, for now I have chosen to prioritise a poetry collection.
In the collection, I am aiming for most of the poems to capture the atmosphere of a particular setting or scenario, or reflect certain things within contemporary life. But of course, I can never resist a poem about books!
Here is a poem I wrote about the state of reading at night and how it can be oh-so-tempting to read on despite it being ridiculously late and with tiredness all too apparent. I really hope you like it!
Reading At Night
The clock strikes three and the candle is dim
Flickering tamely against the intense night sky
The book in my hands is a darkening silhouette
But I vow to go on until the light truly dies
I pay no thought to the sand that falls
Or the blood pressure rising up to my eyes
Nature may politely ask me to cave in
But this will never be over until I decide
I fight tooth and nail to resist the pull
Of my eyelids which refuse to remain open and alert
The pages feel light in my smouldering hands
But then again, one more chapter will not hurt
In the morning I will pay the price
It will feel like I am at death’s door
Yet right now that is a secondary thought
For this special story shall always matter more
Did you like this poem? I would love to know what you think. Let me know in the comments!