Linda Studley

Can't Put the Pen Down…

Archive for the tag “dark”

15 Nov 2015

Dark Thoughts

Sitting in the dark,
dotted with little red, yellow, blue, and green lights
from small appliances, computers, rechargers,
and the digital clock on the stove.
Sitting in the dark,
in the glow of the computer screen.
So, technically, not really in the dark at all.
In the semi-dark, quasi-dark, pseudo-dark;
the dark that’s too dark to do anything
but type but too bright to sleep.
So I sit and I type about the almost dark and wonder
why I’m awake at four in the morning.
Sitting in the dark.

#124

Posted in A New Poem Every Morning #2, Poetry, writing and tagged , , , , | Leave a comment
06 Nov 2015
5 Comments

Nature’s Song of Light and Dark

Darkness drains between the branches,
spills across the forest floor,
hides in shade of crumbling logs
left from trees that went before.
Hides in shadowed nooks and crannies
hidden on the forest floor.

Brightly singing sunshine rises
pushes darkness farther back
hounding shadows into hiding
into deepest, darkest cracks,
as if day were in denial
that the night could e’re come back.

But soon enough the song will change
as sunshine slides away to sleep
and the shadows all unwind
to begin their upward sweep.
Cooling breath that sings the scales
from earth to sky in upward sweep.

Night to day and night again
the endless dance continues on,
and though our brains try to ignore it,
hearts beat out the ancient song.
Long to dance in light and shadow,
Long to beat to nature’s song.

#115

Posted in A New Poem Every Morning #2, Poetry, Writings and tagged , , , ,
18 Nov 2012

The Dark Before the Dawn

In the dark before the dawn
when all things merge to black and grey
I wonder what would happen if
one morning they just stayed that way.

If the light lost all its power
to refract the spectrum’s hues
and everything stayed black and white
no reds or yellows, greens or blues.

Like I thought the world once was
before colour photography
when I was small and leafing through
old photos of my family

In rickety photo albums filled
with relatives, all long gone.
Grey smiles, grey clothes, grey sunsets
that turn to dark before the dawn,

where all things merge to black and grey
before the lights turn on.

#330

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