Can night poetry have sunshine? If you’re Emily Dickinson, you might find a way to mix dark and light by speaking symbolically.
There is Another Sky
There is another sky,
Ever serene and fair,
And there is another sunshine,
Though it be darkness there;
Never mind faded forests, Austin,
Never mind silent fields –
Here is a little forest,
Whose leaf is ever green;
Here is a brighter garden,
Where not a frost has been;
In its unfading flowers
I hear the bright bee hum:
Prithee, my brother,
Into my garden come!
—Emily Dickinson
Poetry Prompt
Write a poem that plays with the dark by virtue of a symbol. Invite a friend, family member, or lover to enter into the symbol with you, the way Emily invites her brother Austin into her dark-light “garden.” The fun of symbols is that no one can be entirely sure what is meant, although people can certainly have their hunches!
Thanks to our participants in last week’s poetry prompt. Here’s a villanelle poem we enjoyed from Richard…
I Am Not One Who Fears the Night
I am not one who fears the night;
It is in darkness I began;
It hones the edges of my sight.
I’m told it is the ghouls delight;
and though I’ve walked there in the rain,
I am not one who fears the night.
How well its sable scrim makes bright
The stars in the empyrean.
It hones the edges of my sight,
To find the silent night bird’s flight.
Though wild thoughts run as wild thoughts can,
I am not one who fears the night.
Its muted hues inspire in spite
of days advantage, days bright span.
It hones the edges of my sight.
What evening gives me I ghostwrite,
Moon’s midnight lake, the owl’s wingspan.
I am not one who fears the night.
It hones the edges of my sight.
Photo by therealmikeyboy, Creative Commons, via Flickr.
______
Sometimes we feature your poems in Every Day Poems, with your permission of course. Thanks for writing with us!
Browse poets and poems
Browse more villanelle poems
Browse night poems
- Poetry Prompt: Gathering Flowers - June 16, 2025
- Poetry Prompt: The Phoenix - May 26, 2025
- 10 Ways to Help Your Favorite Introverted Author: 1,000 Words - May 23, 2025
Maureen Doallas says
Clearing Fog
We manage in the fog,
each looking
for the other’s heart.
But out there,
somewhere between us,
the old dark words
still hang. Please
don’t wait till sunrise,
Love, to rub a circle
clear, to let in
your once-bright light
through my window.
Richard Maxson says
Maureen, I love the way this forces the reader to read it slowly to accentuate the waiting you allude to. The line ending and sentence beginning, “Please” is perfect poetry in so many ways.
Maureen Doallas says
Thank you so much, Richard.
Richard Maxson says
A Kind of Sleep
Dreamlessness is the shadows passing noiselessly
from trees, on tiptoes across the grass, past the window.
Here, between two worlds, the pearl turns on its chain,
becomes the bluish moon that waits through the day,
to soon find its place on the black neck of starless evening.
Of what do you not dream, when you do not dream?
Distance says night is where we live, and light
leaves its unraveling at the end, like seasons
on the lawn, or enough to keep the attic
alive with the pulse of things struggling in fresh webs;
I hide here among forgotten patches, the quilting frame,
with its labyrinth of ties, shirts and dresses, triangles
and squares holding fast to their distinctions, though cut
and sorted in their places; I seek to understand the story
of our life in this house, from the past hung on its bones,
in dark exhibits: lightless lanterns with withered wicks,
empty packs and creels and placeless, faceless frames—
the only voice, a groan of years finally pushing grain across a nail.
And in the darkest corners, along the flooring rail, I know there
runs the grit of hairs that never needed light to find their way.
Maureen Doallas says
Beautiful, sensual imagery, especially “black neck of starless evening”; many lovely lines, such as “the pulse of things struggling in fresh webs”.
I feel myself quieting as I read this poem, where something deep below the surface is at work.
Richard Maxson says
Thanks for acknowledging my villanelle. I appreciate it.
lynndiane says
Dance Recital
Bright sliver of moon
in rosy sky at dusk
gleams sideways smile,
poised, waiting…
grinning confidently
as tired old sun
burns down slowly,
limps below dark edge
of corn rows’ silhouette stage.
Day’s number is done…
time for moonlight’s moves!
Richard Maxson says
I’m reminded of the Cheshire Cat with your moon. I too like the last line.
Maureen Doallas says
Your image of a “sliver of moon . . . grinning confidently” is charming. Excellent concluding line.
lynndiane says
Thank you, Maureen! Grateful for a forum where I can mingle with (and learn from) poets extraordinaire, like you… Richard too.