Said the Night Owl to the Morning Bird

I’m a night owl. Something about the sinking sun inspires me, and my mind just won’t shut down. My best ideas happen when others sleep, and on occasion, I find myself falling asleep as I should be rising to face the day’s responsibilities. I’m also a writer, as you may have guessed, and although I normally exercise my prose prowess, occasionally, I venture into the world of poetry. This little poem dedicated to the night owls of the world demonstrates a favorite style–I am fully aware that it’s a mourning dove and not a morning bird, by the way. The pun is intended.

Although I love most forms of poetry, I enjoy emulating our beloved Shakespeare. His word choices and rhythms mesmerize me, so as often as possible, I like to play with his style. Absent verbs force readers to fill in the blanks and translate; anything worth having is worth the effort to get it, and poetry comprehension is no different.

Here’s a taste of what my poetry students live through…

 

Said the Night Owl to the Morning Bird

original poem by Ruth Ann Frederick

 

Upon sinking sun mine intellect summons

all manner of inspiration and ambition.

Whilst others slumber restless mind runs

bring lofty goals to fruition.

Tomes grow through parchment writ upon

when mortal body should horizontal position.

Hark through broken dawn pink hue won

and subtle chortle awaken my condition.

Long battle hath mind lost with sleep bygone

and mourning dove doth hasten this transition.

Loath, loath wakening has my soul undone

at length yonder window close upon submission.

Bleary, blinking, eyes set on hours now gone

wasted slumber never again for possession.

Leave thou haunting chuckle from tree at dawn

and haste the evening repose now my mission.

In mourning, soul harken to haunt now drawn

from morning dove in sour admonition.

Sleep sad soul, for now time has come

for rest and slumber’s sweet submission.

 

…and that’s the view from My Front Porch.