Day is done, the weary trope
lingers yet the bawdy sun
o’er sea, o’er realm
may all love survive
may all peace abide
may all night be still
in prayer till dark
is lit once more by morn
the sun awake with fire
and all woes on wind
are borne across worn skies
seeking the light of day
Night is nigh, the common sleep
‘neath stars in woolen sky
cosmos reels beyond human sight
here we blindly look up
my hand reaching yours
your shadow touching mine
our blood jumping gates
our skin tingling hymns
our throats clutching sighs
hearts grasping for arrows
backs bent like willow bows
yearning for dark to fall anew
And now again, day is done
Just a thought 66
Sunrise image courtesy Pixabay
Sharon Bonin-Pratt's Ink Flare 
Comments on: "Day is Done" (23)
Rich thought, Shari. These are all the reasons night is wonderful.
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And day as well. Thanks for reading, Jacqui.
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And the cycle continues. Beautiful poetry, Sharon.
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Thank you, Jenna.
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A beautiful poem to go with that beautiful sunset!
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Thank you, Terri. I can only take credit for the poem.
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Another beautiful poem! I agree with commenters in your previous post that you need to publish a collection of your poetry in book form.
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Your encouraging support makes me think that maybe I could do this. We’ll see.
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Please keep me posted if/when you do! I’d definitely buy a copy. 🙂
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You will know, I promise – and thanks for the pre-order. 😀
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Love this. I don’t know how much of this is simply me reading stuff into it, which is okay by my standards–I love art as an intersection between the viewer and the writer/artist. But you never know if that actually conforms to the writer’s intent.
So, that disclaimer aside, what I got out of this was mostly a series of feelings, which is really a testimony to your skill. It’s difficult to make people feel things when you can’t even talk to them and have all the things like body language going for you.
So, the first thing I got was a real sense of wistfulness, a hope that what is good in our world will survive. I don’t know if that’s an age or maturity thing, but I’ve become less confident that we won’t muck things up entirely, beyond repair, so that resonated with me.
And then you have your protag reaching out, trying to bridge that gap between what is and what should be. And then you have the cycle of day and night, of picking yourself up and doing it all over again each day.
So, maybe none of that was your intent. But that’s what I got out of this piece, and I thought it was brilliant.
Please publish. You’ll have to moderate your expectations for this type of material, since this stuff is hardly Twilight or Harry Potter. But I think there may be people who need to read your work. 🙂
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I really appreciate your thoughtful analysis, Cathleen, and that you spent time writing such heartfelt encouragement. You are right about my perception of the gap between expectation and reality, that the world continues despite our worries.
I’ve never considered myself a poet and I wasn’t even sure I would post this one. In addition, this one received limited reading and very few comments, so I felt I’d failed and shouldn’t have posted it after all. I guess a poem has to find its audience. This one found you, and you made me feel better about it. A sincere thank you.
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Poetry simply has a small audience. You’re looking for people who get intoxicated over the cadence and flavor of words.
And of course, McDonald’s sells way more burgers than the busiest gourmet restaurant. That doesn’t mean the latter establishment doesn’t do something of value.
I struggle with finding my audience, too. I think most of us do. All we can do is encourage each other. 🙂
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“Poetry…people who get intoxicated over the cadence and flavor of words.” An astute observation about the craft and its audience. True about all audiences for the many forms of entertainment and outlet that hawk for our limited attention. I haven’t even found the courage to step out with my novels – these are what I really want to promote – one day.
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a good night’s rest with this lovely poem in mind ❤
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Very sweet to hear – I often can’t sleep so I’m pleased to know this one gave you that comfort.
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🙂
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Another truly beautiful poem, Shari! I can only echo Cathleen’s words, there’s so much feeling in this one.
As to the publishing of poems – that was always a tricky one and will remain so. But those of us who fall in love with poetry are the the lucky ones. 😊
I wonder, how long does it take for you to write these poems?
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Interesting question, Sarah. I’ve sometimes written poems in my dreams which means that on waking, I don’t remember them, only that “greatness” happened. Sometimes lines come when I’m in a place where I can’t write them down, like showering or driving. Then I grab a piece of paper (wet scrawls when I’m hanging half out of the shower, jagged scrawls when I’m at a stop light on the road) and jot down essential thoughts. Usually however I imagine one idea that is inspired by an event I’ve witnessed or a meaningful moment. I write it down and then work on it, sometimes over weeks or even let a year pass before completion. I don’t know if other poets are more focused than me but I’ve never considered myself a poet. Just an observer.
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Thank you for letting me in to your poetic world, Shari. I think it´s fascinating that some of your poems come visit you in your dreams, or when you’re in a somewhat unpractical place. I’ve often dreamed of a story that in my dreams seemed worth writing down but when I wake up it evaporates as rapidly as mist on a sunny morning. 🙂
And I don’t think that working on a poem or any other kind of art for over a year means that one is less focused than others. Everybody has her or his own approach, and even if we’re not writing something down, we might subconsciously work on a piece on our minds. At least, that’s what I’m thinking.
And in my mind, observing is all it takes to be an artist or a writer/poet, without observing other people or things, occurrences, we wouldn’t be able to get anything done in an artistic way.
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A great description of how artists of any media work. Thanks for your astute contribution, Sarah.
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Lovely!
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Thank you.
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