Sometimes it feels as if I can only write when its night out. When the sun has retired its glow and the sky has become the darkest navy blue happens to be the perfect time for me to pick up my pen. Now, I've heard many reasons for this that range from my heritage to the magical power of twilight but I've learned not to question it's origins.
I actually wait each day to see if I'll be moved enough to mark up blank pages with my thoughts. Most times its worth the power nap I'll have to take later to make it through the day. My advice to you is to find out which time of day sparks your best writing and get personal with that time. I know I do.
Here's my Ode to nocturnal writing:
Poem #1: A crime of passion [what i remember from a dream]
I tagged up a Barnes & Nobles
Last night
Covered the walls in Shakespeare
Left scrabble tiles in aisles
Spelling out ransom notes
For the classic novels
I held hostage behind bookshelves
There are graffiti bombers
In the bathrooms
Portraits of negro leaders
Hang over each section
Conversation over starbucks
Pages of poems ripped from the spines
Of artists and journals
Laid carelessly in nooks
Of corners that hold
Bean bag chairs filled
With black eyed peas
Smoke and mirrors
Take over the self help section
Hippies ponder over politics
Made confetti out of magazines
To throw at a kiddy party
In honor of doctor Suess
Painted on the walls
Murals of meaning to readers
Who are always falling in love
With books that are banned like me
I tagged up a Barnes & Nobles
Last night in language
Signing off!
The AZUL smocker
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