Late Night Poetry (Part Three)

After writing two poems and having a hard day otherwise, I was ready to head right off to bed. However, words kept swirling around inside, and I couldn’t fall asleep because the emotions I was feeling were too alive at the moment. So this is what came next:

All I Want

Poem after poem,
line after line.
Couldn’t fall asleep,
even if I tried.

Wide awake now:
thoughts now buzzing,
dreams being allowed,
hopes now wishing.

Your face and eyes
and smile and love
are all I see,
are all I want.


Late Night Poetry (Sort of): Part Two

This isn’t the second poem I wrote that night I couldn’t sleep, but that one was a little messy and I didn’t particularly like it, so I’m going to edit it a little and then maybe post it. But enjoy this one instead. Couldn’t exactly stick a title to this poem though.

I’m not sure where my mind-set is;
somewhere between staying and gone,
not quite beyond thinking I was wrong,
between letting go or taking love,
somewhere between hope and giving up,
and I can’t take much more of this.

Late Night Poetry (Part One)

Usually I write my best poetry at night. As I’m about to fall asleep, I start thinking about the day’s events or things I wish could happen, and I automatically start organizing all these thoughts into a poem. Last night, I had this amazing spurt of poetry awesomeness…four poems in about one hour. Usually I’m lucky to get one poem per week, and usually, once I’ve written one poem, my inspiration and emotion is completely used up.

However, last night was the exception, and I had a lot on my mind, plus I couldn’t sleep. So here, in chronological order, over the next few days I’ll share the four poems I wrote. Here’s the first one…it’s written as if you’re meeting an old crush from long (or not so long) ago, and you’re telling them about what you never could before.

It has A LOT of stanza’s, but, as I stated earlier, I had a lot on my mind. I suppose if I wanted to, I could split this into several poems…but it’s one entire experience that I want to keep together. I have purposefully used/not used question marks and other punctuation, based on how the flow sounds to me. I also make a reference to Tim McGraw’s song, “Just to See You Smile.” Feedback and criticism is not only welcome but encouraged!

Did You Know?

Did you know I liked you,
in every single way,
that you were my solemn prayer
nearly every day.

Did you know your eyes,
the brightest, purest hue,
could completely paralyze me,
just like the sight of you.

Did you know a single glance
sent my heart to space?
made it want another look,
made it beat off pace.

Did you know your laugh
made me giggle too?
And no matter what you did,
it was always, always cute.

Did you know my breath
completely disappeared,
whenever I would think of you,
or saw you drawing near.

Did you know I wished and wished
for a chance to approach?
But an encounter never came,
and nothingness killed my hopes?

My courage totally vanished
whenever you were near,
and my ability to speak
was lost in all the fear.

Did you know I desperately needed
to tell you how I feel?
But risk was lost in reason,
dreams lost in the real.

Did you know I watched you,
from near and far away?
The girls you sought after.
Their games that you’d play.

Did you know I had months
of hiding my desires,
as I saw you always disappointed,
our hearts became so tired.

Did you know I noticed,
the signs of your heartache,
and knowing I could be “that girl”
caused my own to break.

As hope for “us” dwindled,
my wish for you was new;
I wanted you to be content,
it didn’t matter with who.

What would befall my heart
all no longer mattered.
As McGraw used to say,
“just to see you smile”.

Did you know I cried
that dreadful, gorgeous night?
But seeing you finally happy,
made it all alright.

So now that you know
all my crushful nonsense,
if ever you feel low again,
just remember this:

In your time of depression
when your heart ached deep blue
when you felt you had no one,

I was in love with you.

**I don’t know why the last line isn’t with its stanza, I didn’t do it on purpose.**

A Haiku Poem

I’m not a big fan of haiku’s, but they’re quick and not too difficult to understand.


In the evening sky
Paint me a memory now
To hold forever.

Sunset is one of the best times of the day…by this time it’s cooler and everything that I’ve supposed to have done is either already done or has been saved (yay procrastination) to the next day.  And how can you not love how pretty the sky looks?

Sunsets always give me a warmness, and make me feel generally pleased with my life.So far I haven’t had one specific sunset that sticks out in my mind. I don’t remember who I was with or what I was doing, but I remember about a million different shades of purple and orange and pink. The sunsets I’ve seen (so far) don’t mark specific memories for me, but are memories themselves.


This is “supposed” to be a limerick but (at least to me, correct me if I’m wrong) the beat is slightly off, if you want to be technical about it. But it’s close enough, I like this poem anyway.


If only you look to the past,
A day in the future is coming fast,
the present will be done,
and you’ll be gone,
and all you’ll have is the past.

This poem is important to me because as I said before, if you read my “33 Things” (if you didn’t you should go now), memories are very important to me. However, sometimes I think too much about remembering certain moments instead of just enjoying them.

Time spent writing in my journal (though I think writing in a journal is time well wasted) could be used writing stories or poetry that I can share or hanging out with family and friends. When I’m having a great day, I try to imprint a certain memory-an activity or a conversation or something silly my dad or little sister did-into my brain so that I won’t forget it. I literally think, “Wow, I need to remember this.” It almost takes away from the actual moment. So for me at least, that’s what this poem is about.

Take away whatever you can from it. Any and all feedback is welcomed!


I realize this is the second post I’ve made today, but I’m just in a really good writing mood (ugh, rhymes are not helpful at a time like this).

Writing is supposed to make you feel things. But during writing I always seem to want to write about how things make me feel, and I just can’t do it. How the heck are you supposed to write out your emotions? I try all the methods I’ve learned or picked up over the years, but it just never seems right to me. How am I supposed to convey something that is so airy? It’s something you can’t really grab onto unless you feel the exact same way.

Maybe it’s hard for someone to write about their emotions because you know how the emotion feels and you know you can never put it exactly into words. It’s not too difficult to get others to feel something-it only takes a few provocative words, and then they can feel whatever they want. But being able to make someone feel exactly how you are is tough.

Can anyone accomplish this task? For example, I’m reading Fallen Angels by Walter Dean Myers. Just some of the things this book makes me feel-I feel so irritated after reading it sometimes, very snappy and hating on everyone. The book is full of hate and pain, so is that conveyed into my everyday life?

As I’m writing this, I’m rocking back and forth in my chair, and it has wheels, so I’m rolling all around. I’m looking about everywhere except the computer screen, trying to figure out what the heck I’m feeling, and if there’s a way I can tell truly tell you. I’m grimacing and making all these faces at the screen.

I was reading a passage about killing people, and if you don’t know someone, if they are really considered a person. How it was easier to kill the Vietcong because they didn’t know what they ate, what their names were, other stuff like that. (Here comes me trying to convey how this made me feel) The truth hit my core. It made me think but made my stomach like a rock at the same time.

Here’s the direct passage, maybe it’ll be easier if you can read it too. Though I doubt you will have the same exact experience as me.

“I just told him that the war was about us killing people and about people killing us, and I couldn’t see much more to it. Maybe there were times when it was right. I had thought that this war was right, but it was only right from a distance. Maybe when we all got back to the World and everybody thought we were heroes for winning it, then it would seem right from there. But when the killing started, there was no right or wrong except in the way you did your job, except in the way that you were part of the killing.

What you thought about, what filled you up more than anything, was the being scared and hearing your heart thumping in your temples and all the noises, the terrible noises, the screeches and the booms and the guys crying for their mothers or for their wives.

And exciting. It was exciting too. Sometimes, when we were waiting to make a move, to go into some area where we hadn’t been before, it was as if time would never come soon enough. That’s what kept it going somehow, that and the idea that we were better than the Congs. It was that, the knowing that we would win, and the excitement that overcame the being scared. If we just did our job, we would be all right. but I didn’t think it was going to last forever. I was growing too tired. It was good that we were only in Nam for a year. ”

All through the passage, I just felt emotional, but I can’t name the emotion I was feeling-it was almost like a conglomeration of all kinds of emotions, but, at the same time, it really was one true emotion. It was some kind of truth speaking to me, and I felt these words were just…indescribably brilliant. That even sounds too weak for the way they made me feel; the words feel despicable, disgusting, commercialized, being written down here.

I felt like I wanted to cry but my eyes wouldn’t get wet. I made a few whimpering noises, and was grimacing at the page and squirming a little. I wanted to read faster and faster so that I could know everything this person was trying to say, to make me feel, but at the same time I wanted to read incredibly slow and let is all just sink into my being and overcome me. My entire chest and stomach ached terribly, not real pain but that feeling that makes you choke up. Whenever I hit a certain sentence, my stomach would drop a little (but not too much) and churn with some tumultuous storm that was so foreign to me, I couldn’t even place where it had come from. It was all over my chest and stomach. The rest of my body was tingly and numb at the same time. It was not like anything I’d ever felt before.

This line is far overused-“not like anything I’ve ever felt before”-because it is so relevant. Every experience is new in its own way. This is why it’s so hard to make words add up to feelings. Because you only have a small store of words to choose from but unlimited feelings and emotions that no one can ever truly give to someone else.

Well-used words can come close, but they can never make someone feel the same exact emotion as someone else. It’s just impossible.You can write something that means something emotionally to you, but it just won’t hold the same feeling as what is inside of you at that exact moment.