Nightlight Poetry

Nightlight Poetry....printed in phosphorescent ink and framed to be used as nightlights that fade to dark....

From the collection:

The Post Humous Autobiography of William Blake


Moonchild

By moonlight
Live
All great
And small,

Those giants
Swelled
And those
Not tall,

However
Old
Or young
They be,

There's none
More here
Than
Only me.

Unique
And often
Un-
Understood

To them
I'm strange,
But for me
I'm oddly good.


After the Darkness

At night
The lights
Go mainly
Out,

Except
For stars
And nightlight
Shout.

My candle
Flame,
My flashlight
Beam,

Is tougher
Than
The shadow
Scene.

For when
I wake
From shadow's
Games,

The sun
Reveals
What light
Reclaims.

When Playtime Ends

There comes
A time
When
Playtime ends,

When sun
Goes down
And light
Beam bends.

Then it's
Time
To say
Good night,

And lay
Me down
In sleepy
Flight.

My dreams
Of peace
And softest
Thought

Then free
My heart--
Untie
Each knot.

When the Battle's Over

I fought
All day
And won
A few,

But
Some I lost,
Yes,
One or two.

Tomorrow
Is
Another
Day,

And then
We'll see
Just what
They say.

Then
I'll make
A better
Plan,

To hold
My own
And make
My stand.

But now
I'll rest
My
Energy,

And better
Then
I'll be
More me.

What I Should Have Said

The ruthless
Bullies
Of
The world

Do not
Know
My
Inner girl.

They've
Not met
Someone
Like me

Whose
Deepest
Strength
Is being free.

I do not
Think
Like any
One;

My mind's
My own
And I'm
No fun

When
I must
Put my foot
Right down

And face
Someone
Who's been
A clown.


Tough on the Outside

I'm tough
On the outside
And play
At my game

But sometimes
My insides
Get feeling
Quite lame.

Words can
Deep cut me
And open
Me up,

And sometimes
My heartstrings
Can break
So abrupt.

But I would
Rather
Just know
How I feel

Because
Then I know
That my feelings
Are real.


Do the Impossible

People
Will say
I can't do
What I do.

I don't
Understand
When I'm showing
To you

The very
Same thing
You claim
Is so rare,

So all
I can say
Is, "Stand
Over there."


The Best Me Possible

I've got
My faults,
Of that
I've no doubt,

But shaming
And laughing
And pointing
Them out,

Helps
Not a bit
By putting
Me down,

And, if you
Continue,
I'll not
Stick around.

I'm a
Good friend,
And we
Cick together,

No matter
The wound,
No matter
The weather.

Being
The me
That's best
All the time

Means
Being a friend
In heart
And in mind.


Hungry at Breakfast

First thing
In the morning
When light breaks
At dawn,

I head
For the kitchen
Where breakfast
Is on.

Oatmeal
Or fruit,
Or bacon
And eggs,

Is only
Just part
For what
My soul begs.

Peace
In the world
Beginning
With me,

I greet
Every morning
So grateful
I'm free.


When Things Go Sideways

Some days
Are awesome
In ways
Unexplained.

You'd think
It was planning--
As if it
Were trained.

Others
Are days
When sideways
It skids,

Grown ups
Go crazy
Or else
It's the kids,

All
I can do
Is be
Only me,

And then
I imagine
My house
In a tree.

I write
And I draw
And sing
All my songs,

And make
A world happy
Without
Any wrongs.

This must have been when Blake wrote songs of innocence...