National Poetry Day – “Light”

The theme of National Poetry Day this year is “light”, and so, living in a wood, where dawn creeps up through the trees until it bursts forth through my windows, I attempted a poem – I am not a poet!

I could sit and improve its scanning – which like my musical and non-musical timekeeping may be distinctly lacking, dig deep into my befuddled brain for more graceful and curious words, use less lustful alliteration, or just enjoy the creative process. And so, it will suffice. Writing as a process, especially the cathartic and therapeutic, is often best enjoyed imperfect and half-constructed like just being present and watching, rather than trying to capture, a sunrise before it is gone. I enjoyed writing it, that’s the important point.

Fear of Poetry

More than that, it helped restore a fear of poetry had since school. I know I can write, non-fiction that is, I even have a sketched out dystopian fiction I’d like to write – but don’t yet trust my ability. But, poetry – that was killed off in school. I’ve written only one other in 30+ years.

It sounds best – as all poetry should, read aloud – with a dictionary on hand afterwards to look up the stygian definitions of Cimmerians, caliginous and crepuscular if they are new to you!

I was inspired listening to a BBC Radio 4 recitation in Middle English by Kaiti Soultana from Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. Just beautiful.

I now want to spend the day listening to Dylan Thomas. Poetry, like rugby, seems to be best played by the Welsh!

First Light

Night’s obsidian obscurity
Draped in its sable cloak
As a necromancer’s nefarious
Theft of yesterday’s sun

The dark Cimmerian conspiracy
Inconsistently lunar lit
Stolen illustrious illumination
Swift to flight, slow to return

Just as Stygian stealth enveloped
Sun’s setting the night before
Swirling caliginous clouds obfuscate
And bury its subdued disc

Sleep inconveniently intervenes
Sending all to slumber
Except the stars that puncture
Night’s indistinct ink

Yet dawn’s crepuscular creep
First blush of orange and pink
Painting pastel perimeters
Drawing forth pre-dawn

Light leaks, dispels darkness
Night’s mourning veil withdraws
Dawn declares its intent
A new canvas is prepared

Twilight tweets its birth
Nature’s nests peep forth
Panes of windows warm
Rivulets of moisture drip

Aurora invokes sleepy sunrise
Calls to creation’s creatures
Awake, shake off the night
Day’s divine design awaits

The photos were taken by me at dawn during the Paint Out Wells sunrise ‘paint out’ at Wells-next-the-Sea Norfolk. I’m better at photography than poetry!