Twilight
The Golden Hour
There is a space between sleep and the world,
where shadows come to life.
In the cocoon of the dawning night,
old whispers come to heavy ears,
bright and teasing.
Liminal and sublime,
there is no gravity here.
Only the seeds of hopes -
and the ghost of old fears.
To navigate these waters night on night,
with the sun blotting out the North Star,
is a feat...
But there is no might in dreaming,
nor in waking from the fitful half-sleep to see the spectres of old faces in a painting,
a tangled heap of clothes.
Peeking from behind the cracked door.
No shame in wanting,
in longing for the times before.
I miss the monsters under my bed,
and the terrors of childhood.
They never left me weeping for someone who will not come home.
They never left me so utterly alone.
About the Creator
S. A. Crawford
Writer, reader, life-long student - being brave and finally taking the plunge by publishing some articles and fiction pieces.
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More stories from S. A. Crawford and writers in Poets and other communities.
Tea set by a suffragette
Pankhurst is a name well known to the history of women’s suffrage. Who hasn't heard the name Emmaline Pankhurst, founder of the Women's Social and Political Union (WSPU), an all-women organisation campaigning for the right to vote? The group that helped to achieve the right to vote for women in Great Britain and Ireland in 1918. Some know of her daughter Christabel, both being honoured by the Pankhurst memorial in Victoria Palace Gardens, London, right next to the UK Parliament buildings. Sylvia Pankhurst is notably not included in the monument. Why? Because she split with the WSPU to campaign against Britain's entry into First World War.
By Raymond G. Taylor2 days ago in Art
Comments (19)
Amazing image, Twilight?? saga??
This is brilliant! Congrats on the TS!
Beautiful, lucid but drifting.
So easy to read this poem. It flows beautifully. "I miss the monsters under the bed." I relate. I miss a wolf. :)
Wow! I love your elegant prose and knack for painting images with words. This particular line was awesome to me: "spectres of old faces in a painting". GREAT poem! Just... wow!
💛💚👌
The line, 'I miss the monsters under my bed,' stands out, highlighting the nostalgic desire for simpler fears of childhood over the complex pains of adulthood. Great work!
🌌✨🌙 This poem mesmerizingly explores the realm between sleep and wakefulness, delving into nostalgic memories and haunting emotions. The vivid imagery creates a captivating atmosphere, while the longing for the past and acceptance of fears resonate deeply. A thought-provoking piece that invites introspection. 🖊️🎭❤️ Great job
“I miss the monsters under my bed” Oh yea, you snapped on that one 🔥🔥
After reading I had to subscribe. Painfully beautiful.
This is such an emotionally beautiful poem!
Congratulations on your Top Story🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉
"I miss the monsters under my bed ..." This poem unpacks this in such a poignant way. You have a new subscriber!
Oh, I love this! I love the title, because twilight has multiple meanings. It can be that period between daylight and nightfall, or a period of descent in someone’s life, like the sun going down. I loved this part: “In the cocoon of the dawning night, old whispers come to heavy ears, bright and teasing.” That’s so powerful. Cocoon makes me think of transitions, just like twilight, but the old whispers being bright and teasing make me think this is about the type of nostalgia that hurts. Then, “I miss the monsters under my bed, and the terrors of childhood,” drives that home. We all go through a period between childhood and feeling completely grounded and secure within ourselves. A period where we are adults, and expected to fend for ourselves, but emotionally we’re not ready. And nobody talks about it. Thank you for this poem, and congrats on Top Story! 🥂
You had me at the topic TWILIGHT. Then the poem lived up to it's name. This is really lovely.
So thankful Ian shared this piece today as it's a really relatable and beautifully penned poem. Well done on this :)
Beautifully written 📝 💖😉👣
This is a truly beautiful piece that led to a direct blow to the childhood. I too sometimes wish for childish dreams 😀. So very well done!
That hit close to home, lovely and sad! Truly a beautiful poem!