midnight conversations in tinted light

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tales from a darkly lit bar
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This year for napo, I want to try something a little different. It'll be a series of thematic poems from a world and set of characters of a long time novel idea. Writing is always incredibly difficult for me, I'm always too self critical and as soon as the words appear they never feel good enough.

The ideas are vague, amorphorus, like the aftertaste of a dream moments after I wake up. Almost, always there but forever gone.

I hope through these poems I get a better understanding of these characters, this world that lives in my mind. It would be intriguing too, to see what others think of it as well.


Napos from the ages:

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'And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music.' ― Friedrich Nietzsche

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I. before the change - her

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the light was gentler then,
shade of freshly peeled
apricot skins. warm to touch,
sweetness like my grandmother's hug
a kindness so soft, you would never doubt
whether it was meant as something else.

soft water under foot, verdant ferns
the gentle swishswash of bamboo leaves
brushing against tiled roofs, each whisper
the rhythmic melody of your heart.
be soft in the face of adversity,
to bend is a greater strength than
to break
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'And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music.' ― Friedrich Nietzsche

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i. before the change - an extended version. i struggle immensely with putting down ideas on an actual documnet nowadays, these are secondary additions I feel is apt whilst writing the poem. These are mostly prose, instead of poetry. Feel free to read if you'd like <3

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Whenever I think about home, I always associate it with the sounds of bamboos. The huge forest that surrounded our whole village, overarching verdant green leaves that looked like translucent jade under the sun. The sound of the leaves in spring and summer, a rhythmic, soothing swishswash that accompanied my daily life. The hollow sounds of the trunks swaying in the wind, an asynchronous orchestra of wooden bells echoing throughout the mountain side. I think I can see why the gods choose this as a site of healing.

Everything here brims with life, from the water that ran through the village at the foot of the mountain, to the bamboo forests we're blessed with, even down to the abundance of wildlife that lives in the mountain.

Maybe that was why, it was all the more ironic, when I was born without the healers' touch.
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'And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music.' ― Friedrich Nietzsche

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II - her

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there is no salvation in this house of cards,
where every flip of the hand
reveals the same ending,
again and again.

fifty two times, i watch my mother weep in
the dark, the muted sound of winter moonlight
hiding behind clouds. fifty two times, i watch
as my grandmother
lie to me. salvation, she says
is not to be found within the deity nestled in heavens
but deep in the roots of my overtangled heart.
but i know the only thing there,
is a shipwreck of coastal hopes, lost in migration

fifty two times, i watch my father leave
his shadow stretched long, as he prays
on the cedar wood tiled stones.
fifty two times, i count the dull thud
as his head meets the brown timber
in fervent desperation.

fifty two times, i watch as the same ending
is revealed
again,
and again,
and again.
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'And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music.' ― Friedrich Nietzsche

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Loving this whole concept! :D I especially love your latest poem and the repetition of "fifty two times"!!!

Also... love this:

salvation, she says
is not to be found within the deity nestled in heavens
but deep in the roots of my overtangled heart.


Absolutely stunning!! I cannot wait to read the rest of your poems! <33
“Ley moves and I am a couple feet behind, waiting.” - winterwolf0100
“Ley you will be fine because we all have magic powers that will protect you.” - WeepingWisteria

Ley, she/her
dreamer♡




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iii-him

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it is midnight when catastrophe strikes,
in your after image, a shadow kissed
by daylight. some sunlit softness i will never know,
only the echoing hollowness
wailing in the still air.
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'And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music.' ― Friedrich Nietzsche

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iv.

Spoiler
honestly, today was a pretty massive struggle. i'm not very happy with this one, but something is still better than nothing.


after, we will talk in dim lit bars
where drinks smell like woodfire smoke,
a soothing comfort in the long dark.

we’ll nurse our memories like old wounds,
the same way the ice melts slowly, easing
into a foreign warmth.
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'And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music.' ― Friedrich Nietzsche

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Spoiler
I'm sorry today wasn't easy-- if it makes you feel better, I really enjoyed today's poem either way! <333

we’ll nurse our memories like old wounds,
the same way the ice melts slowly, easing
into a foreign warmth.


^there's something so... comforting about this verse and the poem as a whole. It gave me adventurer/comfy cabin/tavern vibes. :]
“Ley moves and I am a couple feet behind, waiting.” - winterwolf0100
“Ley you will be fine because we all have magic powers that will protect you.” - WeepingWisteria

Ley, she/her
dreamer♡




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v.
tsuki
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my mother always told me,
healing is a practice not of heart
but of the mind. how easy it is
disturbed, by the slightest change of wind
how the quiestest ripple can tornado
into a devestating tsunami.

tsuki, she would say
tend to those wounded,
the same way the moon illuminates
the night, a breathless luminescence
efflorescencing within




Spoiler
Thank you @Elektra <3, your kind words means a lot
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'And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music.' ― Friedrich Nietzsche

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a little late.

vi.


it starts with a single drop of rain,
it starts with the mismatched click of a pin.
that summer evening, sky pregnant with the
wet scent of a brewing storm
that summer evening, the sky taunt with a fire red tension
lacerates the air

i will never forget the upturned roots of
a thousand skies, plummeting down
as if it was the will of some merciless god.
(and if this is faith, then how am i supposed
to keep it when it has destroyed everything
i have ever held dear?)
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'And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music.' ― Friedrich Nietzsche

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vii.

regret is a poor man’s change,
and i am an empty-handed fool
begging at your door


extended version:
Spoiler
but it wasn’t always this way, and I’m not sure when the number of regrets in my heart have stacked up like loose change found from fallen laundry. Like invisible weights, they piled on until all of a sudden, on a sunday afternoon, i noticed the burgeoning weight in my pocket.

It wasn’t always like this, I think there were better times. But now, I no longer remember what they are, only the charred out edges of a distant memory remains. Like an old injury in the winter, it aches every time my tongue remembers the shape of your name.
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'And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music.' ― Friedrich Nietzsche

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Oooooff! How do you capture that exact feeling but in such a POETIC way!? You're poetry is always a treat to read, and you've got some strong poems already in just the first week here!

some favorite lines:

we’ll nurse our memories like old wounds


regret is a poor man’s change,
and i am an empty-handed fool
begging at your door


!!!! <3

Looking forward to continuing to follow along!

- alliyah
you should know i am a time traveler &
there is no season as achingly temporary as now
but i have promised to return




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Agh NaPo buddy you have posted some amazing poetry since I last checked :3 <3333

I love the extended version of your most recent poem, but gosh... I had to highlight these lines from this poem:

that summer evening, sky pregnant with the
wet scent of a brewing storm
that summer evening, the sky taunt with a fire red tension


!!!! So descriptive and the imagery is STRONG here. Can't wait to see what other amazing poetry you drop this month!!
“Ley moves and I am a couple feet behind, waiting.” - winterwolf0100
“Ley you will be fine because we all have magic powers that will protect you.” - WeepingWisteria

Ley, she/her
dreamer♡




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viii.
autumn / bái lù
autumn is the season we met, but you called it by another name.
where the dying sun tried to sustain itself on the tips of summer leaves,
you said it was merely the transit to a different kind of light.
when the leaves turned a sickly shade of yellow,
you said it was a translucent greenhouse, that housed all the brilliance
of the seasons before it.

all this and more, yet
your eyes tell me of a wordless sorrow
of an unforgiving tsunami
of how once, the sun swallows itself
in the midst of a winter eclipse.



Spoiler

@alliyah and @Elektra, AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH you're both too kind, tysm for the encouragements, I'm so glad you're both enjoying the thread so far!
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'And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music.' ― Friedrich Nietzsche

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ix - some moments of peace // not a poem //
Spoiler
but it's my napo thread so i can do whatever i want >.<


i’ve never heard the blues, so you dragged me downtown where neon lights dotted the sky like blinking stars. you said, history was built in these bricks as you grabbed my hand and guided them over the red-ochre stones, baked not from the sun but from the heat of a thousand hands that glided through these streets.

it was the first time someone outside of my family held my hand with such tenderness, i was more lost in the rough ridges that lined your palm more than the stones beneath our fingertips. inside, you pressed my hand to your beating heart, through the fabric of your shirt i could feel the erratic bump of the muscle pressing itself into my palm.

‘you gotta feel it, tsuki.’ and you would press your chest harder into my palm, your eyes, even in the darkness i could feel on my face, ‘here’ and i would never forget that night, dancing to the rhythm of an unknown song, how two hearts beat in sync as if it was the universe in ecstatic motion.
Previously Flite

'And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music.' ― Friedrich Nietzsche

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Sometimes poetry is inspired by the conversation entered into by reading other poems.
— John Barton