Welcome, everyone, to dVerse. The title’s a line from the book and movie 2001: A Space Odyssey though you don’t have to be in outer space or look through a telescope to be struck with wonder at the night sky. I remember walking down a road in Iowa at nightfall and suddenly the immensity of the universe of stars above me in that flat-as-a-pan landscape made me feel as if I had entered another world.

Thus were the stars of heaven created like a golden chain
To bind the Body of Man to heaven from falling into the Abyss.”

William Blake, “Vala, or The Four Zoas, Night the Second” (1797), an unfinished poem divided into nine nights.

Now in the Eastern mid-Atlantic not far from the Chesapeake Bay, the view may not be the same but the night’s metamorphosis still works its magic. The familiar becomes unfamiliar. And wherever we may be, the night’s mantle alters our surroundings and the rhythm of the day. Even the interior of our homes looks different once darkness falls outside and curtains are drawn, shades pulled, and we ready ourselves for bed. We read in pools of lamplight. We shed clothes and enter a new phase of the day, one that is quieter and in sleep, free of alarm, or one that is merely more empty. Or we stay awake in a bout of insomnia wondering how anyone can sleep with all the excessive noises (or silence) of the night and the thoughts that weigh us down.

Depending on whom you ask, the night means many things to many people. Poets are no exception. For the imprisoned 16th-century Spanish mystic John of the Cross in “The Dark Night of the Soul,” it symbolizes the soul’s encounter with God. For Robert Frost in “Acquainted with the Night,” a walk in the city at night exposes the loneliness and the dark underside of the world. For Mary Oliver, whether on a “Snowy Night” or a “White Night,” the night’s transformations make her renew her connections with nature however severe its course. “I love this world,” she writes in “Snowy Night,” “but not for its answers.” For Wendell Berry in “The Peace of Wild Things,” a sleepless night gives way to a grace apart from the worries of life. Contemporary poet A. E. Stallings in “Night Thoughts” avers that nocturnal thoughts are “not like bats” to freely swoop and “squeak or sing”; instead

They weep their limestone tears,
They hang, but do not fly,
Accretion of the years,
They sweat. They petrify.

If you haven’t already guessed, I’d like you to write a poem that centers around the night. What does it inspire, or trigger? What emotions? What thoughts?

In your poem, you might want to write about the night descriptively, perhaps at a particular time of your life or setting (seaside, for example) or event (e.g., going into the city for a concert or movie, walking in your garden, an encounter with an owl or a ghost). You may want to use the night as a symbol or metaphor for something more reflective like Matthew Arnold’s “Dover Beach.” However you choose to use it, in a narrative or a lyrical vein, let the imagery of the night shape your poem’s theme.

For newcomers, here’s what to do:
Write a poem and link it up to Mr Linky.
Please put a link back to this post in your post – it increases our traffic, and ultimately yours.
Read and comment – there’s no better way to get to know your fellow poets. Enjoy!