This night is not a rose
but sea and thorns,
a gilded mirror,
chandeliers and gneis,
the end and new beginnings,
moss and stones
a story and a dream.
This night is mine to spend —
not owned, not paid for
my cocoon.
The kiss by Edvard Munch
A poem for OLN at dVerse. Grace hosts.
—
April 19, 2018
Running in the slow lane
The view from here ... Or here!
“Life is like riding a bicycle. To keep your balance, you must keep moving.” — Albert Einstein
chronicling my quarter life crisis
Now we see through a glass, darkly
rejuvenatement - not retirement
words and scribble.
The Quantumverse
Poetry, haiku. Life, word play, puns, free verse
About fantastical places and other stuff
Björn Rudbergs writings 
Beautifully written.
Wonderful jumble of words
Sounds perfect to me.
gneis is an interesting word; did you mean it as “spark” or “a type of rock” or something else?
I meant it as a rock… to set it against the chandelier.
Love the gilded mirror and freedom of owning that night ~
….”a story and a dream….” this night holds many mysteries.
Wow…this is wonderful. I particularly liked your last stanza.
This is a night to drink and fall into oblivion! A wonderfully dark poem. Excellent!
kaykuala
This night is mine to spend —
not owned, not paid for
my cocoon.
Blissful privacy, how very privileged!
Hank
the end and new beginnings,
moss and stones
a story and a dream.
and the night belongs to you…
Make it a memory! Spend it well!
Nicely done! Choices of the night are mine alone! Very True!
Dwight
I paused at the first line, already breath-taking. I love the idea of possessing the night as one’s cocoon.
Nice description of the night: “not owned, not paid for”
“moss and stones a story and a dream”… sigh.. this is stunning!💜
Love what you’ve done with the night, love the melding of faces in The Kiss.
Anna :o]
A kaleidoscope of colors and imagery…fascinating.
A delicious description of that special nighttime moment of descending into our “cocoon”. Wonderful imagery.
I can’t move away from the atmosphere of my poem “Food Chain” and the privilege and beauty of yours; It rattles me. I would rather paint in your world, Bjorn.
These are the dream images of early sleep before the narrative of the REM stage take over. I’m not sure I have a point, but that would fit with this poem, it does not need a point, all it needs is to sleep, to breathe, to be – just like a cocoon – a protection that covers life while it pivots inward in order to change to some other form of life waiting to emerge in the morning. Very lovely, Thank you, Bjorn.
Enchanting interpretation of the painting…night is my cocoon!
It sounds like a good place to be.
Yes! – you have struck the chord beautifully here. Total connected with your words.