Best Black As Night Poems


A Life In Sepia and Watercolours

When I was just a little girl
I painted soaring seagulls
in a dawning sky of duck-egg blue
I painted ladybirds and whimsical butterflies
A red cottage with square-shaped windows
A misty mountain with a purple hue.
All my fields were evergreen
with  flowers falling like confetti in between.
A rising sun in molten gold so bright
with shifting leaves along a riverside.

I painted mushrooms covering faries
Unicorns, princesses and queens
Happy trolls and Naughty elves
 riding on watercoloured bees.

As such was life, Carefree
As beautiful as dreams.

Years rolled on, trees turned old
Vibrant colours became the past in an hourglass.

All shadows now, are black as night
All that is left are sepia shades 
dim  as  the gloom of a Winter day.

But little child out there, Listen to me..

Never let clouds cover your soul with ash -of-grey

Like candyfloss, clouds might seem huge
But they're made of fluff...Blow them away.

Blow them away before it rains
Yet if rain pours its heavy  drops
and gusty winds whirl from strong storms

Never give up!

Lilt up your head, seek with those eyes
In every journey a rainbow hides
Just keep on searching, do not be blind
Leave all your troubles way back behind.

All shadows now, are black as  night
All that are left are Sepia shades
dim as the gloom of a Winter day

But now and then a spell's bestowed upon my name
With an old brush and childhood colours
I paint an orchard with sugar-maples
and fragrant blossoms blooming in May.

Premium Member The Color of Silence

If you could paint a picture of silence
What color would it be?

Would you use a brush to paint the fog
in shades of gray, a touch of brown 
to hush the season from all sound? 

Would eaves be dripping to the ground
while windows weep with quiet tears
Where solitude has blurred the view
in states of lonely winter-lude?

Would silence be a shade of green
A forest deep, a muted scene
No sound to scatter birds from trees
No broken branch, or swaying grass
Missteps that crackle the fallen leaves
Untouched by clatter, harsh and rude?

Would silence be as black as night
A cave too deep for shards of light
A void within a famished core
A well of dark and empty shores?

Or would silence be of many hues?
A rainbow shade of morning dew
A soft pastel of sun declining?
No bedlam, blast or blare of noise
Could break the spell, a silent voice 
As if the soul could slip away....

A hush,  immense.....so sweet and keen, 
Like ghosts unseen, or angels soft as air...
A silent sea, ....where mountains lend an ear
As clouds pile high, ....and wait to hear...
Only for this:  such peace....such bliss
A sound so small, ... as welcome as a sigh

A Black Woman's Ambition

A black stone with diamonds inside
She shines but you would never know
They hit her but she never falls 
They whip her but she never breaks 
Speed in her step even though they try to slow her down
Make her fail, just so that they can beat her down 
Again and again
But they never get the chance 
They tell her she's property 
Meant to be owned
Planting plants that their too lazy to grow
In their eyes she's just a cotton-picker
But she knows better than to believe their foolish words

Black as night
But bright as a star
Hard as a diamond
Hard to break
Locked in a concrete box 
That's hard to take!
She writes with passion
In the shadows 
Hidden from her captures 
Writing the truth of her sufferings 

Sometimes writing away the reality of her captivity 

White clouds surrounding her 
Caving in
Watching her every move
So clear but so dark and evil at the same time
She barely wants to move 
But she doesn't have a choice

She writes with her heart
Not with her head
Writing is her release
Reading is her consumption 
Breathing out then slowly inhaling each and every word 
Falling deeper into someone else’s life and wishing it was her own
That’s why she started writing 
To create a new reality for herself
Envisioning a world of peace
Released from the cage that she has been confined to 

But the cruel world that she has been cursed with by God
Creeps its way up to her neck
Taking hold of any freedom that she had created for herself
In those so few minutes alone
Pulling her from her slumber 
Stripping her of her innocents
Marking her with fire
Crippling her into ashes
Making her realize that there is no way out of this alive
She can only pray for that last day to come sooner 

The morning sun taking her out of her trans, making her sufferings all the more relevant


Premium Member Life Is Like a Maypole

LIFE IS LIKE A MAYPOLE

Outstretch above are blue skies and golden sunshine
as train of threads is softly thug and braid to a pole.
Behold, this sky high pole of bright crayon colors,
they speak slowly about life in quite a number. . .

Sturdy wooden pole standing high and tall
is like a man endowed with wit and strength
The lengthy colored ribbons children install
are the shifting, rolling faces of life's events 

Black as night sometimes dawn in life,
one maybe blue but not long, instead
do stand and chase rainbows on green belt bend.
Being a tickled pink to explore, never strife!

See, how the color red blush as it dance in the wind
so must we as we share love along kinship line
we aren't all born with a green finger
yet, each kindness touch, grin lingers!

Shed that yellow-bellied skin
to mingle without any charign.
Our life is given by God in silver plate.
Hence, let our daily goal be a red-letter day!

If we do, earth and sky may wed of rapport
like the ribbons together pulled and blend
by hands of dancing children that mend...
Raising the Maypole aloft with ribbon pour

so is a lived life despite black and blues decor.
As the threads slide smoothly in span of minutes 
we, humans, must climb to reach our full limits.
The intertwining colors that fused, all roar

salad differences of man can be sorted, united to be one.
Screaming colors tickle lowly spirits' to fire
daring man to live before his body will retire. . .
Living life to the fullest before each setting sun!

_____________________________________________________________
 ©O.E. Guillermo
 11:23 pm-- February 02, 2015

Sponsor: Seren Roberts 
Contest Name: Life is like a Maypole 
Placed 1st

A Raven's Thirst - Part 2

II

Afar across cool waves on quiet shores,
beneath each rising sun her beauty grew,
as pure as falling snow, the skin she wore
aglow with radiance as sweet as dew.

Soft burnished raven tresses, black as night,
caressed her face then fell in silk cascade,
and honeyed tones adorned a voice, so light,
that echoed from blush lips in serenade.

As days and many months of time weaved on
she blossomed, as a rose of scent so rare,
yet of her many suitors she’d have none,
dismissed with gentle wave of hand so fair.

A lone and wistful silver moonlit stroll
unearths a song that strangely stirs her soul.

Premium Member Blade

The mighty steed was black as night.. (Cobolt was his name)
His rider, Blade,  a Warrior Knight
Swiftly through the dark forest he rode
A realm he ruled with an iron code
He was in search of his  magical blue amulet
Stolen he believed by a raven.. his enemy's evil pet

Blade was aided in his search by his gray owl
Who flew night and day as for the raven he prowled
His enemy,  Prince Zoxi, waited at the forest edge
To kill Blade he had made a solemn pledge
As Blade neared the end of the forest
He drew his sword , which glowed with a fiery zest

The two warriors met at the break of dawn
A fight to the death now began
The battle raged through the early morn
The swords echoed with each clang
Deftly,..  Blade sidestepped a thrust.. and  his fiery sword found its mark
Prince Zoxi fell to the ground
The Warrior Knight of the forest dark
had inflicted the fatal wound

He ripped his  amulet from Zoxi's neck
And on his mighty steed he made his trek
To his dark forest haven
And his gray owl overhead, and in his talons,  the evil raven
The caw of the raven was heard no more 
And over the dark forest the gray owl soars

A new enemy from the west,  Bomani,..  The mountain warrior, drew near
He shudders when the thunder of the mighty steed he hears
And riding boldly to meet him as with speed his mighty steed explodes
Is.. BLADE..  The Warrior Knight of dark abode
© Joseph May  Create an image from this poem.


Maroon Boy, You Must Go Home Now

Maroon boy, you must go home now
Go walk naked in your tropic sun
And scan the bush for the wild sow
And test your youth in the jarring run
Go to your woodland and recall
Every bush and tree by its name
Listen to hear a mango fall
And smile when the poinsettia flame
This is too noisy a place, child
The cars cough their carbon black as night
Into my lung, I am defiled
By secret waves humming with red light
Or invisible as bad ghosts
Churning my cells to sickness and death
These cities are frail frantic hosts
And the children here, are full of fret
Maroon boy, you cannot stay here
The wilderness calls you over there.

Ink

Ink.
Black as both the crow and the cat that Edgar Allen Poe wrote of.

Ink.
More meaningful than you might think.
Words penetrate our hearts and minds, but
ink does both and sinks deep within and between the pages, binding, and lines.

Ink.
Dark and mysterious.
Yet clear and concise.

Ink.
Hurtful, yet helpful.
A never failing flicker of light.

Ink.
A tool, a hobby, the hearts design
A love, a passion, a joy and a show of affection, rejoicing, celebration and of all that is mentioned and more combined.

Ink.
Man's gift, man's privilege,  man's pot of knowledge and gold.

Ink.
Both for the young, the aging, and the old.

Ink.
A device to say both hello and goodbye.
A way to rejoice, sound sorrow, or joy.
A way to say I love you, to someone for whom which you care.
A way for them to say the same, six words of miscomprehended compare.

Ink.
A way to convey feeling, to record history and time.
A way to teach us, knowledge that we may not else find.

Ink.
Forever it stays.
Black as night and yet light as day.

Ink.
Our greatest invention, always it must stay.

The Last Masterpiece

She flowed out of his sable brush 
As if form became fluid
Indigo blue the first of hues
Each stroke a caress …


A teardrop sliding down his face
His memories piercing his heart
Sighs and a deep breath 
His lifetime masterpiece awaits …


Silver lit hair black as night
Her Indigo eyes abrim with love
Soft white skin transparent
A white spotted dress of cornflower blue 
silk trimmed waist
Forever imprinted in Memory
A testament to their Love


Raising his hand wrinkled through time
the curve of her breast takes shape
her form follows next …


Pausing for thought ,
he remembers a day etched fast in his mind
Around her head , 
Mists of water rainbow hues
Behind her a waterfall of crystal blue
Shadow and shape suggest beings
The faeries she hoarded
Dancing like angels around her head
These he added as she would be pleased …


His hand starts to shake 
effort and time taking its toll
mad with mother time 
robbing him of his one great gift
this would be his last …


Pouring 50 years of marriage 
His heart and soul
Smeared , brushed , and smudged
Light and dark no dis chord
Finished he is complete
His one great masterpiece
His wife his love …


Packing away his palette
an artisan to his gift
closing the lid on colour
washing his brushes 
and cleaning knives
Weathered hands tremble
Reaching for a glass
The bottle , a sherry he saved ,
from a golden anniversary
their last …


Taking a sip he closes his eyes
waiting for memory to carry him back
To a time beloved …

Haunted

I wake from dreams and sweating, stare;
and as the clock is striking three, the ghostly form appears to me.
'Oh no,' I say, 'it cannot be - just nerves affecting what I see.'
The figure floats around my bed.

It makes a fearful moaning sound,
its eyes are holes as black as night, its face a glowing shade of white,
and adding to that ghastly sight, it seems to move from left to right,
but leaves no shadow on the ground.

I close my eyes and pray for peace,
but sense it coming ever near - no words describe my utter fear!
I wonder was it too much beer? But no, this thing is really here,
and will this nightmare ever cease?

It speaks my name in eerie tones.
'I'm sorry that you had to die - I fired the gun...I don't know why,'
I murmur, causing it to cry, 'They fried you in The Chair.'  I sigh,
and then I crumple, dusty bones...

written 1st November for Joseph's Rhymes Sublime contest
© Jack Horne  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member beautied panther -

       beautied panther, black as night
   through the jungle, prancing
 my machete longs to bite
dark and sleek
 grand mystique
   moonbeams bright, entrancing

beautied panther, steely gaze
    long, I've watched you stalking
       thru the twilight's violet haze
        birthed to slay
       sweet, the prey
    joined, our souls keep talking

       beautied panther, have you seen
   the maid that walks the reefs?
 much as you she strolls between
the dimming light
 and growing night
   through shadows close as thieves

beautied panther, jungle shores
    now scorched with fanning fires
       she strips bare, this carnal core
        on cooling sands
       her flesh demands
    like yours, night's dark desires

       beautied panther, myst’ries seen
   tho’ far too deep to name
 within her eyes of absinthe green
two stripes of gold
 like yours, truth told
   you are but ONE, the same ...

           (now I've become your game)

beautied panther, plunging deep
    the gloaming's limpid pool
       I follow you to rapture's keep
        you change to her
       soft skin, from fur
    we dive down, dark and cool ...

the panther - and her fool.






                   ~

* Inspired by Lucius Shepard’s short story “The Jaguar Hunter” *

Checkerboard of Black and White

Flies in the dark black as night
Cloak waving like wings… such a fright
It gives all the people, who are watching close by
Leering face makes children cry.

Always an angel with wings of pure white
Nearby….. waiting to put all things right
To wave a magic wand with a gentle smile
Making people smile again…. for awhile

Life is like that, shades of black and white
Days of depression cannot see the light.
Along comes someone who with a smile
Lightens your load…. Just for a while.

So the pantomimes at Christmas really reflect life
Stories from long ago so very lifelike
Dark followed by light happens in all of our lives
Like a checkerboard of black and white strife


Penned 15/2/2017

Drenched of Hell's Insanities

Drenched of hell’s insanities 



Sending chills this tortured spine, 
as aches precede the worded fiction
Sorted truth does rest sublime 
beneath the light of benediction
Broken dreams of compass flair, 
directions cast a blinded waning
Trusted roots abridge the square 
of all that’s lost and is remaining

Washed along this fertile beach 
of sanded hope and history 
Tasting o’ thy patterned speech 
as common phrases come to me 
Desolate my cornered mind 
of images I pray be true
Dangling the lost to find 
retaliation in my view

Pray, oh be, as life does rattle 
chains of only mist to turn
Laughter like some long fought battle, 
in amongst we tend to learn
When the calling comes so random, 
names are lost on open seas
One by one in columned tandem, 
drenched of hell’s insanities

Take me of thy deepest suture, 
so that I may feel the end
Black as night o’ bleakest future, 
paint your shadows once again
Razored claw and broken arrows, 
filled with such, the violence
Playing through the endless narrows, 
falling to my own expense

This, a life that's not worth living, 
not this day, not anymore
Breaths so tethered in their giving, 
pull the drapes and close the door
Take a seat your exits' waiting, 
frozen hinges squeak in time
Find the map for navigating, 
somehow through this wicked rhyme

Follow me, I know the heading,
down this staircase, up the hall
End those futile tears you're shedding,
she's not waiting for your call
Through this doorway stenciled broken,
toss your heart there on the floor
It is but a useless token,
you'll not need it anymore

You’re now privy to the meaning, 
whether you do understand
Motioned light, this night is leaning, 
let it take you by the hand
Now of time and missing portal, 
through the lens of sights unknown
Nothing whispers you’re immortal, 
for this day you have been shown


It’s Halloween my souper friends. 
Posting a few dark ones today. : )

Premium Member Into Eternity

If I were but a stone and you were a peach
Would you stay on your branch totally out of reach?

If I were a dandelion and you were the wind 
Would you help me spread my seeds, be my dearest friend?

If I were but a seedling struggling for life in the snow
Would you be the winter sun and shine to help me grow?

Babe when I was so stoned I was totally out of reach
You offered me your heart, the sweetness of the peach

Babe when I was an evil man spreading seeds in the wind
You saw the good in me and became my dearest friend

Babe when my soul was black as night my heart as cold as snow
You opened up my heart and soul then taught them how to grow

And now just look and you and I the couple that we are
Just a couple of happy quasars shining like a single star 

So never think in your life that I would ever go away
I will be right at your side until we reach our dying day

If I had but a single wish sweetheart that wish would be
Let us be in each other’s arms as we step into eternity

A Rugged Piece of Wood

A RUGGED PIECE OF WOOD

A rugged piece of wood became the stable where
Two people came to stay--the only room was there.
A rugged piece of wood became a manger fair;
A Baby soon was born and placed to sleep in there.
A rugged piece of wood the Carpenter would give
A smoothness in the shop where He and Joseph lived.
A rugged piece of wood--the fisher’s boat so strong--
He stood from once to preach to the people all day long.
A rugged piece of wood they took for Him one day
And forced Him down the road to drag it on the way.
A rugged piece of wood now fastened with three spikes
And raised up in the sky, becoming black as night.
A rugged piece of wood, drenched with His precious blood
Became my sin’s paid pardon when I trusted in that flood.
As I looked at that place where once the cross had stood,
I knew salvation’s mine through that rugged piece of wood.
And the blood that He shed there has cleansed my every stain
To give salvation free through faith in Jesus’ Name.
It may seem quite a price, but God said it was good;
He bought salvation there with a rugged piece of wood.

Get a Premium Membership
Get more exposure for your poetry and more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Reflection on the Important Things

Member Area

My Admin
Profile and Settings
Edit My Poems
Edit My Quotes
Edit My Short Stories
Edit My Articles
My Comments Inboxes
My Comments Outboxes
Soup Mail
Poetry Contests
Contest Results/Status
Followers
Poems of Poets I Follow
Friend Builder

Soup Social

Poetry Forum
New/Upcoming Features
The Wall
Soup Facebook Page
Who is Online
Link to Us

Member Poems

Poems - Top 100 New
Poems - Top 100 All-Time
Poems - Best
Poems - by Topic
Poems - New (All)
Poems - New (PM)
Poems - New by Poet
Poems - Read
Poems - Unread

Member Poets

Poets - Best New
Poets - New
Poets - Top 100 Most Poems
Poets - Top 100 Most Poems Recent
Poets - Top 100 Community
Poets - Top 100 Contest

Famous Poems

Famous Poems - African American
Famous Poems - Best
Famous Poems - Classical
Famous Poems - English
Famous Poems - Haiku
Famous Poems - Love
Famous Poems - Short
Famous Poems - Top 100

Famous Poets

Famous Poets - Living
Famous Poets - Most Popular
Famous Poets - Top 100
Famous Poets - Best
Famous Poets - Women
Famous Poets - African American
Famous Poets - Beat
Famous Poets - Cinquain
Famous Poets - Classical
Famous Poets - English
Famous Poets - Haiku
Famous Poets - Hindi
Famous Poets - Jewish
Famous Poets - Love
Famous Poets - Metaphysical
Famous Poets - Modern
Famous Poets - Punjabi
Famous Poets - Romantic
Famous Poets - Spanish
Famous Poets - Suicidal
Famous Poets - Urdu
Famous Poets - War

Poetry Resources

Anagrams
Bible
Book Store
Character Counter
Cliché Finder
Poetry Clichés
Common Words
Copyright Information
Grammar
Grammar Checker
Homonym
Homophones
How to Write a Poem
Lyrics
Love Poem Generator
New Poetic Forms
Plagiarism Checker
Poetry Art
Publishing
Random Word Generator
Spell Checker
What is Good Poetry?
Word Counter