Best Nigh Poems
** Nigh Another Birthday **
I’ve passed so many birthdays,
That a few dozen of those special days
Fall away in a gray haze,
With too many forgotten by everyone (then or lately),
And were spent like most of my other days,
Which I don’t really mind — without presents, singing,
Cards, and other kinds of celebratory cliches.
It’s really a destined plan
God made before my birth, that He has completely in hand.
Beyond these many decades of years after many passed,
I now greet each birthday with profound gratitude,
Because when illness first hit me at age eight,
This length of my time living NO one had forecast.
Still, now I never want to be
Too old to ask for a kiss, or for a story
Filled with twists and adventure, told to me
At bedtime, as I fall off to dream,
While hearing your voice, my darling,
Which I love so dearly.
I never want to age so much
To be too old for a starlight’s wish;
Or to outgrow the truths of Christmas.
Always may I stay in awe of God’s mysteries
And omnipotent, miraculous ways; and to see
The marvel in every sunrise, every sunset I breathe.
Lord God, may I never be too old for poetry!
To find all its words and lines within me leap
Over many pages, along with the verses of others I read;
Or to hear the sung lyrics of great arias,
And know the well-recited stage soliloquies.
The notes of support and love I receive,
Like treasure, I will also keep.
I never want to age beyond the end
Of Hope; or my meaning’s journeying; or delighting
In Nature as a friend;
Or enjoying, like a child, long hours of play and pretend.
May I never age too old to allow
My heart its freedom…To feel. To grow. To enfold
All, dear Lord, your graced splendors
In this on-going here and now.
———————————————————————————————————————————————-
*** The coming of Christmas makes me think of my birthday, which comes ten days after Christmas on January 4th. Thus, this poem
had its provoked thought into being.
(c) sally young eslinger 12/18/2022
Glory to God — and Merry Christmas. God bless us, every one!
There was a venturous gent
Who travelled the earth’s extent
But at the North Pole
It took quite a toll
Deciphering their accent
It started when he heard elves
Discussing amongst themselves
Saying: ‘le’s make oys
For he girls and boys
And pu all his suff on shelves’
Then said: ‘beer wear warm bandannas
Visiing Monreal and Monana
Because we’re old
Is exra cold
So bring exra blankes for Sana’
Now this gent was truly confused
With the kind of language elves used
Yet he feared missing
So kept on listening
And flipped from anguished to amused
The elves resumed: ‘Is ime o sing
Followed by hiry bells o ring’
Well that sent the gent
Closer to the scent
Of the kind of slang they did sling
He then met the elves finally
With a hey, hello, and howdy
Then said the words right
Singing Silent Night
As: ‘Silen nigh’; with a silent T
Translation if wanted:
Let's make toys
For the girls and boys
And put all this stuff on shelves
Beter wear warm pajamas
Visiting Montreal and Montana
Because we're told
It's extra cold
So bring extra blankets for Santa
It's time to sing
Followed by thirty bells to ring.
The end of the world is now nigh
the signs are all clear in the sky.
With tempest and storm
and tsunamis that warn
of disasters that leave all forlorn.
When the earth says enough is enough
and nature decides to play rough.
Devastation will reign
bringing slaughter and pain
awash with the blood of the slain.
So please heed the words that I say
and have fun while you can every day.
With fun, zest and zeal
find the joy you can steal
before meeting the earth’s final deal.
Let’s face up to our fate with a prayer
although we are faced with despair.
If we pray to our God
he may just spare the rod
letting you in with a wink and a nod.
Ivor G Davies
As days get shorter and night stretches out.
Summer fades away and earth gets colder.
Soon, Oh too soon snow will again rule and
the earth will slumber under its folds.
Until then we enjoy the fruits of bounty
smelling the last of sweet summer flowers.
Crops stand ready in the fields for collection
Combined harvesters busily at work.
Fat stalks of golden corn, rye and barley
tied in bundles ready for threshing.
Seductive scents of apples waft
as down they are laid for storing.
Frosts now lay the land bare
as the leaves part company
some red, some yellow, others orange
they blow and scatter in the wind.
Trees looking stark and bleak gaze
o'er the stripped fields with snow sprinkling
the now barren ground and soon Winter
will once more rule in her glory
Gone now the lazy days of Summer
her flowers and perfumes distant memories.
Now the hues of colour are subdued.
And all around the land sleeps on.
An old childhood chum named Red Booker,
Fell in love and was married to quite a looker.
She caused men to stare,
But old Red didn't care,
Because everywhere she went, he took her.
An old childhood chum named Red Booker
Fell in love and was married to quite a looker
She caused men to stare
But ole Red didn't care
Because everywhere she went, he took her!
Warm winds clear the land of snow:
when daffodils start to show.
And as cold spells ebb and wane,
Winter's Ice Queen ends Her reign.
Leaves unfurl on every tree;
ice breaks up, and creeks flow free.
With each dawn, the sun shines strong;
night shrinks, the day stretches long.
Winter is fleeing the scene:
soon it'll be time for sunscreen.
But that's a small price to pay;
to get the kids out to play.
Grey clouds on a field of blue,
water, snowdrops popping through.
And songbirds soar in the sky;
a sure sign that Spring draws nigh.
To Trump's great delight
His parents were white
But just out of spite
Could researchers cite
An African knight
Where DNA might
Age milky white
To make it alright
For Blood-Quantum white
Or would that incite
A flight or fight plight?
Dawn sheds light on nebulous dreams
That dwell deep within silent screams
As fears dissolve into the light
Dreams perceived will yet be bright
Dusk's fading light in tangerine
Paints the horizon against evergreens
And distant orbs it then invites
To merge into the realm of night
Night then cloaks enlightened dreams
In a cocoon of ethereal extremes
And as they travel through the sky
They're darker yet till dawn comes nigh
In sorrowful drift
Its moment in time ceases
To our earth it falls
Nigh Night
A nigh night t’night,
Come mek wi go dung a Miss Jane.
Mek sure yuh wear something red
Cause wi gwen pass di cemetery before we reach Miss Jane
For duppy get mad when rum and drum a beat.
Cause when rum and drum a beat, duppy come from all bout pon di street.
Yuh never believe di amount a duppy dat meet an’ greet.
Woi! Yuh feel di cool breeze?
Wi deh near di cemit’ry.
Oonu walk fass! Cause dem dupppy yah bare face.
Mi head a raise, di spirit deh near
Kibba yuh mout’! mek wi hurry and pass.
Ah… ah… ah… ah…
A wah dat mi hear?
Dat mus be a man duppy,
Cause a dem have no fear!
Mi frighten suh till mi heart move up and down out a place!
Si di light deh! A one more corner, an wi reach.
Yuh hear di drum beat dancing through the tree leaves.
Di rhymes and riddims creating the melody of the beat
Causing duppy and living to stand to dem feet.
Dem yah duppy nuh need nuh cake soap fi bleach
Nor toothbrush fi brush teeth
Fi dem look’s natral
So be careful who you meet, kiss or greet
Cause duppy no longer walk only a night pan di streets.
Form:
I dreamed my way here
I’ve had my cringe moments
I feel pressure, I lose perspective
I’ve wholeheartedly failed
I misspeak, underthink, overreact
I try to do the right thing
the right thing isn’t always clear
I’ve tried to hold on
I’ve let go with grace
I’ve charged ahead
I’ve stepped aside
I self-sabotage, then try to do better
I’ve self-consciously retreated
I’ve stood up for others
I’ve backed down and apologized
I’ve rinsed and repeated
I’m a chameleon, but I’ve never been perfect
I’ve under-reacted to challenges
I’ve overreacted to the ordinary
I devalue likeability
I indulge the language of play
I share my human experience
I don’t know what else to say.
Silence morphs the call of falling dusk
Gathering under fiery skies,
Stilled leaves in somber silence hang
Moping at the darkness that plies.
Dusty paths the home-bound cattle plod
Syrupy chirping of birds in flight,
Smoke from the earthen ovens pause
Wistfully staring at twilight.
Frenzied bats eke out their weary awls
Urging the evening star to wait,
To let moon lord overnight,
And muse over their morbid fate.
Wind over the placid river brings
Low tidings for cicadas to cry,
Fathom the fragrant moonflower will
Need endeavour to pacify.
When vigil of stark skeletal boughs
Stand mournful over the hooting owl,
And the mist like a wimple veils
The nocturnal creatures that prowl.
Those who lie in cemeteries stark
Berate the mausoleums old,
Affording them scant room to move
Adding to their ordeals untold.
Crimson dawn will pale the darkened sky
For light to lug another day,
Darkness would need wait again
For dusk to come upon its way.
***********
The night is nigh with parting day
Winds blow slowly over land
As I plod homeward, my weary way
And sunset dips behind the man,
Far from the maddening crowds and stressful life
The pleasing anxious night is nigh
Leaving arms of warmth this blissful day
A kindred spirit shall be my mate
Let me see him at daylight’s break
And while the sun sets on my lawn
And as the brook babbles near my ear
My love will erase all my fear,
Gentle hands stroke my hair,
Heart of strength press me close
The more he gave, the less I spoke,
A slumberous sound and loving dreams,
I welcome night and the silent breeze,
The night is nigh, and I am pleased.
The night is nigh with parting day,
Winds blow slowly over land,
As I plod homeward on my weary way
And sunset dips behind the man,
Far from the maddening crowds and stressful life,
The pleasing anxious night is nigh,
Leaving arms of warmth this blissful day.
A kindred spirit shall be my mate,
Let me see him at daylight’s break,
And while the sun sets on my lawn,
And as the brook babbles near my ear,
My love will erase all my fear.
Gentle hands stroke my hair,
Heart of strength press me close
The more he gave, the less I spoke,
A slumberous sound and loving dreams,
I welcome night and the silent breeze,
The night is nigh, and I am pleased.