Best Nightime Poems
Listening to New
Age music
and relaxing late at night
Mellow sounds
remind me
that the time has
come to
put
away
thoughts
on paper
Realizing that
once
you
are
published
You've blown your cover
After inscribing
this ode
I will focus on the
pretty sounds
issuing
forth
from my TV
Let my mental state
become one
of peace
and
soon I will go
to that temporary death
called sleep
The time has come now
For night to spread its dark cloak
Peace in the shadows
Night-time
moving
stillness
My eyes wander, where window gazing, finds the crescent moon
rifting the darkness, and against it's light
a magnolia branch is stenciled, black and keen
Three stars are tangled in the topmost bough...
And because deep loveliness is there, I turn to you...
The profile on the pillow is that boy from long ago
I love watching you, lashes fluttering, and an almost smile
What are you dreaming, my love?
How could one explain
That love like this exists
Before coffee, on a December dawn, in a shadowed room?
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Contest: Nightime Musings.....sponsored by FJ Thomas
After a day of mixed hopes and disappointments
I lay down upon my old mattress
and watch
the television station where thy play new age music
and offer poignant quotes
sometimes they have Zen koans
Tonight I saw words
from Allan Watts
and Yoko Ono
there is nothing wrong with being a New Age person
Beautiful images on this channel
I just viewed clouds around a mountainside
Then a quote from Helen Keller - that remarkable woman
I will drift off into a pleasant sleep
as I keep the channel on
Enough of horrific news
I's find peace and wisdom
here in my home in New York's Lower East Side
It was her scent.
Soul, instantly rent.
Craving I could not resist.
A mix. Showered, skin sun kissed.
I stood with hand extended.
Engender nerve to be mended.
She pulled to embrace.
Gentle kiss brushing face.
No other, since.
Skin to skin that intense.
Lustier, bustier, smart and coy.
I believe I'll turn to wake my joy.
-Angel Fatale-
-contest entry "Nightime Musing"
i’m tired of being nice
of smiling and shaking hands
and clapping people on the back
my patience is wearing thin
i’m sitting at the kitchen table
lightening a another cigarette
my second pack today
watching the moon
fall below the hedge
and the stars making promises
they can’t keep
the silence is not my friend
tick tock bloody clock
my head postulates
anayalis and critictise
all the mundane lies
nobody cares about
thinking really is a fools game
taking you down strange lanes
with no warning signs
to say turn back you have gone to far
everyday i see people who never ask how or why
who just exist to be happy and free
and live peacefully in the vaacum of their being
i wish tonight that is me
moving into the night, i saw such a great sight
lifting my head to plee, what has been done to me
before i knew it, i was being held
by men of night, i couldn't yell
and just so quickly the grip breaks free, to see a gun pointing straight at me,
but how,who,and why
listen to the night
it whispers things, you don't want to hear
like your death being yelled in your ear
I wonder if
You hear my thoughts
I love you
With a thousand noughts
Invisible
Like a gentle breeze
Of affirmation
Rustles trees
I wonder if
Within your dreams
Affection flows
As living streams
Of hope and joy
Into your mind
As eyelids flutter
Undefined
I wonder if
As night revolves
You hug me
And all fear dissolves
For as you dwell
In distant land
In nightime world
I hold your hand
To skip and laugh
To sit and be
Content to share
Your company
I wonder if
Love, so terrific
Still lives beyond
The soporific
Without
the sun to shine
some slowly lose their will.
Some, however, thrive in darkness.
I do.
Listening to
New Age music
relaxing late at night
Mellow sounds
remind me
that the time has come
to
put
my
thoughts
on paper
Realizing that
once
you
are
published
You've blown your cover
and well, that's O.K.
After inscribing this ode
I will concentrate
on the pretty sounds
issuing
forth
from my T.V.
Let my mental state
become one
of peace
and I will go soon
to that temporary death
known as sleep
Night provides its own answer
to our dilemma
Our dreams are a puzzle
which we must piece together
We can dance the dance of joy
If we succeed in our work
From the dreamworld
come answers
From the dream world
come the truths we need
to succeed
in this perilous
and yet magnificent
world
There are some days when night crawls in
and I fine myself afraid
and alone;
darkness gives way to darkness
when I open my eyes.
The light has left your eyes
so what is leading me home now?
What is home?
Shadowy tendrils grip my wrist
burning along the scars
ghost pains.
I tremble, shake, trying to keep my will firm
but inside I can feel it building up,
and the monster howls at the cars of his cage
she is compliant
very willing to open the door,
the shaking increases.
Her voice continues to whisper inside my mind
outside, I suffer the silence
night remains dark glass around me.
I know inside
what letting the monster out
will mean,
I try to beg my mind elsewhere.
Yet feeding the fire, my memories turn to you
And she and the monster gather strength in my distress
"Please hold me," my voice begs in a broken tone
but the dark,
has no hands to offer solace with
simply encompassing me
with nothingness.
All around.
I continue to hope
until the buildup leads to an eruption.
A silent scream
tearing away at my vocal chords
with the pressure of
silence
feeling the weight of what it is to stay
silent
then to simply
surrender
to the scream.
She slips in between the cracks that begin to show
and opens the door to his cage
allowing the monster to plunder
through my veins
I can feel him,
the rush of blood past my ears,
he longs to get out, to be let free
to slide along my flesh
and taste the air
all through the jagged lines across my flesh
slippery red tongue tasting the air.
One, two, three, four, five, six,
white smiles leers back
from two subdued wrists
Our flesh smiles like the monster.
He takes his fill,
torn skin, blood, and gore
I am left to sink below the static numb
mixed black and white,
with the hue of red along the edges.
Erasing your fingertips.
Painting over your love.
The bruises no longer hurt, but the memories do.
Picked me up at 2, dropped me home at 11. Of course, I’m only useful in the evening. At night you don’t want my presence. Sharing a bed for the night would be admitting I was a person.
You spoke in whispers, never saying what I needed to hear.
Scars will fade and I will forget.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The crow pecks at the moon's reflection~
a hunger older than the river.
Night folds itself into origami,
while the stars whisper
in braille.