Night Day Poems | Examples
These Night Day poems are examples of Day poems about Night. These are the best examples of Day Night poems written by international poets.
The grass is so green,
so very very green,
the trees with the shadows
are glowing.
today is the day,
my very last day,
soon I will be going.
those mountains so high,
so very very high,
the glaciers as they flow
are singing.
today is the day,
my very last day,
soon I will be going.
the Sun and the moon,
night morning and noon,
with the beautiful stars
are shining
today is the day,
my very last day,
soon I will be going.
memories and thoughts,
of love and sweethearts,
the many in my life,
I would be missing,
today is the day,
my very last day,
soon I will be going.
the rights and wrongs,
learnt through prayers and songs,
that many after me
will still be learning,
……
today is the day,
my very last day,
soon I will be going.
There was a moon over Paris—at noon
misplaced in space?
Awakened too soon?
noon moon,
I saw you floating alone
without a cloud in the sky
without a night of your own
And with the moon flying high above me
like cloud made of magical stone
I felt a wish I made celestially
might save me from being alone
noon moon,
I long for someone to care for
some one that I could be there for
someone to call all my own
.
.
Songs for this:
Blue Moon (feat. vGumiho) by Derivakat
Blue Moon by The Mavericks
Conceived from the first ray of light
The infant dawn opens its eyes
Too soon the sun bows to the night
Reluctant to say its goodbyes
The dusk knows the night's just begun
The moon knows it's just the night's pawn
The morning star nudges the sun
To once more awaken the dawn
They say the city’s full of tales
that prey on children come the night
I know not of urban fear
the forest is my home, my dear
A place where owls do hoot the night away
where cries ring out ‘til break of day
That curl the hair upon your arm ~
That teach you to pray you come to no harm
Moths have stopped circling the porch light,
their wings now are as stiff as old letters.
The night stretches thin ~
a slow dissolving of indigo into nothing.
Somewhere, a dog barks twice,
then remembers it has no one to call for.
The wind picks up discarded leaves,
flipping them over like forgotten coins.
A train sounds its horn miles away,
a ghost passing through the ribs of the valley.
I stand at the window,
watching my breath fog the glass,
then disappear.
The dark is patient.
It knows how to wait
for the first hesitant fingers of sun
to pry open the sky.
vortex where we’re caught
thought ego begot
but why fear the night
when we’re living light
morning...
winds sing
breakfast...
eggs blast
read news...
fruitjuice
gargle...
giggle
office...
don't piss
boss sore?
smile more
deadline ...
bent spine
noonwalk...
girl talk!
rush home...
cars roam
traffic....
honks peak
duskfall...stars call
arm slips...netflix!
bathtub...
rub rub
child's kiss...
such bliss
lamplight...
good night !
Night inherits day's endless chitchat,
shares it with the starlit canopy
holding imagination thereat.
She is on the wrong side of normal,
as if she's a mental amputee
or lives on a lonely sea’s atoll.
She fancies she is a butterfly
or a flower-chasing bumblebee,
but I reckon she's a damselfly.
Let her frolic in her fantasy,
ever in that starlit apogee~
forever night's lovely adoptee!
Here I sit on a big bookshelf,
I am here all by myself.
At night the lights go off,
the dust makes me want to cough.
Each new day the lights go on,
making me wish I was gone.
I see you walking by,
that makes me want to cry.
Oh please do not be shy,
pick me up to buy.
I just know you need a new book,
give me a look.
You will love what you see,
I can go home and we can have tea and brie.
This old lighthouse wants to say,
about the cold clouds of gray.
When it rained all night and day,
with the keeper wanting to pray.
Then the sun would come out to play,
making the blue sea a pretty highway.
This old lighthouse saw many ships,
some sailed by and some smashed like a souffle.
Sailing by were many birds of prey,
telling the old lighthouse it was like a cast away.
Old lighthouse even on Christmas day,
I can not getaway.
For the old lighthouse and keeper was it judgment day?
Why did the keeper want to stay?
Why not just run away?
The keeper knew he could not leave ~ no way,
telling God they both were not a runway.
The porch was warm that summer night,
Fireflies buzzing, swift and bright,
a moment held in memory’s gentle sight~
the day still lives in me.
My granddad’s laugh, a low, sweet roll,
the kind that settled in my soul,
a sound that made my childhood whole~
the day still lives in me.
The scent of cedar in the air,
his calloused hand smoothing my hair,
a tenderness beyond earthly compare~
the day still lives in me.
And though the years have slipped away,
I feel that porch in every day,
its quiet grace still lights my way~
the day still lives in me.
gossamer mists
dawn from nowhere
cross the lane,
sheer and diaphanous
they envelop the sunlight
in a web of mystery
the wind seeks to reveal
with soft puffs of breath
under the covers
day creeps to dusk
shadows stretch across the field,
drawing long dark veils
as threads, to strand the day's end.
They unravel their camouflage
to shield all the slumberers
trying to sleep
under the covers
Day begins
with determined light
same as the last—
Night draws quickly
playful Megan Tropy, uncanny companion,
collaboration born
fundamentally emergent like the Cosmos
and thought
order above disorder
neg-entropy over entropy
hence the name, efflorescent child
reversing fate
bundle of positive feedback
creative energy, overwhelms dull sustainability
step-dances over the crater horizon
this is the creature I met on Luna
one Earth-lit night
we talked, I transformed!
together we stood
behind chrome clouds our sun hid~
night appeared calmly