‘Tis now the very witching time of night’
said Hamlet, referencing the dead
Whatever was going on
in William Shakespeare’s head
In realms of dreams, where magic is born in the late evening hour,
A hidden paradise in whispers and in the descending moonlight's power.
Beautiful settings, love like an old perfume, beyond description,
Amber eyes burning with vows in the fire of a dream's depiction.
On this earth, seductive and full of love, we lose our senses completely,
Shadows of the past dance with longing, reminding us of love sweetly.
The summer night binds us in sweet kisses and uninterrupted whispers,
How many memories hide in words, how many unseen longings it whispers.
We lose ourselves in time, carried by the wind singing eternity's song,
The enchanted soul flies like a bird seeking freedom all along.
Sweet smiles on corners of dreams, painted in rainbow hues that last,
The sweet torment remains forever, like an echo of unending longing from the past.
Night of dreams, lost paradise, sweet love that envelops us with ease,
We, lost and dreaming, with hearts full of immortal longing to seize.
A decision had to be made
Would he be in on the mission or not
Weighing the risks versus the possible rewards
Peril at every twist and turn, the path was fraught
Zero hour fast approached, but he was torn
Many had bitten the dust, he was warned
Yet others did not merely survive
They swore to a man that they were reborn
At the last possible second, he exclaimed, I’m in ~
"God protect our holy love, keep us from sin”
The clock at tick-tock - appears a flower
On the Precipice of the Midnight Hour.
Green eyes scan the darkest blue; and brown eyes,
On the Precipice of the Midnight Hour.
Fuzzy figures all about the dusk-ing
On the Precipice of the Midnight Hour.
Brown spots on leaves; and Autumn wrinkled skin,
On the Precipice of the Midnight Hour.
Fateful showers begin with lightning-will.
On the Precipice of the Midnight Hour
The poet, wary, very still, shivers
On the Precipice of the Midnight Hour.
noon’s furnace: asphalt shimmers; air—thick, slow—
cracks open. cicadas drill through stagnant gold.
a sprinkler’s hiccup-hiss: the pavement’s glow
un/curls in steam. the hydrant’s shout: uncontrolled.
children shriek!—a liquid burst of now,
popsicle rivers bleed; knuckles—sticky, green—
cling to handlebars. shadows stretch: thin, lean
across chain-link. each blade of grass—laid down—
bakes. but dusk? a match-strike: fireflies!—
the yard exhales jasmine; stars prick the bruised eaves—
porch swings gasp. the melted things—still writhing—
pool in gutters: chalk suns, lemon peels, dreams.
the silence hums. even time—soft, unspooled—
beads on your neck. and summer? stays. but cooled.
Waking up in the middle of the night,
heating the stove to make a pot full of tea.
Oh, how this silence soothes and calms me.
Looking over at the clock, it reads 11:11.
Embers crackle softly in the fireplaces light,
Settling into its warmth, everything feels just right.
Over my shoulders, a blanket is draped with care,
moments like these are beyond compare.
Every cozy hour is a treasure to keep.
If intent and actions
are cause and effect
and influence the future
what you give is what you get
and yet
what about children
caught in the crossfire
when very young
murdered in man's mire
they have not yet begun
to live
and love is all they have to give
so much for karma
symbolised by the lotus flower
but whereabouts is it
in their most needed hour
forsaken by fortune
they answered fate's call
tho' no reason not to do good
our own sad destiny awaits us all
The darkest hour comes with pain that's insane,
Excruciating, unrelenting pain.
The sobbing and gasping are so abrupt.
The heart is broken; the body gives up.
The darkest hour tries to take control,
Searching through the suffering for the soul.
Disillusioning evil tells a lie.
“Death will set you free, so let yourself die.”
Numbness begins to smother the feeling.
The chaos of your mind sends you reeling.
In time you know there must be a reason
To continue at least for a season.
Looking deep within, you search for the light,
A seed of love to help you through the night.
His very bones smell of ocean
beard lashed with its salt
On land, rubber legs awkward
he gapes and he gawks
But rig him up a mast
billowy sails to go with it
Prow boldly juts forward ~
Thirty knots an hour, his ticket
It's been an hour and ten days
The time since you went away
It's been a torture for me then
The feeling is like I'm a neglect
Everyday seems a dull moment
It's gloomy, I can't concentrate
I'm alone, I can't done my work
As if there's no life in all I see
The colors around me all dark
Every food I eat has no taste
All in my heart are foreboding
I drum my chest to say sorry
I cried a lot for my repentance
Each night is a sleepless night
It's a very long darkest silence
The day is short and no result
No friend to consult for shame
But comfort to my forceful self
My head bang for something
And wake me up from stupor
That's when I realize to myself
It's me alone can help myself
Sudden spark that live in me
I'm a self made man once again
It takes an hour and ten days
To heal myself and no one does
But me, myself and me alone.
Written: May 25, 2025, for Contest: Sponsored by: Constance La France
Quote: "There is a place where voices sing your beauty, A place where every breath carves your image in my soul. Words are a pretext. It is the inner bond that draws" By Rumi
***********************
Night's silky scarf adorns a lunar necklace sign,
Wanting her a ruby silk veil in a tuxedo design?
Translucent limbs disseminate flowers sublime.
I fondle her soft skin at the golden hour's time.
Swept by every idle breeze, as if there to soar,
Borrowing an unending sigh of time, dark core.
A revered but wild kiss, a glazed ember sways,
We will unite and break, dulcet love, swift ways.
Slightly higher down the breathless, winding path
Continue to inhale despite the windy day's wrath.
An aromatic ambrosia moistens deep, secret caves,
As I unzip my soul and bones below dark waves.
To quietly remember her fading, love-struck gaze,
Pouring dew on a beguiling night's enchanted maze.
Going to the town store,
during rush hour, a chore.
I ran to the door, fell.
Keys now lost on the floor,
but no keys could be found.
Oh, they're in my pocket!
At a bend in the road
One needs take utmost care,
More so on road of life.” By author
****************************************************************
Rush Hour
Hectic rush at day`s end
Everybody in haste
Traffic jammed at road bend
Proceeding at snail`s pace
Sound of sonorous smash
Splits my dream in a rash.
People bolt in mad race
through jammed streets cities brace.
Against time car lines crawl,
destined for a long haul.
Rush hour of frenzy match
makes us chase dreams to catch.
Mine is a wild spring step,
shoe heels dash leaf strewn path,
I spy wrinkled driver’s,
rueful rush hour grim mien,
from sleek chrome cars crawl as,
my drained feet moult traction!
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