Long Black as night Poems
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Don't worry about her they said
Her bark is worse than her bite
But what they didn't know
Is that she used her claws to fight
Suddenly she changed before their eyes
The abusers stopped and stared
She had finally had enough
She would make them hurt and scared
She felt the anger boil and rise
Her soul turned black as night
She knew she would enjoy the chase
As the abusers all took flight
She would make them see
The hate through her own eyes
Make her the one they fear
With torment like their lies
She chased them through the town
Down alleyways and lanes
Chasing them towards the sewers
The water tanks and drains
She would show them helpless
Show them bullied and abused
She would show that people
Are not play things to be used
They sought the safety of the tunnels
But little did they know
That she would drive them forward
To the place she used to go
The black and swirling water
Looked like a giant eye
"Please make your last requests,
Its time to say goodbye"
She crouched down low beside them
In a predatory stance
"You could apologise you know,
I'll give you one last chance"
One girl dropped down on bended knees
Sobbed and begged for life
She felt her anger subside a little
Took her had off the hunting knife
The second girl just stared below
At the swirling water deep
And floods of regret and sorrow
Made her collapse and start to weep
The last and final girl
Decided to stand her ground
They faced each other solidly
Neither made a sound
The girl extended her hand
Towards the girl that she despised
And saw her breathing calm a little
The blackness leave her eyes
The girl took one step forward
Her fingers reaching out
Not knowing how this was to end
Or what it was about
Her fingers pushed through anger
Through layers of hate and lies
The nights of pain and anguish
The unheard and unloved cries
Her fingers touched the skin
So old and thin to touch
She felt the pain and sorrow
And finally knew how much
She stepped into the body
Crouched upon the floor
And felt the ice that froze her
Right to the very core
Together they moved to stand up
To approach the other two
This was when it had to end
The point that they all knew
Now the soul was shattered
In four distinctive parts
But they must learn to work together
For they don't have separate hearts.
Form:
A girl was walking through the night
Afraid and all alone
She sunk for moments of respite
Upon a blackened stone.
What flakes were these that sparkled bright
And flurried in the breeze?
What specks of gold did grace the night
And rest upon the trees?
Up from her perch she stumbled on
Into the silent black
But 'twas in vain, the specks were gone
So then she foundered back.
She found the stone on which she set
All laid with dust around
The stars of heav'n the earth had met
And blanketed the ground.
The stardust, now a handbreadth thick
Had melted from the sky
She saw a once sedate old crick
With flames now floated by.
She gathered stardust in her hand
And held it by her face
It hovered there, in ways unspanned
Held up by empty space.
Her face did glint with motes of gold
Her wavy hair did gleam
The stroke of twelve the townclock tolled,
Around her shone a beam:
She looked to see its molten source,
The sun had joined them too;
In place of burnished bronze its force
Was emanating blue.
With both her hands she caught the sun
And held him firmly there
She shook him gently just for fun
And threw him in the air;
"Oh, Sun, how come you left the sky
To be a little ball?
Wherefore from glory did you fly
And now art pale and small?"
Then said the sun, " The stars had left
They had a merry time
And all alone I felt bereft
So moved to sweeter clime;
Said he, "It was so cold and still
Without my fellow stars,
All scattered 'round upon this hill
As far away as Mars;
So here I came to be a ball
Of bright electric blue
My starry kin with wit appall
And have a chat with you."
"Oh, Sun, you do not understand!
The day is black as night
Now who will fill this darkened land
With rays of warmth and light?
"And what of you?" she asked the dust
That sparkled at her feet.
"Back to the sky I think you must
Your twinkling forms repeat."
"Now truth we see," quoth ev'ry star
In one according rhyme,
"Back to the sky we'll roam afar
Until the end of time."
Then said the sun, "Oh, now I see,
I thought that I was trite
So back the way I was I'll be
To shed abroad my light."
Then off they rushed in waves of flame
Their rightful place to gain;
No man can e'er the heavens tame,
That surely isn't plain.
Whene'ere alone in dark of night
That girl recalls her friends:
And now I think the time is right
So here my story ends.
~Written December 25th 2012
What If There Was No Tomorrow? - The Polar Ice ‘Cap’
- this time it’s burnt and curled upon a new head. The
sweet smoke of his sugarloaf effigy black as night,
surrounded by a material red trim, below Parliament houses
blows political greed into fiery smouldering smithereens –
then it floated and landed after years, drifting, onto
the crown of a man: a business man portraying
wealth and class; here it sat above suit and below sun. The
American dream swirled with scotch and the tip of a bowler,
only for the same piece (restyled of coursed) to later sell for
pounds to make the pupils of any impoverished person pop:
his Hamburg with a knowing dent in back, how it span and
spun from black to grey and back again around Hill’s peak
to be dyed again and tilted just so. Now it’s pillbox pink and a knitted
O of a name/shape-sake that covers her head where her husband
had a target upon his. Watermelon-pink colour dye actually: the very
same fruit palette of brain cradled in her hands at high speed.
This latest star attraction of Burgdorf’s no doubt was, decades
prior, nothing but a mix of lifeless green and sludge brown from
grass and cud - metallic dead daises ducking over No Man’s
Land. A Brodie: styled on a not-yet-pulled pin grenade atop
beads of sparkling sweat, dripping slipping salt where now
a pedal controlled sewing machine stabs and pins sequins into
veils that hide brides with (it must be said) the same success
that protected Fawkes’ Plot or Churchill’s reputation or
Jackie’s husband and the slaughtered soldiers’ skulls - but
still the accessories twist into fascinators fancy enough for
mothers to weep below, only to find the box dish or bow
to be knocked akilter during the traditional bouquet mad
dash - then up – up – up! into the air before landing anew,
refreshed as a Gatsby or Hijab, perhaps a Trilby or Zucchetto;
better yet, the Boater or Sailor we’ll need when the hat that covers
all our heads smoulders and peaks when next dented and melted: a
loose grenade we can’t be veiled from, nor refashioned nor restyled
when the next season’s must have
will be a copper and bolt
protective Diving Mask
for the drowning tomorrow
from The Polar Ice 'Cap'.
2.
Off into the distance, total darkness,
to the right where all was light
Divinity thy beast is coming
from his land of endless night.
The thunder and the lightning playing
terrors own sweet symphony.
Darkness, which is soul destroying,
brings the man of dark to thee.
And then the beasts do scream in anger,
for the vengeance of the light is near,
summoned by an angel cry,
many of the night shall sing death's song.
As God's anger strikes the earth,
upon lightning bolt Unicorn falls,
black as night, horn ivory,
upon its back, a figure of black.
The Arlaghs, they who never fear,
kin to wolf, they never run,
head of wolf, body of man,
legs of wolf to speed them on.
Always toward enemy, ne'er retreat,
kill all mortals, eat of meat.
Red the day when Arlagh strikes,
blood, their nutriential drink.
Fear spread through the mortals that fled,
they saw the signs, all was lost.
A master of the darkest night,
now come to earth but what the cost?
Would womanhood pine away,
at the closing of the day?
Would man be done, ne'er to return?
Would their flame finally blow out?
Riding forth across Badicha's plain,
unicorn and man of night.
Straight as the errant flame,
they both do come into the light.
Sword, Utamol in his right hand,
held aloft to the child of light,
in salute to beauty's all,
in salute to woman's power.
They do turn to face a foe,
the Arlaghs they begin to come,
ground will shake where e'er they go
they do come upon the run.
Come then forth to meet thy fate,
Hounds of Hell, no hesitation,
for Utamol does softly call,
the sword of blood will have you all.
"Stand alone and you shall die."
an Angel cries from way up high.
"I stand here, let any come,"
The dark man said, before the gates.
No man came, he stood alone,
Arlaghs forming as they ran.
The charge was coming, the blood red noon,
A Dark Man did await his fate.
With slavering and gnashing teeth they came,
the Arlaghs on their deathly charge.
Both Unicorn and man of night,
Moved not from where they stood.
Silent as statues standing there
both ready for the blood-letting to come.
Man and Unicorn, single heart, single brain,
standing under a now darkening sun
To Be Continued..........
CHAPTER 7b (Ipiki, continued)
Which had shared their lofty tree-nest
Now the bats abruptly vanished
But for one unlucky creature
Which the hunting snake now swallowed
And, its scaly torso flexing
Disappeared into the foliage
Which regained its normal greenness.
One black leaf however drifted
Gently down onto the sleeping
form of Matto, who now waking
Saw this gossamer-like object
Resting on his naked midriff
Soft as air and light as moonbeam
Black as night, now slowly stirring
Matto took it very carefully
In his hand and looked more closely
"It's a baby bat", said Kwona
As the family huddled round him
Then the dark winged creature fastened
Tiny claws round Matto's finger
Han and Kwona then permitted
Matto to adopt the batling
For a second time extending
Succour to a helpless orphan
So they talked about the naming
Of their Pipistrelle companion
He was cute and very squeaky
So they called his name "Ipiki"
By their keen young ears the children
Heard the language of Ipiki
But their parents could perceive no
Inkling of his high-pitched chirping
Matto made himself a necklace
Woven out of fibrous fern fronds
From the necklace hung Ipiki
Sleeping as they walked in daytime
Then, since bats are nighttime mammals
He would wake up in the evening
Matto fed him grubs and insects
Which Ipiki snapped up gladly
After several days, at sunset
As the bat bestirred, it spread its
Filmy wings and fluttered skyward
Circled several times near Matto
Then crash-landed in the bushes
And his maiden flight was ended
But the bat grew fast and strengthened
Gaining skill and flying further
Matto found that soon Ipiki
Had no need of finger-feeding
With his bat acoustic senses
He could capture flying insects
In the darkness. Thus at nighttime
As the family ate together
And retired up to their tree-nest
Then Ipiki would awaken
Stay some moments as the children
Cradled him between their fingers
Then would flutter through the night air
Circling round their tree encampment
Keeping up a kind of vigil
Near the family through the night hours
And from that time on they suffered
Less and less from biting insects
When the Moon moves between the Earth and Sun
then comes a rare happening that can stun,
above all a syzygy alliance,
the term from the Greek in astro-science.
Once solar eclipses in history
were viewed as a frightening mystery.
Cultural superstitions abounded
as rumors spread far and wide unfounded.
Many imagined the light was devoured
by dragons or beasts super empowered.
Herodotus wrote of one that brought peace
and made warring factions their battle cease.
The Chinese of old took drastic measures
against stargazers for drunken pleasures
that altered their senses though being skilled;
hence they failed in prediction and were killed.
A poem was penned to commemorate
the court officials’ miserable fate,
which stated, ‘though sad, it was risible
that they could not spy the invisible’.
The death of England’s King Henry the first
prompted the notion of omens accursed
for rulers; ‘twas just after one had passed
described as that “hideous darkness” vast.
There are tales and legends to tell galore.
But later on, researchers learned much more.
Curiously, helium was revealed
because of our star’s disk being concealed.
Yet the one that is “most important” called,
made Einstein famous, and left him enthralled,
was the shadowing of nineteen nineteen
when theory entered the proven scene.
Eddington relativity tested—
which to this day has never been bested
as general cosmic model supreme—
showing warped spacetime through bent starlight scheme.
In the total umbra it’s black as night
till the exiting shroud sets the Sol right.
At starting and finish as it proceeds
occurs the spectacle of Baily’s beads
with a ‘diamond ring’ that’s an extra boon
resulting from the terrain of the moon;
thereupon that stellar phenomenon
is gone, though its memory lingers on.
Thus, solar eclipses provide a chance
to astronomical knowledge advance
as well as to witness a great event,
one that is literally heaven-sent!
Then it’s back to our grinds and muddled minds
wherever our personal path unwinds…
~ Harley White
* * * * * * * * *
Poem composed for the occasion of the total solar eclipse on Monday, August 21,2017…
Walking lonely through the dark
In the night time I did embark
Upon a mission to clear my mind
Answer to questions I wish to find
I walk onward through quiet streets
My footstep noises aloud repeats
As I approach in the nightly dark
To my destination, the local park
Though its shady tree lined lanes
My mind wonders stressed and strained
And as my boot falls echo gently
My minds progresses differently
It swirls and curls and rages on
All concentration is withdrawn
To solve the riddle in my mind
To the key I’m currently blind
As I progress across the grass
My shoulder acquires a new mass
A crow there sits as black as night
Fixing me with its beady sight
I jump and start and this intrusion
Causing a stumble and contusion
But the crow it seems wants to stay
So my shoulder its weight will weigh
So as I return to my cogitation
This crow proved an aberration
It speak with a voice all gruff
And a manner that was quite bluff
It said in its own raucous way
That I was being rather fey
To let this matter of heart intrude
And drag so long with no conclude
I tried to shoo this troubling bird
Finding its gruff advice absurd
Who is this thing to offer opinion?
Surely it is the devils minion
The avian conscience would not loose
Just offer more words of seeming abuse
Telling me to lay this love to rest
That in this matter its advice is best
Failure to remove this nasty creature
Caused me to ignore the feathery preacher
I thus returned to my deliberation
Trying to recover my old elation
But my new friend continued to tell
That I was the cause of my personal hell
Thus he proceeded until at my door
When he return to his home once more
That night my sleep was trouble and light
With the voice of the crow ever a blight
His words slowly sunk into my brain
The gruffness was gone but the sense was plain
I awoke from my dream with clear mind,
Wondering why I had been so blind
I have been living in a world gone by
Missing the wonders of a sunny July
I thank that crow so noble and black
For finding my life and giving it back
I now move forward into the light
I will no longer walk alone in the night
Hail to the thieves
that retrieve
lost trees.
Hey! Where do you disappear?
Hail to the piercing taste of a pear.
Hey! Why do you gaze at me so?
I don't need reality unless it's mine.
Talk to me.
Talk to me.
Take your time and sigh.
See the world redesigned.
Then let it go.
Sell sunbeams in a crisis.
Talk to the stones that turn.
Touch the rhythm and burn with it.
Celebrate both victory and defeat.
See what's featured in the cosmic menu.
Among all the amenities I obtain you.
The art of grabbing without touching.
The art of dreaming without falling asleep.
The art of loathing without telling.
The art that picks the hip from the heaps
of all their winnings.
The art of elusive light.
The art of being close tonight
and disappearing tomorrow.
The art of 'have-a-nice-day'
with a finger on a trigger.
The art of getting miniscule
and then growing bigger.
The art that unites all nations -
the everlasting
misconception
of communication.
05/06/2016
(c) Maryna Tchianova 2016
Ukraine
Inspired by http://www.wikiart.org/en/rene-magritte/the-art-of-conversation-1950?utm_source=returned&utm_medium=referral&utm_campaign=referral
* * *
Sacred and profane love by Titian (1514)
Love divine
How it burns when it falls from the sky -
how it hurts when the water is done.
How it rains with the words half-denied,
When the world looks for fabulous suns.
How it aches when the feeling's away
from the roads that are fast and are clean.
How it roars when the lights are insane,
how they fatefully touch our skin.
How I pray for this love not to fade,
How I look for your eyes in the woods,
How we crave for emotional shade,
In each other we find our roots.
Profane love
When the touch dumbs us down -
when the shadows arise,
When in passion whe drown,
when there's evil disguised.
When your kiss, black as night,
slowly turns on my key,
when your arms, full of might,
burn my fragility,
When we're fruitful and hot,
when we're lost in our dreams,
When we're tied with love's knots,
So profane we might seem.
06.05.2016
My uncle said he’d seen a dog,
Come down his path one day.
But not aware who’s dog this was,
He shouted, “Go Away!”
The dog looked up at him, then left,
It ‘faded’ out of sight.
He then knew who his guest had been,
This dog was black as night.
This was the dog that visits us,
At times when death is near.
To help guide those who leave this life,
The ones that we hold dear.
While walking down her garden path,
My auntie died next day.
The warning that my uncle had,
He’d tried to turn away.
An operation had gone wrong,
Our daughter was in pain.
Nothing that the doctors knew,
Could make her well again.
Then when we visited one night,
We shuddered when she said.
A big black dog was also there,
And playing ‘round her bed.
But she seemed a little stronger,
Though we knew whom she had seen.
We thought he’d told of someone else,
And wondered why he’d been.
Alas, it wasn’t meant that way,
That week our daughter died.
I know within my heart of hearts,
Our dog would be her guide.
For many years he’d not been seen
Though others close have died.
Maybe, he only comes to those,
Who need him by their side.
When sitting in a meeting room,
A stranger came to me,
And said he had a message,
About something he could see.
Two dogs he said, were by my side,
Both looked as black as night.
Although the little one looked old,
His fur was tinged with white.
Again I shrugged this message off,
I didn’t think at all.
But while we were on holiday,
We got that dreadful call.
Our ‘Lucky’ had just had a stroke,
Our son was going ‘round.
But when he reached the kennels,
Just his earthly shell he found.
Three times within our memory,
Our spirit dog’s appeared,
To warn us of the saddest things,
That we have ever feared.
But though he is an omen,
That we’ll lose someone we love,
It comforts us to truly know,
He’ll guide their path above.
This dog had been my grandma’s dog,
I knew till I was five.
But now she’s living proof to us,
That all our souls survive.
Ivor G Davies
One Horse Town
The boardwalks full of people only two stood in the street.
The showdown of the century counting down to thirty feet.
Black Bart said this towns too small for you and I to both be in it.
Today's the day we found out which one of us will win it.
Handy Randy took a spit and looked up at the sun.
He said yep, the truth be known by the time this day is done.
A hush fell over the town folks mother's hid their children's faces.
The two men in the desert sun walked just a few more paces.
The sheriff called out that's close enough! I'm a countin down from three.
Who's the best in all the west this whole damn town will see.
When he called that magic number Barts face turned black as night.
Handy Randy drew his pencil and they both sat down to write.
Randy wrote of springtime rain and the sound of childrens laughter.
Bart penned a verse about Randy moving on to the hereafter.
Then Randy wrote another verse so quick he made it rhyme.
The sheriff said time is up Bart finished just in time.
They filed into the saloon and they ordered up a drink.
While the judges read their writings and told them what they think.
Again the crowd grew quiet as they eagerly watched the show.
Old Hank from the hardware store said he really liked Barts flow.
The blacksmith from the stable stood up and cleared his throat.
And in almost a whisper said I loved what Randy wrote.
Bill that ran the old hotel said there ain't use denying.
My wife is a Randy fan but she always ends up crying.
The barber from on down the street trembled neath Barts gaze.
He said Barts poetry's kinda dark but he likes it anyways.
Some town folks started clapping you could hear the women sigh.
For the third year in a row the judges ruled a tie.
For some folks love the softer side while there's some that like it deep.
And not all men do their dreaming at night while fast asleep.
Once again the call was made the choice was handed down.
Black Bart and Handy Randy stay in this one horse town.
Edwin C Hofert