Long Dead of night Poems
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The Art of Acting
Step 1: Posture
Your posture is more important than you think.
The way you carry yourself can speak
Thoughts into the minds of others from miles away.
It can make them trust you more than they ever believed they would.
Step 2: Expressions
The expressions you portray can make those around you
Feel at ease or put them in a sense of discomfort.
If you do it well enough,
Even the toughest shells will crack.
Step 3: Actions
The actions you take can make the coldest gestures
Feel like the sun’s warmth in the dead of night.
If done correctly, the hardest pills to swallow
Can taste like the finest pastries
On a summer’s morning.
Step 4: Change
Every character needs a switch.
Some point in the plot
Where the intentions they once had, flip
And turn into a new goal for them to chase
Step 5: Endgame
Every story needs an ending.
Whether this ending is good or bad.
Whether it’s your desired outcome,
Or not.
Every story must end,
Even if you want it to keep going.
In the dead of night, under celestial vaults of deep silence,
The shadow of my soul intertwines with longing,
In a dance of stars, spirals of time and dreaming,
I hear my heart beating in rhythms of cosmic nostalgia.
Through the dark forests of the mind, I wander aimlessly,
On unseen paths, seeking meanings hidden beneath veils,
In a world of illusions, where shadows sing softly,
Trying to find the light that emerges from eternal chaos.
I breathe the scent of memories, like a blue incense smoke,
In a world of dreams, where reality unravels,
My self wandering through the labyrinth of time, hopeless,
Yet hoping to find answers in infinitesimal silence.
In the depths of solitude, I whisper magical words,
Rituals of solace, incantations from the forest's murmur,
I invoke the spirits of the night to reveal hidden mysteries,
In an endless search for meaning lost among the stars.
Time flows like an underground river, unheard, restless,
I carry my soul like a ship on seas of uncertainty,
Between the desire to understand and the need to lose myself,
In the eternal dance of love and endless longing.
In every moment, I feel the intertwining of our destinies,
Like silver threads in the fabric of the unseen universe,
And I wonder if in another life, on another star,
We will find the answers we seek, in silence, together.
There is beauty in your wild nature
You are the gay (happy C;) rainbow,
Painted vibrantly in the clear sky
Search for some wisdom somewhere peaceful
Don’t walk away…
I’ll take action to change
Who I was before…I didn’t mean to disturb you
That’s something I can’t ignore – there’s some healing in store
I wish you a good time,
Tryin’ to find determination in your heart
I know you’ll receive love when the time comes
You are curious to the core
Your strength is what I simply adore
There is strength within you
So, why are you so scared of the dark?
There is strength within you
Look up to the eagle for a fruitful flight
There is strength within you
You got to dig deep to find the gold
There is strength abiding in you
When I’m with you…we need to get along
As long as He notices our teamwork
I’ll be your flashlight in the dead of night
I’ll be there by your side forevermore
We’re on this bumpy ride
Don’t lose faith in the long run
You have strength inside and out
There is strength burning in your heart no doubt
Restoring might in your heart
~~~
In your heart
~~~
I always wonder, when a car drives past,
Where they are going, how long the journey will last.
Or who they are, the life they have had,
What memories they’ve had, both happy and sad.
I walk the main road, in the dead of night,
With streetlights oozing, their burnt orange light.
The car goes by, with headlights beaming,
A xenon light, bright white and gleaming.
It rolls on by, and into the dark,
To show bright red light, on passing trees bark.
Then it will appear, in my interested head,
Why the person is driving, and not in bed.
Why the person drives, on the lonely blue night,
Why comfort kisses them, through dashboard light.
I get into my bed, feeling some ease,
That people are awake, through the moment they seize.
Tick-tock. Tick-tock. That’s the sound of life.
Ever-ticking, counting down,
A soundtrack for our fleeting days.
We have this old Russian clock at home,
A rusty relic, its hands creaking,
Telling stories of a life lived and lost.
It stops sometimes.
Dead in its tracks.
No tick, no tock.
Just silence.
A silent echo of the silence that’ll greet us all.
That clock, man, it’s a damn prophet.
It whispers secrets in the dead of night: “Don’t wait.”
“Mend the broken bridges,?before they’re swallowed by time’s endless tide.”
Each chime is a reminder,
a punch in the gut:
“Tick-tock. You got work to do.”
I have unfinished apologies to give,
forgotten birthday calls to make, resentments to shed, and hearts to heal.
Because one day, the clock’s gonna say "Checkmate."
The final chime will fade, and you’ll be left with only echoes of “What if?”
Don’t let the clock win.
Turn your time into gold,
make each moment count,
mend what's broken,
love with abandon,
and embrace the dance of life,
before the music stops.
Red and white stripes...lights up our
confidence and pride for the early-
aged history of the USA...vibrant and
graceful with victory
Enlighten the eager eyes of many
US citizens - Americans -
enlightened with appreciation of
liberty and freedom of speech in
this cherished country; millions of
smiles exchange... we embrace the
meaning of change, which is a
challenging chore for many
Don't dismiss the American flag,
swaying courageously with spiralling
sympathy and serenity
Willpower is portrayed as the stars
in the dead of night - nightfall
catches us off guard!
Honor the incredible symbol;
introduce us to fantastic flight
I want to be as eloquent as an eagle,
endorsed in light
Time spent in America is a dream
come true literally
Elegance reigns upon the country
into my smile is painted with
gladness and awesomeness
combined
And forgive America's bittersweet
past - its history packaged into
school books
Never forget the positive side of life
- at least we have freedom and a
grand future in store - God's
Kingdom... let's pass this test!
Drive away the fear of missing out
on a wonderful event
Boldness is shown 100% on this
most magnificent flag of royalty and
brilliant... decorated with dignity
and confidence, meet by men's
hands...
Let me catch a glimpse of it every
dawn and dusk
Ultimately, our future will be as
warm and playfully benevolent as a
dolphin... going against the waves of
descending motion
Extreme mesmeric wonders and
enhancing jubilance in Miracles will
bestow upon US amd we'll be as
nourished as thousands of trees
after a rainstorm...and as they all
say, " After a storm there is a
rainbow"
Train whistles still call me
in the dead of night
recalling wanderlust
days of youth, tugging
something
inside me tight
Vacant curiosity of what
might have been
another place
another lifetime
remembering when
I was free, with
nothing to lose but
The Sadness
I carried overseas
(and back again)
like a bulky bag of
dirty laundry grown large
Older now, I thought I'd
done my washing
dried, pressed, folded
put away... And yet-
suddenly I feel that
familiar weight
on my back
gunnysack of Sadness
fraught with longing
daring me to break away
for destinations unknown
leave today- this
temporary madness
of suburban ways
____
Even though I'm pretty "settled" at this stage of life, train whistles always stir that restless part of me that refuses to accept that I'm too old to jump up & take off for 'regions unbounded' like I once did...
Late in the day or afternoon
From windows in our living room
We watch deer begin to gather
Leaping over fences in fields
Searching eagerly for their meals
To our front porch they meander
Mothers protective of their fawn
Will hide them in brush all day long
Clear skies or inclement weather
They watch us and nearer venture
On alert for signs of danger
Beginning March to September
Late in the day or afternoon
Unless noise scares them off soon
Some two to twelve whitetailed deer
Nibble tender sprouts of green grass
Or fresh-cut hay and sassafrass
It's common for them to appear
In gardens or fields of soybeans
Or frozen in our headlight beams
Which can cause us panic and fear
If it is in the dead of night
Or maybe right before daylight
Forcing vehicles to steer clear
May 14, 2018
Favorite Animal in the Wild Contest by Line Gauthier
Third Place
Sitting snugly on a smooth,soft slope
Surveying a stretch of sea eternally still
That moment memorialised in my mind
As the sun- sinking silence soothes the trees
Stand the monuments to shrunken lives.
The plots define within strict limits
The tales of beings whose remembrance
Provides what amounts to no more
Than their names ,ranks and serial numbers,
Their joys and sorrows only to be surmised.
Gloriously the sun bathes the glistening stones
Giving them their moment of glory
Resting softly upon the chiselled legends
And then plunged into the darkness
Of the dead of night
Until their resurrection with the rising sun.
You’ve been on a long flight, dear falcon, a spirit I chased through the dead of night.
Your feathers were meant for a joyful spring, but you gave me a dream of a sharper thing.
All I ever meant was to watch you fly.
The way you rise from the seabed with a heavy sigh —
a beautiful thing with no mercy left to give.
Where the ugly and the divine are forced to compromise,
you remind me of what it costs to live.
To remind us that nature is a violent sphere,
I watched you strike the water, tearing the fish I love.
My heart bled and screamed to intervene,
but I just stood there and let it happen.
Because to truly see you, to know what you mean,
is to put myself through hell.
I know how it feels to wear a merciless beak,
to carry the weight of a maker who built you to break at sunrise.
A silent suffering, the agony they call a gift,
the wretchedness of enduring the spark stolen from a sleeping god.
You carry the titan’s curse upon your wings,
punished for soaring where the holy trod.
Dragging our tired ambitions through these ugly realms,
I forget it all over and again.
In your wings unfurled I saw a solitude I crave to know.
Teach me half the wildness that your brain must know.
I would gather your lightless feathers and jump from the edge.
Such aliveness would flow from my lungs —
even if I knew it would kill me to fall,
I would wait for you, astonished and ruined.
You are alive in a way I will never be good enough to feel.
Oh, lovely mighty falcon, scorner of the ground,
all I ever meant was to see the flight you never made it through