Long Nightime Poems

Long Nightime Poems. Below are the most popular long Nightime by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Nightime poems by poem length and keyword.


Scrooge

When dark, the shivered sun of day,
now lose their spark and turn away
nightime cast's it's widow's hook,
and daytime, take's on, nightimes look.

Scrooge had lost his loving heart,
money stole, his golden spark
no thought's, with care, he played
his nephew though, was fill of praise,

He loved the thought, of christmas day
his spirits, it would raise 
With joy, a bundled spark of love,
he raced off, out into the park

My uncle, will you join with us
a christmas, I'll share with love
bar-humbug not I 
no christmas day, or pudding pie

What waste, upon, the world's frock,
you waste your time, with all that rot,
Bar-humbug not I. 
I will not waste, my time, that way.

I'll dot my I's and cross my T's
I'll make a living that's for me,
you are not rich, you are quite poor,
what right, have you, to help the poor

I'll turn away, I will not pay,
I do not want, your christmas day
but when, the days of love, have gone
I'll end up lonely, cold and wrong.
Form: Rhyme


Mind Games

Mind Games
Poem
Lionel Derbyshire

Pack away the day
Lay back lay back
Park..
The mind games
Is coming to play
It is nightime
What mystic awaits
Either horrible goblin
Or merry fairy
Wait the exit wounds
Here comes the game's
To mock and bother
And the mind 
Beguiles you as bait
The stay awake
Without sedation
The play begins with
Hallucinating images
Of awful characters
Weird and fierce
Attacking your repose
You are lost in bed

Game's the mind play
Happens at bedtime
Stops and robs our
Peace of mind
With suds of turmoil
In our dreams
Our spirit, our morale
Surrenders and
Tumbles in with certainty
On tricks the mind play
Now we fear sleep
40 winks in quarrel
I'm up
In the middle of the night 
Why the hell
Must we lose sleep
Because of sappy guilt.

Soul To Soul

When you look to the stars
as they glisten through summers skies
know that the reflection in your eyes
is my smile, spanning across the distance
feel my breath through sultry air
as our lips brush together again
touching through moonlit shadows
withn a world of dreams
in the hush of night
you hear my screams

you've seen my face
with the blink of nightime skies
countless are the times
and like the moon's full glow
you've come to recognize
when we meet outside a dream
one glance and you'll know me

the horizon is blushing
an end to night's passion
the dawn unfolds our dreams
another day falls upon us
perhaps this time
the time has come

wake my love
to the slight summer breeze
my soul bends towards you
with the newly painted trees
autumn's blush is upon us
the time has come 
for two souls to blend as one
an eternal dream now wakes
we are here at last
outside of dreams

Comes the Dawn

The hour past midnight
   as the clock taps seconds into minutes
   and restless, i toss in my bed.
The sighs and moans of listless
   in seeking rest and sleep
   while darkness grows in my head.
The lights of distant  houses diminish
   extinguished like the end of day
   drawing closure and silence to its noise.
Stars twinkle and faintly dance
   as the walls draw down
   around the world in nightime pause.
Gentle breezes tease and play the chimes
   into ringing clear and loud
  then hushed into the quiet stillness of early morning.
Dreams rise instructive, silly and scary
   as blackness begins to fade
   disappearing in the faint light of rising dawn.
It is the earth they say, that revolves
   but it is we, who awake and rise
   as comes the dawn.
© DM Babbit  Create an image from this poem.

Sunset

Beautiful sunset.
Earth meets the sea.
A time of wonder, a time of glee.
Children are at play.
Happy in the day.
Bejeweled and bathed in flickering light.
Lovers embracing, holding on tight.
Another day closing, the end of a dream.
Nothing remaining, it’s part of the scheme.
Kaleidoscope of colors will slowly die.
Even the fireflies don’t know why. 
The fires are lit and a new life unfolds.
Beyond in the night, moons light holds.
In the rising of the stars, the day will fade.
Nightime settles on our lonely glade.
Gone is the light, the dark closes in.
Only till morning a new day begins.

for beach blanket bingo 6/14/2011
also entered in all summer is in 7/10/2013 please disallow if previous contest entry is not allowed. 

Russell Smith
Form: Acrostic


Premium Member Nearly Done - Zany Zig Zag Five Style

~Nearly Done~
(Zany Zig Zag Five style)







Day is nearly done 



                     
                 Light is almost gone



It's another day


                           Time again has flown



Now is time to rest
 

                                  Relax cause nights here


Time to stop and pray


                             Give thanks for today


God hears our prayers 


                           He gives us blessings


Forgives our sins



                            He is so loving


Day to be thankful


                          From dawn to nightime


Moon is peering thru


                              Time to dream and rhyme.




Dorian Petersen Potter
aka ladydp2000
copyright@2010




March.07.2016



~Author's Notes:


"Zany zig zag five" is a poetry style created by Patricia Ann Farnsworth - Simpson.

The Greatest Show On Earth

When shadows of the evening fade,
    And earth she wears her darkest dress,
     It's magic time as stars parade,

     Like jewels, into jet inlaid.
     We gaze, as land and sky caress,
      When shadows of the evening fade.

       As daylight and the nightime trade,
       The world still turns, for this we bless.
        It's magic time as stars parade.
                
        Our moon each night will serenade,
        Her timeless flight, for loves success
        When shadows of the evening fade.

        The milky way's a silver braid,
        Like diamonds sparkling in a tress.
        It's magic time as stars parade.

        The zodiac, earths rich brocade.
         This bracelet , charms us with finesse,
          When shadows of the evening fade.
          It's magic time as stars parade.


   I told Jan Allison this was the first poem i had ever written.
   I was mistaken, recently i found an old school exercise book,
   With a poem i wrote in 1951 aged 11. It was named  The Tramp.
   So i entered this on Poetry Soup also.  Regards George.

     8 / 31 / 2017.
sky

Nightime Overload

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

Premium Member Engaging All Senses

Written: June 24, 2026, for a contest sponsored by Natasha L Scragg

Quote: "If the doors of perception were cleansed, everything would appear to 
man as it is, infinite." By William Blake 

"Note: If we define perception to include transcendence, intuition, and the process of abstract meaning, we ultimately consider Spirit as the human sixth sense"

                               ******************

Sight 

The sky soars over sycamores above— 
Amber light oozes over foliage & cove
A web of shadows weaves in stone.
The leaden hand of dusk settles in hush.
Eyes drink the amber evening's glow—
Remember, sight traces the soul's flow.

Sound 

A sighing symphony thrums in the grass,
And birds croon their nightime requiem—
Wind dissolves to a sighing minstrel's song,
The river's pulse falls, soars, and swells—
With every ripple, a true voice tells—
Remember, pitch lets us feel—loudness dwells.

Smell

Café hallway emits the scent of roasted beans.
Velvet bitterness, and draft of warm balm.
A panacea for weary spirits.
Bearing salt sobs from ocean's eternal call.
Scents rouse the soul from dormant sleep—
Remember, scent rouses souvenirs from ash.

Touch

Wooden tables rough with mercurial grain,
Stone stairs under roving hand—lost in touch, 
Wind, a feathered touch soft as a bird's wing, 
Pressing, melting, morphing against skin.
Clearer than words, touch conveys fact—
Remember, touch and grace nurture men's mood 

Taste 

Cappuccino foam, pure alabaster gleam,
An astringent elixir dissolves into sweetness. 
Rhythmic throb of each tongue's caress
A perpetual delight, a lament for oblivion.
Each sip recalls summer's golden light—
Remember, taste maps food and drains.

Spirit  
 
All senses join in a nexus of now.
Knitted with time, bursting with life's vow. 
No lack here, no abyss, no plough—
Spirit fulfills yin and yang—limitless sky.
Only abundance of presence here,
The ardor of being, the breathing flame—
Remember that soul transcends name.
© Sotto Poet  Create an image from this poem.

Dna

DNA

I saw a touch of red one day;
Upon the forest floor;
I thought of Dwarfs and Dragons,
And exciting tales of yore.

I don't believe in Fairies;
But I fancied some wee thing.
Might clothe itself in petals;
And sit awhile and sing.

But these are twilight stories;
Lost in the mists of the glen.
Born from a pagan culture;
Lost, not to be found again.

I tarried a while in the evening,
By the Druid's old Oak tree.
And thought of our one true Father;
Who brought the truth to me.

The moon shone down in the forest,
And danced among ancient trees.
And I thought of kind Jehovah,
Who showed his grace to me.

I am proud of where I came from;
A strong and war-like race.
But for better things we battle now;
And in a better place.

For God is fond of Warriors,
And He won't back down from a fight.
When the cause is just and Gracious;
And we wrestle for what's right.

I lay on my back in the grasses.
And said," God, I like your Moon".
In the stillness of the nightime;
Morning came much to soon.

We are who came before us,
And who we choose to be.
They aim the arrow, but where it lands;
Is up to God and me.
Form: Rhyme

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