woke at midnight,
As the clock struck right at two.
I felt the darkness of my room turn crimson red,
As dreadful thoughts grew heavy in my head.
I felt a shiver run down my spine,
And my blood turn cold as ice.
I felt ghosts lingering in the dark,
And my body go limp far too fast.
I felt myself losing control,
Even in my sleep.
I thought it was a dream,
But that eerie sound was far too deep.
And I found myself losing a game
I thought I had never lost.
As a shadow came far too close,
I felt my breath hitch in my throat.
Was all this fate,
Or a mystery begging to be solved?
Then I felt a ghost welcome itself into my room.
I got up, expecting only darkness,
But found...
A lingering mark.
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ the hour ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦
The nightingale's ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ is heard;
¦¦¦ is the hour -- ¦¦¦¦ lover's vows
¦¦¦¦ sweet in every ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ word;
And gentle winds ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦¦ music to the ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ear.
¦¦¦¦ flower ¦¦¦ dews ¦¦¦¦ lightly wet,
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ sky ¦¦¦ stars are met,
¦¦¦ on the wave ¦¦¦ deeper blue,
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ in the Heaven ¦¦¦¦ clear ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ softly dark, and ¦¦¦¦¦¦ pure,
¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦
As twilight melts beneath the moon ¦¦¦¦¦
(Blackout of It Is the Hour by George (Lord) Byron)
T'was a sorrowful midnight
the moon paints your name
in her twinkling array
Her starstruck children
weaving mystical metaphors
of silvered symphonies...
How strange it is,
forgetting the hoarseness
of your starless voice
as the world drapes itself
in pearlescent pools of moonshine
Isn't it strange?
How hushed rhapsodies sing
their shadowed verses of
your whimsical warmth
Wrapped in velvet-dark echoes
of rubied regret
Forever I shall wait,
In a sorrowful midnight
Amongst starlight moonflowers
of what's become of us
I
A shaded lamp ¦¦¦ a waving blind,
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ beat of a clock from a ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ floor:
¦¦¦ this scene ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ horned, and spined -
¦¦¦ longlegs, ¦¦¦ moth, and ¦¦¦ dumbledore;
¦¦¦¦¦ 'mid ¦¦¦ page there idly stands
A ¦¦¦¦¦¦ fly, ¦¦¦¦ rubs its hands . . .
II
¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ we five, in this ¦¦¦¦¦ place,
At this ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ time, ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ in space.
- ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ my new-penned ink,
¦¦¦ bang ¦¦¦ the lamp-glass, ¦¦¦¦¦¦ and sink.
¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ I muse. ¦¦¦ why?
They know Earth-secrets ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ not I.
(Blackout of An August Midnight by Thomas Hardy)
the old clock stirs at midnight,
its single chime a trembling breath.
a moth drifts close as if to ask
what time remembers after death.
TARIFF TRADE STORY
INTO NEW TERRITORY
WHO WILL BE SORRY
When midnight turns the corner
another day will begin
but only time and tide can tell
what it holds within
for man's best laid plans
are made of smoke in the wind
on which his hopes and desires
are pinned
from a fading moon to a rising sun
dreams may be superfluous
for who's to say at the end of the day
what will become of us
Midnight mind moving
Mapping messy memoirs
Marking my misteps,
Mending my marrow manna
One letter
One lane
Your momentum matter of miracles.
"Please don't
make me
block you,"
he said
in spite.
Now why
would you
threaten me
with such a
good time?
If an Aries
ever tells you
this it's all
by divine
design.
Perhaps you
should live
a happier life
and be a bit
less uptight
"Twin flames"
are unreal
this we know
to be true
and right.
Who knows why
you're so
desperate for
a woman's fire
at night.
Your dress dazzling bright, my mind flying high, like a kite.
Beyond the clouds, into the starry night,
To meet the goddess’ might. Though, she just intends to fright.
Even with her pearly white light, her life is naught, but to plight.
However, I myself cannot seem to become her light, in the darkness of night.
Hanging 'round down Trenchtown
Bob and me we had a yearning
he only had to signify 'Rastafari'
soon Bob and me we were a'burning
jamming the live-long day
reggae music was a'fire
wasting the night away
as the moon looked on
playing on the waves
Bob and me we were free
he and me we were a'flying
while the world was turning
no woman no time for crying
no disturb Bob and me
it's only the midnight 'erb we're burning
He loved midnight coffee, midnight music
Played harmonica jams like there was nothing to it
Every note he played, his heart and soul ran through it
By: J.N.R Dutton
On starry, moonlit nights
Or those pitch black ...
These are the roads ...
I drive forth and back
My tailights and headlights
Go rolling through the mist,
Scattering newly dead leaves
With a turn of my wrist
Fenders ruffle the wildflowers
That grow high by summer's end,
Brushing them with wind ...
As I go sailing 'round the bend
The fog through my fingers flows
Cool, damp almost eerie to feel,
Sends a shiver along my bones
With one hand on the wheel
Time, it disappears out here
Old songs on the radio,
All around spin tones of gray
Driving as fast as she can go
Between midnight and morning
A lonesome hour for some,
Here you'll find an empty seat
If another soul wants to come.
Stroke of twelve banter down lanes,
madrigal of quaint shroud dark mystery,
lull between that veiled velvet lullaby,
crescent moon peep oe’r urban slumber,
boisterous beep beep car quiet piercing,
deep indigo curtain wrapped pine trees,
nightjar sky dive whilst emits eerie pitch,
oblivious to midnight’s terse timeline
Midnight
candlelight glow
softly illuminating
the inner chamber of her mind,
I’ll meet you there my love.
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