Nightfalls Poems | Examples

Silence Listens

Silence listens to tremors of twilight,
spilled across shorelines bathed in lilac,
awaiting the soft sinking of the sun ~ 
soaked in storms of heavy heartbeats,
a Braille of dreams, a touch of secrets,
      like the wind that feels and follows,
the cracks within the crevices of the moon ~
a ballerina lost in the music of grief.
Perhaps lips of horizon could taste,
        savor, and drink in stillness, 
when the world ceases to cherish kindness,
love that rests in the lungs of the skyline,
where sighs of stars reveal the veiled glow~
unspoken reasons written in quiescence...

But can the dusk trace the weight of trying?
This mind is a nightingale,
        featherless ... forever restless,
held by ripples between the birth of hope ~ 
the shattering of nightfalls ~
                swathed in numbness…

Vanilla Visions

When the 
  moon muses 
to the 
  melody of memories, 
roaming wisps 
   of vanilla gently 
flow through 
   space and time.
Your voice 
  echoes through 
 scintillating 
   sheets of 
   unwavering waves,
like lullabies laced 
   into silver nightfalls. 

Within my 
   mourning sight,
invisible feathers 
    form into
clouds appearing 
      as wings,
swiftly swerving 
   and reflecting
perfumed “ forget-me-nots.”
A reminder 
   that you’ll always
be gracing our horizons 
from 
  dusk till dawn.

I’ll savor your
    memoirs within
pastel colored pages of 
  my purple journal.
I’ll recite 
   your favorite poem, 
like 
  starlight over groves 
of 
  silk and ebony.

Tomorrow before
the sky 
  tumbles down,
let the 
  sunflower stillness speak.
When these
   tears are unlocked,
  rain serenades symphonies
of 
  sentimental seconds,
lost to the 
  ticking truth 
  of fleeting
grains from 
   sinister silence. 
You’ll feel my words 
  rising and 
    reaching 
     the seventh sky,
beyond unwritten 
   woes and throes, 
as you 
   sway upon a 
golden swing 
  engraved with
diamond dusts 
  and 
daphne dreamcatchers.

Reflections of God - Contest

Reflections of God
I feel God’s presence when walking o'er hills
In nodding heads of golden daffodils
In fields of green and crystal waterfalls
In trees standing proud, statuesque and tall.

I hear God in vibrant sounds of the woods
In murmurs of the breeze and babbling brooks
I find Him in the glow of risen sun 
Fresh days and fresh pages to write upon.

I sense God's love flow through charmed symphonies 
In enchantment of choral melodies
I seek Him in the dewy morning mist
In the sky when it has been rainbow kissed.

God’s revealed in roosters crowing refrain
In rain dancing upon the window pane
I rejoice in nightfalls scenic display 
Stunning sunsets taking one's breathe away.

There's not a fragrant rose in June that blooms
Nor stars twinkling brightly around the moon
No clouds adorning the canvas of sky 
That doesn't send reflections of God on high.

In the morning I will sing of your love...

* * * * * * *
19th October 2020

Your Personal Favourite Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: L Milton Hankins

Reflections of God

Reflections of God
I feel God’s presence when walking o'er hills
In nodding heads of golden daffodils
In fields of green and crystal waterfalls
In trees standing proud, statuesque and tall.

I hear God in vibrant sounds of the woods
In murmurs of the breeze and babbling brooks
I find Him in the glow of risen sun 
Fresh days and fresh pages to write upon.

I sense God's love flow through charmed symphonies 
In enchantment of choral melodies
I seek Him in the dewy morning mist
In the sky when it has been rainbow kissed.

God’s revealed in roosters crowing refrain
In rain dancing upon the window pane
I rejoice in nightfalls scenic display 
Stunning sunsets taking one's breathe away.

There's not a fragrant rose in June that blooms
Nor stars twinkling brightly around the moon
No clouds adorning the canvas of sky 
That doesn't send reflections of God on high.

In the morning I will sing of your love...

* * *
19th October 2020

Swift

White rapids rushing for the falls,
Morgan horses loosed from their stalls,
From fragrant sunsets to nightfalls,
Songbirds answering southern calls.

Precious moments of golden hours,
Butterflies midst cherry flowers,
Rainbow's appearance with colors,
Sun and silver moon encounters,

The time it takes for love to grow,
The time it takes for winds to blow,
Shooting star in a night's solo,
At twilight of sunset's sorrow!

Cactus In Bloom

As Hedgehog-type cactus in bloom,
With claret-cup desert perfume;
Red-orange petals
On top of nettles-
I guard with my sharp, thorny, broom.

I'm hardy, resistant to clime
In weather where sunshine is prime.
Yet, still thrive in cold
When nightfalls unfold;
A mainstay for mundane, sublime.

My flower is tender and smooth
As velvety surfaces soothe.
My buds, I protect
With me, they connect-
And nurturing them, they improve.

Yet, thorns are my standby defense;
Protecting my blossoms- intense.
My keen spears await
To keep safe our fate-
And predators- anxious and tense!


July 9, 2020

Premiere Contest: The Flower, The Thorn, Or Both
Sponsor: Chantelle Anne Cooke
Theme: "You are the flower, the thorn, or both."

When Things Eaten Eats Us

They told us to dream, 
but there is this brand of dream
that is hard to imagine ... So, I'm picturing ... 
and in this will-o'-the-wisp, I become 
Desmodus Rotundus,  
Vampiro en el grottos; 
a travel pig for the mattock
pruning the roots of the people.
First off, I  did not open up like eateries 
... but I've watched senseless thoughts 
eating what they should never eat, 
rubbing their bellies to go home and discontinue,
but this was just the first wave.
At nightfalls, I scour the darkness
in the forbidden of Wuhan, sucking everything disagreeable. 
I am saturated with wicked warranties, 
nothing outrageously seducing, but brutally illogical.
I was horrified when society looked me dead in the eyes
before bringing down the meat cleavers.
They display me as Paniki to plan their murders,
they open up and invite me in, flesh into flesh ... 
and flesh to flesh I swear to share
what I've buried in me as disasters. 
There are souls more neighborly, 
I hid what I portioned quiescent in their organs.
Only a mucous analysis notices it ... waiting ...
to strangulate the defenseless.
Life is brittle; it often falls and smashes the big noise.

Sunshine and Showers

Sunshine and showers; grey clouds and rainbows.
Woes vanish, and then, again our pain grows.
Our happiness wilts, and then again flowers.
Grey clouds and rainbows; sunshine and showers!

So on and so on, our pathways will wend -
some paths beginning where others’ paths end.
Mornings to nightfalls, and nights to each dawn,
our pathways will wend so on and so on.

Into centuries, from months and through years,
we keep passing on our foolhardy fears.
All that we’ve gleaned drifts on with the breeze.
From months and through years into centuries.

Can love and peace grow? God alone knows this.
In this life or the next, will we find bliss?
All that restricts us! When will we let go?
God alone knows this. Can love and peace grow?

Feb. 20, 2018 for Robert Haigh's Sunshine and Showers Contest
(This is using Swap Quatrain form, created by Lorraine M. Kanter)

Lapse of Existence

As nightfalls come to fruition

Leaving room of conditions

For dreams to strive

And before dawn breaks

Memory ceases to create

So to mediate

Our corporal world

Into transient capacities

Of unborn fallacies

To mitigate now’s journey

Into sanctuaries bearing

All fruits of now’s nativity

In proximity to the ability

Of mystical remnants

Encompassing clear disordinance

When no clue of commandant has risen

To prove indifference

To whom

No one, not here, not now

As priors fall apart

In the discard of somber triumphs

Where cyclical is met first hand

Unlike tombs

Where nothing is apparent

And the rest

relies

on wonder

-Salvador Martinez

Couplet

Storm rages brimestones   from ages to ages.
    The earth quakes from its foundation,flakes of hell erupts from the depths beneath.
   Seed of discord blossom
  In the very cord of the society as nightfalls in    soweto  forestalls the dawning of a new era.  
Blaming mankind's curiosity or nature's complexity.



This is my first attempt on couplet,critics are welcome to air their minds.

Easing Summer Into Fall

A thick fog wraps it tenacles
Encapsulating all
Visibility limited
Floats summer into fall

As the autumn sun rises high
Its warmth dries and heats 
But less warmth and humidity 
With earlier nightfalls

The crickets early this morning
Serenaded the moon
Knowing soon their last love song sung
Will be crooned in quick tune

Doves still sing romantic love songs
At just the crack of dawn
Soon their mournful sounds will quiet
They'll rest all winter long

Summer's end brings some sadness now
Winter's cold, frost, and rain
Long cold nights to remember you
When in great strength did reign  

Sponsor: Francine Roberts
Contest:Summer's End
Written: August 28, 2013

My Beautiful Bride's

Curious, a drop of orgone dusk
Making way to peek amid that 
These curtains; hush this breath 
Rising in slivers their, delight..
A manifold cat crowing with 
Blood dripping from the vine
Candlelight shadows and the clock 
Chimes black rubies twined atop 
Pentagon lines vanilla incantations 
Silk desires, parting perfect red lips 
Stoking this fire; deep the moans 
Bewitching cradles resting now 
The dawn which waits within
Her velvet charms; love, set ablaze... 
Nightfalls curious drop of time
Beyound the curtains in that sublime
Whereupon her bosom she does lie
Casting spells while taking tithes
In this my heart they surely know
Outside their window, a proxics cat 
Does crow; aneath blood as blue rubies
Dripping from vines; such, silk incantations.

My Beautiful Bride's

A curious drop of organe dusk; making way to peek amid the curtains....

Hush the breath rising in slivers of delight; a manifold cat crowing

With blood dripping from the vine; candlelight shadows and the clock chimes

Black rubies twined atop pentagon lines; vanilla incantations of silk desires

Parting red lips to stoke this fire; deep the moans bewitching cradle

Resting now the dawn which waits; within her arms love set ablaze....

Nightfalls curious drop of time; beyound the curtains in that sublime

Whereupon her bosom it does lie; casting spells while taking tithes

In this my heart she surely knows; outside the window a proxic cat crows

Aneath blood and blue rubies dripping from the vine; such silk incantations....

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

...."My Beautiful Bride's" *

My Beautiful Bride's

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

A curious drop of orgone dusk; making way to peek amid the curtains...
 
Hush the breath rising in slivers of delight; a manifold cat crowing

With blood dripping from the vine; candlelight shadows and the clock chimes

Black rubies twined atop pentagon lines; vanilla incantations of silk desires

Parting red lips to stoke this fire; deep the moans bewitching cradle

Resting now the dawn which waits; within her arms love set ablaze... 

Nightfalls curious drop of time; beyound the curtains in that sublime

Whereupon her bosom it does lie; casting spells while taking tithes

In this my heart she surely knows; outside the window a proxic cat crows 
Aneath blood and blue rubies dripping from the vine; such silk incantations...

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

...“My Beautiful Bride's” *

Him Or Her

Standing up the easel and putting on a scrap piece of paper,
the person with grey eyes and olive skin blinked
aimlessly at the new found lay out of the untouched page.
A smile was not apparent on the cracked lips of the mouth.

Above, the stars did their thing and twinkled.
A single petal of blossom floated into disappearance
amongst the nightfalls navies.

The hand pencilled a staggering drunken man,
covered head to toe in an alcoholic quiver; he was
slowly killing his own liver. 

Then the hand smudged a river under a delightful starry sky;
the man in the picture too bewildered in mind to feel
the piercing coldness from the rivers wind.

The drawing a work of amateur art that nobody had not yet seen.

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