Nighthawk Poems | Examples

Snow Falling, Swirling

 
(My inspiration is number 3, the Snowman winter scene.)


I love snow falling, watching it blow and swirl in drifts, 
like a dance- snowflakes prance and twirl all night;
I walk, a nighthawk as the flakes unfurl their fragile gifts.

And at dawn, I yawn and crawl to my bed for some sleep,
I dream ... of white agleam in my head under a light;
of a man, a snowman and a red bird-  with a song to peep.

The morn brings beauty to adorn each tree and house with trills,
a painting, sustaining from a corner coffeehouse scented right;
slush, in the morning rush, a reality douse of slippery hills.

Nighthawk

A sliver of October moon
sinks slow into the western night
and the life of a billion stars
begin to fade beyond my sight

The black curtain of night dissolves
as colors flare the eastern sky
The glorious hues of morning
proudly herald a new sunrise

Heaven's light spreads o'er the valley
telling all the world to arise
Bright autumn leaves upon the trees
mimic the grandeur of the sky

Sunflowers turn their golden heads
to the promise of what's to come
A melody from wings on high
sing a joyous praise to the sun

I get a little misty eyed
as other cowboy start to come
Can't help but feel a little sad
that this night-herders job is done

The Wee Hours

It's the wee hours of the morning,
And the rain is drizzling down.
It makes the air all fresh and clean,
As I walk the streets of town.

Although July is ending,
It's damp and cold tonight,
And there's no moon to light my way.
The streets are lit by street lights.

A nighthawk calls above me.
An owl greets me here.
A cat scampers across my path.
What else will next appear?

I still feel the quiet peace,
That comes from nightly walks.
Just me and God alone at last,
Accompanied by our dogs.

Soothing Stress

With the chalk, 
Teachers' hearts knock
Students flock;
Goats, we overstock
And sheep, we unlock! 

With our talks, 
Teachers' mouths stalk
Lazy students' works, 
Discipline the ones that balk, 
And reinforce the gawks! 

With our walks, 
Knowledge toast to hawk
Teachers nighthawk;
Going days overwork, 
Reactivating students' blocks. 

Happy Teachers' day!

Night Magic

They say when the moon rides high and bright,
And casts it's silver glow,
On fields and meadows, woods and streams,
And village streets below,

It's good advice to stay inside,
Not venture far from home;
For there are those of ill intent,
Who choose this time to roam;

But I find this a peaceful time,
A time that's filled with beauty,
When Nature shows a little bit,
Of the treasures in her booty.

The gentle creatures of the night,
Who hide themselves by day,
Come out to forage now for food,
And mayhap stop to play.

The owl, fox and weasel come,
A nighthawk gives it's call.
A deer, a hare, a little mouse,
All wait for night to fall;

And here I sit, I'm waiting too,
To go out on the prowl.
When the moon rides high and the stars shine bright,
It's my time to howl.

-nighthawk:

The nighthawk that's afraid of the dark
Stays up to protect his heart 
With a mind wired by the creative 
That won’t cease until he finishes his piece 
He draws to put himself at ease 
To give himself peace 

Every night well past twelve 
Putting his head through hell 
Before he rests it on his pillow 
Which he clutches as he is hopeless and hollow

The painting of agony is what brought him peace and calm
The same painting that brought his peace near
Was the catalyst to his nightmare 
Through the night tantalized by fear 
Vexing and nagging his ear 
The dark’s cold leer 
Haunts him still 

Till he wakes 
In his ashes
And asks

Why

Old Nails

OLD NAILS
Quazi Johirul Islam

I have been trying to remove old nails
From my feet, from my palms, for many years
Jordan full to the brim of my pure tears
Pain spread all over with the great details. 
Bethlehem-sky broken down to Sinai
Torment of Sinai melted the mountain
Golgotha-sin washed away by the rain
People climbed further up, up very high.

My body is still nailed to the old cross
Dripping blood, flows to every dark ocean
Who knows the world standing on a question?
Someone spreading fear with his shinny tawse.
You nailed me to ground and ask me to walk
Even I give a try, there is nighthawk?

Holliswood, New York. 11 September 2019.

Yellow

Yellow leaps, flipping, dashes wild,
Then spins and flits.
Plays twister and racket ball.

Yellow is camping late August.

Feels like pudding skin.
Smells Gray Poupon and makes me grin.

Dying oak leaves early fall on the branch,
A speeding squirrel by day,
Nighthawk screech in the muffled night.

Imagination flapping on the edge of insane.
Whimsy, class clown, calls the sun to birth.  
Yellow shows off.

Fierce fire works’ grand finale.
Shuffling cards and county-fair fun house.
		
Yellow is silly.

Swooping swallows. 
Squirrel chatter, and boogie-woogie piano.
Yellow is frisky, barks at shadows.
And bounces really high.

Rabbits run like yellow.

Old Crow

Old Crow

Old crow
Tired and lazy' against the day
Dark skies
Lost in blacks and whites and grays
Howling north wind
Sure takes a man's fight away

Wastelands,
A dreamer's home on his best day
Hard rain
Drops the leaves and makes the colors fade
And talks cheap,
But for the words of time they'll ave the last say
Oh the words of time, they'll have the last say

And the harvest is in, it wasn't much
May I have enough to get by
The baskets were light, not a muscle ached
And somehow I feel I'm going to die
The winter is coming and the signs say hard
I've never seen such a haunting sky

For on the mountains, frost in the wind
And somehow I feel I'm going to die
Full moon
Lonely above the old oak tree line
Old crow
Hanging empty in the black sky
And a nighthawk
Circles her in silence as she flies
Old crow, all alone she flies

Nocturnal

notice the natural
                       nocturnal of the night-
           never has the naked
           nighthawk nested as neat-
                          neglected by dark, he
                          nestles with grace and need.
                 numb from twilight, he’s near. 




April 29, 2017

The Maiden and the Hunter

Upon the jagged rock,
Where cloven hooves did trot.
A maiden clothed in dock,
Thought life was meant for naught.

Adorned in nature's frock,
Awaiting wind's onslaught.
Ticktock, ticktock, the clock
She dreamed of love a lot.

From China to Bangkok,
Wind brought the storms mascot.
He wished, that young warlock.
The devil's charms besought.

Two footprints stomped bedrock  
Where, dreams remained bethought.
Beneath the black nighthawk,
The maiden heard gunshot.

The hunter drank cognac.
He passed through a sandlot.
Then, met that old warlock.
Good luck was all he sought.

The devil owned the rock.
The maiden's hope was naught.
The hunter could not talk.
The wind's good luck was wrought.

Within the storms airlock,
Those two with Satan fought.
The hawk began to squawk.
The hunter luck was bought. 

Then came the storms windsock.
To waft the dreams besought.
Where love, its coursers walk. 
Her wish was finally wrought.

© May 29, 2011


Written for Poetry Soup Member Contest: Jack OUT of the Box 
Sponsored by: Debbie Guzzy

" Fer Those Pickers "

'Twas a cold cold day o'tune,
Fer those pickers down in Boone.
Fiddles brought so had they'd ought,
Newest feathers just store bought,
'Twas a cold cold day a'tune.

Fer those pickers down in Boone,
That wind she whistled well.
A'high up steeple rung that bell,
As sun did set upon those met,
'Twas a cold cold day a'tune.

Those fiddles danced as songs were sung,
Among those there abandon flung.
On a cold cold day a'tune,
Fer those pickers down in Boone.

Oh now banshee wailed her greatest plea,
On that cold cold day a'tune.
While nighthawk sailed his flight o'free,
Fer those pickers down in Boone.


SeaWolf
©

Hawk Eyed

The nighthawk sails tonight;
Encompassing a silent world
Caught is, his prey in the wink of an eye

Spinning and diving in swirls
Across the midnight skies
While he holds court with the fancied hawk girls

The sea hawk takes to the sky
She dives for her daily catch
Of delicious bass in the seas nearby

Each bares a twinkle in their eyes
Prey for each, comes as no surprise

I'D Walk the Naked Miles

What twist of fate has befallen us?
When nighthawks no longer soar by day --
Ritualistic measures of time usurps moonlight
 
Where then shall I see upon my love’s face ~
A smile that would light the ancient Nile
Oh to feel the warmth of his sweet embrace

Dusk be not in such foul temperament..
Let pace of dawn be slow to arise
As it steals the warmth of our embrace

Oh twilight stars of night twinkle, now
As, the nighthawk, pleasures ebony soul 
For that simple delight, I’d walk the naked miles…

Saddened is this heart when we must part
Let the setting of the sun come soon
Then we shall soar once more ‘neath lover’s moon 

The watchman comes nigh, careful now
we must depart this gentleness – Remember,
For that simple pleasure, I’d walk the naked miles…

Listen

When the horses talk to me, 
They tell me many things, 
Whats and hows of yesterday, 
Why the nighthawk sings. 

I learn the meaning of the dance. 
Between animals and men, 
They inspire me to take the chance, 
To look back on where I’ve been. 

On this plain where we live, 
In the circle at the center, 
You receive more than you give, 
When privileged to enter. 

So I close my eyes in trust and walk, 
And listen, to the horses talk.

• Short Nighthawk Poems
• Famous Nighthawk Poems
• Best Nighthawk Poems
• Read Nighthawk Poems
• Long Nighthawk Poems
• Nighthawk Quotes