Nocturnes Poems - Poems about Nocturnes

You speak, and my spine remembers that I was built to bow. Your breath: a nocturne in C sharp minor— unasked, entering… disarming, following. You lean in like Chopin leaned on silence— possessively, melancholic need before sound—searing hushes that demand submission in return. And I am raindrops to your sustaining notes…. storming into the song’s development— I become the keys, and you the...

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NOCTURNES the unquiet  street of autumn haze illicit   circumstance an idealistic   illusion a paradox  made manifest in precise in precepts  of intention concentrated   attention in straddled  objectives...

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https://youtu.be/-gDinVAmtA0 Chopin Nocturnes Listen....autumn rain is gently falling Within enchanted hour of twilight sky. In my heart, Chopin is softly calling Lovely piano notes that make me cry. As Luna slowly rises in the east Her soft lambent glow lightly veiled in shrouds, Taming the spirit of both man and beast By roaming mesmerizing misty clouds. My spirit soars within this peaceful scene Enthralled by...

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Hackneyed breath of words and the clichés hit the wall, A stream of summoned nonsense bounces off of me like superstition, Benevolent limits of indulgence, on the other hand, - oh, well! The oeuvre of life, I live, leans towards the attraction, Sprinkled over with the droplets of avant-garde, and hedonism. But the intentions engender balance between born, and...

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Fractured nocturnes salute the moon Carried on by those who tarry Perpetual is the duality of reality Distorted by conflagration Rose petals drift from a purple sky Red over white, blue over red The stars so rest in an apathetic state It's too late to turn back the date They were frozen in crystal But beautiful so it's supposedly okay From seeds burst radiant flowers If...

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NOCTURNES BY MIDNIGHT AND for every memory whose hands have touched my hungry lonely moments; I am always here, between laughter and weeping; singing and shouting. Just today (which I realize is everyday in eternity) I walked across a crack that contained my soul; the sidewalk made of gold. And while I write feeble words to...

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