Home tonight for E. Fitzgerald V. Vangouh
Carry on
Carry on
why'd you go
away,
the summers not
over yet
Stop the midnight
traffic
with your sour notes
stop it all in your
truse
"starry-starry
night"
paint the picture
& paint it right
Capture all that
turns the air grey
To capture all that
is turning the night time
Gay.
The bright sun goes to sleep,
the quiet stars wake up in the
sky,
The soft moon shines on
your bed to watch you rest,
Close your eyes now and
sleep well until morning
light.
I wonder what she is dreaming of
Behind the curtains of sleep
Is it the beach beneath the starry night?
Or the cool breeze in the mid-July heat?
What if she's dreaming about someone,
Someone dear to her
Perhaps a paramour
With undying love for her
Perhaps I can find the one she admires
For I am jealous of him
Such a beauty
So remote from me
What if that privileged person is me?
Perhaps she is dreaming of a tryst with me
What a lovely dream that would be
But alas, her love is not for me
I bid thee farewell, my fair maiden
May we meet someday
May we talk and talk
And that would be my best day
The moon decided to learn
how to bake,
And stirred up a giant and
starry- filled cake!
He used the soft clouds for a
bowl of white dough,
And baked it all night with a
warm, glowing glow.
He added a scoop of the
deep ocean blue,
And decorated with shiny,
bright comets and dew.
When the sun woke up
bright, the moon took a
peek,
And fed all his crumbs to the
birds in the creek!
stuck questioning if someone has feelings for you
unrequited love: I smiled never amazed by what
happens. I doubt if she has feelings for me, I'd question
why. It's probably because she can easily say what she
thinks in such clearity, and do to such affordability's
it can be justified as me being the right guy for her.
I felt the pressure of being pressured into a situation.
I knew for one she is temporay and those
eorminat fixtures in my life
wouldn't understand why I allowed her to position me.
" One of her friends told me a story about her brother
she said when they were small, she put cookie crumbs on
his face while he was sleeping and told there father he
took the cookies' See that kinda stuff just speak
about a person."I aint in know kinda love for real man!"
-------------------------limerence------------------------------------
--------- manipulators who used deceit, flattery, and--------------------------------------------- -----------------emotional pressure to achieve their goals-------------------------------------
She is A-1 singing and all but as a wife I'd think about it.
#10 on top 100 recent poems as of June 30, 2025
I see a dark cypress
towering in front of me
and behind it is a village
The tiny town
is wrapped in blue -
the blue of a night
that captures my imagination
a saffron crescent moon
and stars like balls
of miniature suns citrine-spiraled
wink at me
through yellow curly cues
I want to swirl with them
through the sky
which is water-color whorled
a steeple church
and houses sapphire-hued
sit ensconced beneath
undulating hills
fed by comfort -
I wish to snuggle
inside this scene
with Vincent’s stars
dancing in the vortex
of my slumbering mind
The sky staggers
in s
p
i
r
a
l
s of sleepless blue,
a celestial storm stitched from sapphire and sorrow,
where stars swell, simmering seeds of unstable light
trembling like thoughts too vast to be contained.
Above the village, night kneels in restless reverence.
Roofs rest in rigid resignation,
windows dim as quiet witnesses to cosmic unrest,
while the steeple stretches upward like a hesitant prayer
that never quite reaches its answer.
A cypress rises, black, brooding, blade-like
a funereal flame fixed in the soil of silence,
cutting through the composition like grief given form,
binding earth to the fevered heavens above.
The wind is unseen yet insinuated,
a wandering whisper weaving through the whorled sky,
stirring stars into spinning, shimmering syntax,
as though the night itself has lost grammatical control.
Nothing here is still.
Everything leans light lurches, darkness deepens, distance dissolves.
The world holds together on tension alone,
as though the painter captured not a landscape,
but the moment reality began to tremble.
and finally then came you ~
AP: Honorable Mention 2026, Honorable Mention 2026
The sun has sunk out of sight
Marking the dawn of twilight,
Soon, stars sneak in, a delight,
Painting the world silver white,
Every tiny point of light
A bacon in the grey night.
in need of breeze
beyond the noise,
seconds slither
through veined currents,
smothering the light within,
as silence forgets
the syllables of stillness
turning the sky
into a sea of electric blue ~
waves carrying
the weight of quiet grief,
restless ripples
pushing...pulling...
toward the swirls
of love
etched beneath
the midnight sun…
and if tomorrow I f a d e
intrinsic ink phase,
remember me as the dusk
that defied
treacherous tremors of dark ~
I gathered sparks
from spiraling stars
as constellations
shattered and crashed
against shivering skin
within this sleepless home,
carving a sapphire silhouette
of solitude ~
a poet drowning
in a demented dream
in the heart of
an unnamed village,
no soul of dawn longed to see,
unaware of heaven
hidden beneath
brush-bruised strokes,
where only a
feeler’s eyes
could trace the
fine feathers
f l o a t i n g through
the finesse
of a forlorn life…
That beautiful starry night
During the Summer night
I enjoy very much
I look up in the sky
And I see all the
Stars shining in the sky
The stars takes my
Breath away
Leaving me breathless
Also it was my father
That made the sky
With his holy hands
Before he made the human beings
Also he is the one that also made
The stars in the sky
In the Summer nights
I go late to bed
When the clock tells me that
It is midnight
And the next day
I wake up at 3 pm
(3-5-7).
Silent night,
Starry solution,
Peacenik's hope, Christmas dawning.
A summer breeze autumn leaves
or a starry night the firelight
whatever we may do
such things mean so much
they make my dreams come true
and every day's a holiday
when I'm with you
no matter where I go I know
my feelings I can't hide
wherever you are near or far
I'll feel the same inside
as winter brings a promise of spring
with rainy days clouds of grey
a world we see as new
everything is perfect
under sunny skies of blue
and all my troubles fade away
when I'm with you
(Dedication to Starry Night by Van Gogh, 1889)
Sometimes I find it difficult
to express myself to others.
I've grown accustomed to silence,
with my thoughts racing
lying down at night,
I look at myself and say,
"Who am I to this world?"
Turbulent skies and clouds
with no destination spends
hours awake through the nights
waiting for the dawn as the stars
hide behind its shapeless
soul, then I say,
"Who are you to this world?"
The stars tremble as they hear
the winds in motion, its voice
culminates them causing its simple
nature to shine past the dark void,
as the night draws a path straight
to my empty room,
strong is the light but delicate
are the shoulders that bear
the ungrateful for their daily indifference.
I sail between them to receive
and to endure their hardships,
I ask, "Where are you going?”
I drop an anchor in the center
where the voices of many reach
that don't go beyond a sigh
and I wait, clinging to their hopes.
Perhaps you will see me
the closer I climb to you,
and at last be able to sleep
alongside the forever
hope filled bones and stones.
Someone on the TV
told me bright sunshine
red sky at night
the outlook is fine
and the app on my phone
says blue skies are due
but when has the forecast
ever been true
it seems like the Sahara
with no oasis in sight
and just another foolish dream
to see me through the starry night
a voice on the radio
said the storm will disperse
things won't go south
or take a turn for the worse
but it's an ill wind won't blow
all the grey clouds away
no matter what
the weatherman may say
it was an ill wind
blew for you to stray
and it's an ill wind
won't bring you home today
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