Never get out of bed before noon.
quote by Charles Bukowski
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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High Noon
A leather life from the prairie to the blue, blue ocean
A one horse town of promised gold and western fortune
Oh, token slug of bourbon
Time after time
High noon - riding a dream
Lie after lie
High noon - not what they seem
But it only happened in film
Hot dust and lust, a dawn to dusk can lead to danger
I bought a lover locket - a barroom dolly -
Bathtub stranger (swear to me calamity again!)
Sasperella
Red neck fella
Lace umbrella
Be my girl!
When I find the west is won
Got to keep on rolling on and on
Time after time
High noon - riding a dream
Lie after lie
High noon - not what they seem
Mile after mile
High noon - building a dream
Lie after lie
High noon - not what they seem
song performed by by Haircut 100
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonnet Of The High Sun
At noon, we stride and walking together
The peace is stronger than the war of now.
A man shall face his maker and neighbour,
Then noon turns dust to stone, due to the cow.
A worker finds one’s heart aflutter since,
May charges be just sent towards disgust;
My cuckoo crawls and sings for that old prince
Who seeks a land of birds, crazy trust!
This land is of those birds in flight across
The seas of fortune, and of course destroy
A noon, when called by some, and not at loss
Are these delights: destroy the very toy!
Our land is awkward and designed by birds
That fly at noon, to shoot across some words.
poem by Naveed Akram
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The Old Man's Lament
The child-sun blazes
through grey morning fog
his passion overpowers
night’s sluggish slog
‘till bright noon’s on fire
with his effervescent love,
but it’s all the same, it’s
all the same.
Morning, noon, and night
may embrace our little lives,
but it’s all the same.
The ancient moon rises
in the fast-fading east.
Bloody sun dies, failed day retreats,
but it’s all the same, it’s all
the same.
Morning, noon, and night
may consume our little lives
but it’s all the same, all
the same.
poem by Steven Federle
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Earth Safe
Death paints darkness at noon
Earth not feared of death
Death paints darkness at noon
Sun shines sky so bright
Death paints darkness at noon
unkind eyes dark so blind
Volcanoes erupt, whirl winds kill
Towers collapse thousands peril
Terrors kill, humans destroy
Death paints darkness at noon
Earth not feared of death
Rivers flow, Oceans flow
Nature green, universe calm
Earth safe, safer than ever....
September 4,2008
poem by Rema Prasanaa
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I'd Rather Be Loved
I'd rather be loved,
Than to be painted...
As somebody that I aint,
To then be tainted.
I'd rather be loved,
Than to be sainted.
As someone that's depicted,
In a way to be shamed.
And by...
The light of the moon,
I want to be seen as the person that I am!
And by...
The dawn until noon,
I want to be seen as the person that I am!
I'd rather be loved...
Under bright lighted moon.
And,
Seen to be the person that I am.
I'd rather be loved...
From the dawning 'til noon.
By somebody who completely understands.
I'd rather be loved...
Under bright lighted moon.
I'd rather be loved...
From the dawning 'til noon.
And...
By that one who knows and understands.
I'd rather be loved...
From the dawning 'til noon.
And,
When night falls we know there's no demands.
And...
When night falls we're there and understand.
And...
We know what we do and what we can.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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As fair greits the bairn that is dung after noon, as he that is dung before noon.
A Noon Song
There are songs for the morning and songs for the night,
For sunrise and sunset, the stars and the moon;
But who will give praise to the fulness of light,
And sing us a song of the glory of noon?
Oh, the high noon, the clear noon,
The noon with golden crest;
When the blue sky burns, and the great sun turns
With his face to the way of the west!
How swiftly he rose in the dawn of his strength;
How slowly he crept as the morning wore by;
Ah, steep was the climbing that led him at length
To the height of his throne in the wide summer sky.
Oh, the long toil, the slow toil,
The toil that may not rest,
Till the sun looks down from his journey's crown,
To the wonderful way of the west!
Then a quietness falls over meadow and hill,
The wings of the wind in the forest are furled,
The river runs softly, the birds are all still,
The workers are resting all over the world.
Oh, the good hour, the kind hour,
The hour that calms the breast!
Little inn half-way on the road of the day,
Where it follows the turn to the west!
There's a plentiful feast in the maple-tree shade,
The lilt of a song to an old-fashioned tune,
The talk of a friend, or the kiss of a maid,
To sweeten the cup that we drink to the noon.
Oh, the deep noon, the full noon,
Of all the day the best!
When the blue sky burns, and the great sun turns
To his home by the way of the west.
poem by Henry Van Dyke
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I Think About You
I THINK ABOUT YOU EVERY MORNING
I THINK ABOUT YOU, BABE, EVERY NOON
I THINK ABOUT YOU EVERY EVENING
I THINK ABOUT YOU WHEN I LOOK UP AT THE MOON
I DON'T KNOW WHY THE HELL IT HAPPENED
I CAN SAY WE'RE BOTH CRAZY IN THE HEAD
WE FIGHT AND ARGUE ALL THE TIME ABOUT NOTHING
WHEN ALL WE BOTH WANT IS JUST TO BE IN LOVE NOT DEAD
I THINK ABOUT YOU EVERY MORNING
I THINK ABOUT YOU, BABE, EVERY NOON
I THINK ABOUT YOU EVERY EVENING
I THINK ABOUT YOU WHEN I KNOW I'LL SEE YOU SOON
I REALLY KNOW HOW MUCH I LOVE YOU BABY
I KNOW HOW MUCH YOU REALLY LOVE ME, TOO
SO WHY IS IT THEY WE ARE SO WRONG TOGETHER
HOW THE HELL COULD OUR REALITY BE SO CRUEL
I THINK ABOUT YOU EVERY MORNING
I THINK ABOUT YOU, BABE, EVERY NOON
I THINK ABOUT YOU EVERY EVENING
I THINK ABOUT YOU WHENEVER I'M IN TUNE
poem by Talile Ali
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High Noon
high noon
time to cook
for my wife
got to fry
the fresh fish
warm the rice
and place
the plate for
one person
only...
i have already
eaten just
before high
noon
left-overs
last breakfast
no problem
keep on writing
i am reading
your best poem
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Tut-Ench-Amon (Tutankhamen)
Been and seen down flight from chicago
All aboard the African Queen
I am on a night boat down to cairo
Feeling like a tourist with a foreign man abroad
Tells it like he thinks it is, but I know he is fraud
There is a map tucked under his shoulder
and a cap perched on his head
If he looked any older, he might as well be dead
Dressed in army surplus the files around me swarm
On a mission without a purpose, I wish I'd never been born
By the light of a pale moon - Tutankhamen
Half past high noon - Tutankhamen
Put you in the picture - 1884
I'm up to date on the literature
but I have never been here before
There is a black boy on the corner trailing me behind
Stalking like a vulture money on his mind
In the shadow of the giant sphinx the archeological tale
Before the eastern sun sinks I'll be learning braille
By the light of a pale moon - Tutankhamen
Half past high noon - Tutankhamen
They are playing our tune - Tutankhamen
Half past high noon - Tutankhamen
By the light of a, light of a pale moon - Tutankhamen
Half past high noon - Tutankhamen
By the light of a pale moon - Tutankhamen
Half past high noon - Tutankhamen
song performed by by Falco
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Crescent Noon
Green september
Burned to october brown
Bare november
Led to decembers frozen ground
The seasons stumbled round
Our drifting lives are bound
To a falling crescent noon
Feather clouds cry
A vale of tears to earth
Morning breaks and
No one sees the quiet mountain birth
Dressed in a brand new day
The sun is on its way
To a falling crescent noon
Somewhere in
A fairytale forest lies one
Answer that is waiting to be heard
You and I were
Born like the breaking day
All our seasons
All our green septembers
Burn away
Slowly well fade into
A sea of midnight blue
And a falling crescent noon
song performed by by Carpenters
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Meeting At Noon
They met at a coffee house
every day at noon.
They chose the same table
in the back of the room.
The aroma of the coffee
filled the air.
And while they smelled it
they continued to stare.
How was it, they wondered
that life could be
filled with remorse
that never let them be?
She, with a husband
whose mind was gone,
he, with a wife
whose body was gone,
They met each day
just to hold hands
and talk about
life's harsh demands.
They could not leave.
They were not that kind
but this meeting at noon
became the focus of their mind.
He watched her cry
and touched her face.
He knew her tears
he could not erase.
She watched him die
a little each day.
They prayed for the smell
of the coffee to stay.
and bring them peace
from these minutes at noon.
She stirred his coffee
and licked the spoon.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Noontime Pains
Aloud The sirens sound loudly for the arrival of high noon
The world stops
& snoops The heart keeps
Leaps
Even in high noon Pains, stones,
wide eyes till one p.m. and some bland stories to keep this harsh day moving
till five.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Memory
My mind lets go a thousand things
Like dates of wars and deaths of kings,
And yet recalls the very hour--
'T was noon by yonder village tower,
And on the last blue noon in May--
The wind came briskly up this way,
Crisping the brook beside the road;
Then, pausing here, set down its load
Of pine-scents, and shook listlessly
Two petals from that wild-rose tree.
poem by Thomas Bailey Aldrich
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Sleep My Darling Sleep
yesterday at noon he fell asleep
what they told me next made me weep
they said if he's not up today at noon
there gonna tell everybody he might not awake
but in the meantime i say
sleep my darling sleep
get your health back from god
sleep my darling sleep
but dont forget to come back to me
poem by Adriana O'Connor
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I envy Seas, whereon He rides
498
I envy Seas, whereon He rides—
I envy Spokes of Wheels
Of Chariots, that Him convey—
I envy Crooked Hills
That gaze upon His journey—
How easy All can see
What is forbidden utterly
As Heaven—unto me!
I envy Nests of Sparrows—
That dot His distant Eaves—
The wealthy Fly, upon His Pane—
The happy—happy Leaves—
That just abroad His Window
Have Summer's leave to play—
The Ear Rings of Pizarro
Could not obtain for me—
I envy Light—that wakes Him—
And Bells—that boldly ring
To tell Him it is Noon, abroad—
Myself—be Noon to Him—
Yet interdict—my Blossom—
And abrogate—my Bee—
Lest Noon in Everlasting Night—
Drop Gabriel—and Me—
poem by Emily Dickinson
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So Glow
Sail with me
sail with me in my sea honey
leave your sadness behind
leave this blue
this gloom
baby
sail with this boom
Don't worry about what
so loom
Roam with romance
Spool with the rock
And roll
Don't be gloom
so
move baby
this cloudy
seal of cry
Your smiley
Baby face
as sheen of noon
What this gloom
Not yours
so
let it go
In smoke
You so sweet
so
baby don't goof
I need your galaxy and your glow
And the good look of your glamour
You as the dawns
shake of the doom
So
and as the moon
Baby
Am your groom
You are bloom
take off
this hood
Turn with glow
so
Glide baby with the beams of your gleams
As the sun rise
In the noon
You the morning glary
For sure
and so
You make a shade glaze
At the full moon
so
baby
make my nights
like after noon
poem by Sallam Yassin
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In the Dark Pine-Wood
In the dark pine-wood
I would we lay,
In deep cool shadow
At noon of day.
How sweet to lie there,
Sweet to kiss,
Where the great pine-forest
Enaisled is!
Thy kiss descending
Sweeter were
With a soft tumult
Of thy hair.
O unto the pine-wood
At noon of day
Come with me now,
Sweet love, away.
poem by James Joyce
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Shadows
Beside the Narrow Crossing-Place
(And night was falling gray),
Two Shadows met, the legends tell. .
Each Shadow went its way.
But there was anguish in their eyes,
And tears in both their hearts.
Beside the Narrow Crossing-Place,
Where Shade from Shadow parts.
For they had seen the Rising Sun
In opal and in rose,
For they had seen the Rising Sun,
Who saw the long day close.
And had they met at Mom or Noon
Who met the shades between?
Ay! had they met at Morn or Noon
And so — the Might-Have-Been !
poem by Edwin James Brady
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The Banjo
I heard a banjo pluck a tune
and thought to myself 'it's only noon.'
Shouldn't banjos be plucked at night
while girls are clogging in delight?
I turned and saw the banjo player
and could tell that he was just a purveyor
of musical beats for all the girls
with round hoop skirts and golden curls.
Dance away you southern belles
while the magnolia sweetly smells.
For when the banjo is all strummed out
the gents shall clap and loudly shout.
'More, more. It's only noon.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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