Related quotes: In the dead of night...

Kristallnacht

In the dead of night
when the moon was high
and crystals were energized
from natures moon,
energy to give life.

But this energy was dark and black,
and midnights' hidden faces,
showing shameful deeds.
Masked by moonlight.

Secret evil always hides its face,
and dark, unsigned letters,
whispered conversations, balaclava.
And breaking glass with running steps.

Truth will always face the Sun,
and not need back lane path,
like thieves.
But call at front in day.

Shame upon you crystal sinners,
in your shame filled deeds
of darkness, empty hollows echo,
a dead tree, rotten bark.

poem by Bernard Kennedy
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Elemento De Noctis

Element of the Night, Darkness. My way and my path of life.

I've been ranting continuously ever since I found out that the Dark is actually light in a different form. So I made my 'E' poem Elemento de Noctis:

Darkness was created with the land
The dark one stretched out his old gloomy hand
Yet not a soul is willing to go
In darkness you reap, in darkness you sow

Darkness is one of the light
It shines its energy out day and night
Yet nobody trusts its presence
Due to human fear towards its essence

The dark is never evil
From the beginning it is good
Yet from the beginning it is misunderstood
As both light and dark are mutual

The dark cannot exist without light
Just as day could not end without night
The path of life that nobody has taken
The path of life that I have awaken

poem by Jaya Razo
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Death of Dusk

The sun resigns,
bleeds out the vestiges –
remnants of the day.

Exsanguination edges into twilight:
red-brown hangs;
upwards darkens:
blue-brown,
blue-black,
death-black,
disquiet – furtive,
like ghoul-ridden fog.

A sombre moon assumes its role,
gushing silver-white lymph upon the muted scape –
a prequel of supernatural undertones
to chill the scene,
ice the spine,
kill the brain –

we have unnerved the very firmament.

But now a shadow closing down the globe:
dinosaurian cloud shrouds the moon glaze,
claims the late hour –
declared in a dying crow caw.

I, the hidden owl
– nemesis of claustrophobic minds –
awake! for mammal flesh –
fresh, jerking out its warmth in dance of death.
Rock-still I perch in sculptured oneness
with my crooked night-tree,
emanating nocturnal allure.

Together we scowl
together we play the dark
upon the land and sky
and mind

while you lie as dead in your box.

dark dark dark dark night dark dark dark dark night
dark dark dark dark night
dark dark dark dark night dark dark
dark dark dark dark night dark dark dark dark night
dark dark dark dark night dark dark
dark dark dark dark night
dark dark dark dark night dark dark dark dark night

poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Dark Dark Moon......

Dark dark moon
Dark dark moon
No no no no no, don't show me your face...!

Dark dark moon
Dark dark moon
No no no no no, no my eyes won't turn...!

Dark dark moon
Dark dark moon
No no no no no, please don't talk to me...!

Dark dark moon
Dark dark moon
No no no no no, please please don't go away....!

poem by Rowving Smith
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2 In 1

I thinkabout the sun
from sunset to sunrise
like hideand seek, this celestial object
hides from me, and when the sun leaves
the moon peaks from behind the darkness

i stay outall night just to harnest,
midnights beauty, she's sucha beauty
the stars make-up the midnight sky,
like make up they shine when she blushes

Likea shush, the darkness remains silent
at midnights still, the wind blows
and you can feel, the touch of beauty
as the light of the moon shines on the concrete
to reflect hidden sunshine
afterall the sun hides behind the moon
likea celestial game of peeka boo,
then the sun rises to takea peak

Dont stare to longas beauty can blind
and then you willonly beable to feel
the warm embrace of the sun
as it shines over your bodyand
it kisses your cheek puttinga smile
on your face, a smileonly the
sun or moon can make you display,
as it is for the glow of the moon
or the suns rays

poem by Clinton ricks
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A Single Candle/Death Herself

A single flame lights her face
The face of death
A single candle holds her fears
The fears of death

Her hands clasped anrond their souls
The souls of the dead
She feeds of their screams
The screams of the dead

Her legs lay bellow her
Bellow death
Her black gown over her body
The body of death

Her chest rises and falls with her breath
The breath of death
Her cloak drawn over her long flowing jet hair
The face of death

Her eyes unmoved unfeeling
Do you see it?
Do you see the soul of death?
Do you feel it?

Her skin as white as snow as it fades into darkness
The snow of tears
Her cloths as dark as night that swallows the light
The dark we all shall see

Her eyes close as she feels their souls flow
Flow from the dead
She leaves them there to lay in darkness
She steals from the dead

A single candle lights their faces filled with her
Filled with death
They fall into the darkness of her eyes, of her heart
The darkness of death

A single candle shall stay to light their way
Their way through the dark
A single candle holds their past
The pain and trials

A single candle lights her face
The face of death
A single candle holds her fears
The fears of death herself

A single candle

poem by Bethany Maxwell
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Dust Moon

How long have I been running far far away from you
As many miles as I've gone
Still the darkness comes on
There will be a crimson moon tonight

Dust moon rises...your face haunts me so
Dust moon rises...sanity leaving me soon
I still see your blood on the face of the moon

Your face haunts me, nothing clear now
Dust moon has risen
Bloody, mocking moon
Daylight seems lifetimes away, eternal midnight
Keep running away
Dust moon has risen...haunting me so
Dust moon rises...sanity, leaving me so soon?
I still see your face on the blood of the moon

And when the dust moon rests his weary head
And the sunshine begins to rise
Will I still be here or will I be dead
Is the dawn of a new day just a lie?

poem by Moon Dust
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Correct?

If the moon and the sun waged a war,
Who would win? The moon, I'm sure.

The sun would fight face to face,
Making sure everything was proper and in its place.

The sun would often stop and double check,
Just to make certain he was politically correct.

While the sun was being fair and safe,
The moon was off in a darkened place.

In the night, the moon slipped around
And hid behind the sun somehow.

The evening ended and the sun awoke.
He rose quickly as the morning broke.

The sun searched but could not find the moon,
And the sun was happy the war had ended so soon.

When the day turned dark and dark turned black,
The moon stabbed the sun in his well-meaning back.

poem by Richard Betts
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~Knight~

How dark that shadow you cast
over moonlight's silver strings,
You masked to blackest pitch
it is the night you bring.

Under moon high and laying low
within your raven wings,
I toss about throwing stars out
alighting far darkened things.

Wanes the moon who paled too soon
for knight his sword is swift,
When falls upon cleaves deep and long
until his darkness lifts.

7-1-06

version 2
How dark the shadow that's cast
upon moonlight's silver strings,
You, masked to blackest pitch
It is the night you bring.

Under moon high and laying low
within your raven wings,
Tossing about, burning stars out
Blacken far-darkened things.

Waning moon who pales too soon
The knight, his sword sinks swift,
When falls upon cleaves deep and long...
Until his darkness lifts.

poem by Sinnaminsun Sinnaminsun
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He stole his eyes from a milk-glass moon - Villanelle

He stole his eyes from a milk-glass moon,
From drops of peridot scattered at sea,
Hidden beneath a moon-shadowed ruin.

His father not caring where or with whom,
Or from what rare ocean his being might be-
He stole his eyes from a milk-glass moon.

He learnt his letters from a dark winged loon
Who flew where the mountains caress the trees,
Hidden beneath a moon-shadowed ruin.

His speech was a garble of false and truth,
Whistling like a hollow piped reed,
He stole his eyes from a milk-glass moon.

His eyes a contagion of waters blue
And brackish trunks of underwater trees
Hidden beneath a moon-shadowed ruin.

His normal voice wove a threadless tune,
Brought close the mermaids, hungry to feed;
He stole his eyes from a milk-glass moon,
Hidden beneath a moon-shadowed ruin.

poem by Patti Masterman
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A Description Of Sunrise

the day is over
we clap our hands

in the dark we remember
those deeds of the night

dusk comes with a surprise
on to what is next

the sun rises again
we clap our hands again

hoping that this brand new day
shall give us progress and even eternity

oh, the cycle is here again
another man of the sun loses face to the moon

in the dark we seek shelter to the night
we sleep and dream

tomorrow as the sun rises
we shall have learned: this is nothing but a vicious cycle

we then go to our own affairs
not minding whether it is morning or evening

the faces of the days
do not matter anymore.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Mr. James Dean

All the king's horses
Wouldn't make me believe
Even when the walls come crashing down
You still can never be
A rebel without a cause
A rebel to the first degree
Why don't you stop trying so hard?
Cause there's no men, man enough to be
Another James Dean
You're nothing like him
So don't call me friend
Cause you're nothing like me
Even when the world stops turning
There will never be another James Dean
You'll never be James Dean
All the faces you're making
Save it for the scene
And All the people you're faking
Why was it only me?
I saw right into your eyes
And you're just not so deep
I've had too many cries
Mr. Prince Charming
Sorry, you could never be
Cause you're nothing like him
So don't call me friend
Cause you're nothing like me
Even when the world stops turning, the world stops turning
Now you move to the next town
Next set, next girl, have fun baby
I'm taking back my world
Here we are face to face
Same energy, you and me
Don't wanna be enemies
Here we are face to face
Same energy, you and me
Don't wanna be enemies
Here we are face to face
Same energy, you and me
Don't wanna be enemies
Here we are face to face
Same energy, you and me
Don't wanna be enemies
Here we are face to face
Same energy, you and me
Don't wanna be enemies

song performed by by Hilary Duff
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Veils

Veils, everywhere float veils; veils long and black,
Framing white faces, oft-times young and fair,
But, like a rose touched by untimely frost,
Showing the blighting marks of sorrow's track.

Veils, veils, veils everywhere. They tell the cost
Of man-made war. They show the awful toll
Paid by the hearts of women for the crimes,
The age-old crimes by selfishness ill-named
'Justice' and 'Honour' and 'The call of Fate'-
High words men use to hide their low estate.
About the joy and beauty of this world
A long black veil is furled.
Even the face of Heaven itself seems lost
Behind a veil. It takes a fervent soul
In these tense times
To visualise a God so long defamed
By insolent lips, that send out prayers, and prate
Of God's collaboration in dark deeds,
So foul they put to shame the fiends of hell.

Yet One
does
dwell
In Secret Centres of the Universe-
The Mighty Maker; and He hears and heeds
The still small voice of soulful, selfless faith;
And He is lifting now the veil of death,
So long down-dropped between those worlds and earth.
Yea! He is giving faith a great new birth
By letting echoes from the hidden places
Where dwell our dead, fall on love's listening ear.
Hearken, and you shall hear
The messages which come from those star-spaces!
That is the reason why
God let so many die;
That the vast hordes of suffering hearts might wake
Mighty vibrations, and the silence break
Between the neighbouring worlds, and lift the veil
'Twixt life on earth, and life Beyond. All hail
To great Jehovah, Who has given life
Eternal, everlasting, after strife!

Veils, long black veils, you shall be bridal white.
Eyes, blind with tears, you shall receive your sight,
And see your dead alive in Worlds of Light.

poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Having Lost My Sons, I Confront the Wreckage of the Moon: Christmas, 1960

After dark
Near the South Dakota border,
The moon is out hunting, everywhere,
Delivering fire,
And walking down hallways
Of a diamond.

Behind a tree,
It ights on the ruins
Of a white city
Frost, frost.

Where are they gone
Who lived there?

Bundled away under wings
And dark faces.

I am sick
Of it, and I go on
Living, alone, alone,
Past the charred silos, past the hidden graves
Of Chippewas and Norwegians.

This cold winter
Moon spills the inhuman fire
Of jewels
Into my hands.

Dead riches, dead hands, the moon
Darkens,
And I am lost in the beautiful white ruins
Of America.

poem by James Arlington Wright
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Behind Every Gross Appearance Has Invisible Subtle!

Isn't it true
neither moon nor universe, not
even I or you are visible without the
invisible in us.
Visible all are, only because of
that more invisible in us! Behind every visible gross
appearance, there is more
invisible subtle appearance,
When we look at the picture,
We usually forget the canvas,
When watching a TV program, usually we can't see how
invisible electrons produce the
image.

I cannot see my own face,
just as God hides his face to us...
Therefore, could it be that we
have one and the same face?

our face is one of His face,
Yet as he can look at his other
faces using one that he can't see,
We are looking at our other faces
using this one, That we can't see,
This is the truth that The God
uses this face to look at other
faces! Yet we visible to that invisible,
And we are visible only due to
that invisible ground on which
whole world play,
World itself is visible face of that
invisible face, Every life become visible only
because of that who hides is face
behind beauty and ugly faces
alike!

poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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Light and Dark

Yes, You are Dark
Like the Darkness
of the Night
And Yes, I am Fair
Like the Sweet
Moonlight.

Yet the Moon
And The Night
Co-exist
Together...
Complementing
Each other -
With their shades of
the Light and the Dark.

Brushing each other,
Like the soft caresses
Of my Fair Fingers
On your Dark Skin.

And one such
Moonlit Night,
I'll be the Moon
And you'll be the
Night -
Making love to you
With your consent,
If I might.

The light of my
Effervescent Love
Igniting -
The Inhibited Passions
In the Dark Dungeons
Of your shadowy life.

Flooding you with
Vibrant colours
So Bright -
As Beautiful
And Celestial
As the
Skyline Rainbow
And Eternal...
As the Ethereal
Moonlight.

poem by Aparna Chatterjee
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What The Hyena Said

The moon is but a golden skull,
She mounts the heavens now,
And Moon-Worms, mighty Moon-Worms
Are wreathed around her brow.

The Moon-Worms are a doughty race:
They eat her gray and golden face.
Her eye-sockets dead, and molding head:
These caverns are their dwelling-place.

The Moon-Worms, serpents of the skies,
From the great hollows of her eyes
Behold all souls, and they are wise:
With tiny, keen and icy eyes,
Behold how each man sins and dies.

When Earth in gold-corruption lies
Long dead, the moon-worm butterflies
On cyclone wings will reach this place—
Yea, rear their brood on earth’s dead face.

poem by Vachel Lindsay
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Gratis Et Amore (2)

helen cannot sleep,
and she keeps on sneering at the moon
and writing it
with poems as though the moon is a man
and as though the poems are her
letters pleading
to be loved by its glimmer
and shimmer imagining
them to be the rough hands
of a lover and
throughout many nights
she had been waiting
to be loved

there were many things that she did
all for the moon not even for the stars
until one morning she was found
dead inside her room
her face towards the moon
her eyes closed
her window open
and the people who buried her
that same day
told about the shame
that she was naked

i know how it is to be like her
and it was all done in the name of love
gratis et amore.

and they said, all of them, after all the prayers were said
Amen.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Why love the moon?

Why love the moon?
Because she is fair?
Because she seems so debonair?

The moon you love lives away so far,
She left you long ago for the stars;
For which in her insecurities she has prevailed,
As she hides behind her silver veil.

Why love the moon?
Because she shines?
Because you think her beauty divine?

The face she shows is but a play,
There’s another side she never displays;
A side so dark you cannot see,
It’s there she hides her agonies.

Why love the moon?
Because she is there?
Because you think you have her care?

Every month she shows her entire face,
You stare at her beauty and sit in her grace;
But as the days pass she turns to the Sun,
The person who has her eternal love.

The Sun however rejects her again,
So she turns back to you to comfort her pain;
And again you accept her, again and again,
It is your heart she holds,
it has been slain.

So why love the moon,
The Superficial moon,
The Cruel, the Uncaring and Inconsistent moon,
The moon who Scorns you!
The moon who Left you!
The moon who CHEATS WHEN SHE'S BEHIND YOU!

...because you love her.

poem by Warren Chan
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The Return

The grass was gray with the moonlit dew,
The stones were white as I came through;
I came down the path by the thirteen yews,
Through the blocks of shade that the moonlight hews.
And when I came to the high lych-gate
I waited awhile where the corpses wait;
Then I came down the road where the moonlight lay
Like the fallen ghost of the light of day.

The bats shrieked high in their zigzag flight,
The owls' spread wings were quiet and white,
The wind and the poplar gave sigh for sigh,
And all about were the rustling shy
Little live creatures that love the night -
Little wild creatures timid and free.
I passed, and they were not afraid of me.

It was over the meadow and down the lane
The way to come to my house again:
Through the wood where the lovers talk,
And the ghosts, they say, get leave to walk.
I wore the clothes that we all must wear,
And no one saw me walking there,
No one saw my pale feet pass
By my garden path to my garden grass.
My garden was hung with the veil of spring -
Plum-tree and pear-tree blossoming;
It lay in the moon's cold sheet of light
In garlands and silence, wondrous and white
As a dead bride decked for her burying.

Then I saw the face of my house
Held close in the arms of the blossomed boughs:
I leaned my face to the window bright
To feel if the heart of my house beat right.
The firelight hung it with fitful gold;
It was warm as the house of the dead is cold.
I saw the settles, the candles tall,
The black-faced presses against the wall,
Polished beechwood and shining brass,
The gleam of china, the glitter of glass,
All the little things that were home to me -
Everything as it used to be.

Then I said, 'The fire of life still burns,
And I have returned whence none returns:
I will warm my hands where the fire is lit,
I will warm my heart in the heart of it!'
So I called aloud to the one within:
'Open, open, and let me in!
Let me in to the fire and the light -
It is very cold out here in the night!'
There was never a stir or an answering breath -
Only a silence as deep as death.

Then I beat on the window, and called, and cried.
No one heard me, and none replied.
The golden silence lay warm and deep,
And I wept as the dead, forgotten, weep;
And there was no one to hear or see -
To comfort me, to have pity on me.

But deep in the silence something stirred -
Something that had not seen or heard -
And two drew near to the window-pane,
Kissed in the moonlight and kissed again,
And looked, through my face, to the moon-shroud, spread
Over the garlanded garden bed;
And--'How ghostly the moonlight is!' she said.

Back through the garden, the wood, the lane,
I came to mine own place again.
I wore the garments we all must wear,
And no one saw me walking there.
No one heard my thin feet pass
Through the white of the stones and the gray of the grass,
Along the path where the moonlight hews
Slabs of shadow for thirteen yews.

In the hollow where drifted dreams lie deep
It is good to sleep: it was good to sleep:
But my bed has grown cold with the drip of the dew,
And I cannot sleep as I used to do.

poem by Edith Nesbit
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The abstract star

At one time everything slips into the past

Let me take it for granted
that I am flying in the sky
over my head below my feet
beginning from the fingers of
my outspread hands the endless sky

The sky of the night of the dark moon
the enchanting endless sky
of the night of the dark moon

“Do not start your journey on the night of the dark moon”

The known warning of my mother’s simple faith
yet I was born in such a dark night
she hides thing truth from me

The star gazing at which I am flying
in enchanting sky of this night
is dead is it’s sky in the same present
yet it is living for me
it is the living abstract star of the projected truth