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La servante au grand coeur dont vous étiez jalouse (The Great-Hearted Servant of whom you were Jealous)

The great-hearted servant of whom you were jealous,
sleeping her sleep in the humble grass,
shouldn't we take her a few flowers?
The dead, the poor dead, have griefs like ours,
and when October sighs, clipper of trees,
round their marble tombs, with its mournful breeze,
they must find the living, ungratefully, wed,
snug in sleep, to the warmth of their bed,
while they, devoured by dark reflection,
without bedfellow, or sweet conversation,
old skeletons riddled with worms, deep frozen,
feel the winter snows trickling round them,
and the years flow by without kin or friend
to replace the wreaths at their railing's end.
If some night, when the logs whistle and flare,
seeing her sitting calm, in that chair,
if on a December night, cold and blue,
I might find her there placed in the room,
solemn, and come from her bed, eternal,
to guard the grown child with her eye, maternal,
what could I answer that pious spirit,
seeing tears under her hollow eyelid?

poem by Charles Baudelaire
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Conversation of Prayer

The conversation of prayers about to be said
By the child going to bed and the man on the stairs
Who climbs to his dying love in her high room,
The one not caring to whom in his sleep he will move
And the other full of tears that she will be dead,

Turns in the dark on the sound they know will arise
Into the answering skies from the green ground,
From the man on the stairs and the child by his bed.
The sound about to be said in the two prayers
For the sleep in a safe land and the love who dies

Will be the same grief flying. Whom shall they calm?
Shall the child sleep unharmed or the man be crying?
The conversation of prayers about to be said
Turns on the quick and the dead, and the man on the stair
To-night shall find no dying but alive and warm

In the fire of his care his love in the high room.
And the child not caring to whom he climbs his prayer
Shall drown in a grief as deep as his made grave,
And mark the dark eyed wave, through the eyes of sleep,
Dragging him up the stairs to one who lies dead.

poem by Dylan Thomas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Death Of The First Born

COVER him over with daisies white,
And eke with the poppies red,
Sit with me here by his couch to-night,
For the First-Born, Love, is dead.
Poor little fellow, he seemed so fair
As he lay in my jealous arms;
Silent and cold he is lying there
Stripped of his darling charms.
Lusty and strong he had grown forsooth,
Sweet with an infinite grace,
Proud in the force of his conquering youth,
Laughter alight in his face.
Oh, but the blast, it was cruel and keen,
And ah, but the chill it was rare;
The look of the winter-kissed flow'r you've seen
When meadows and fields were bare.
Can you not wake from this white, cold sleep
And speak to me once again?
True that your slumber is deep, so deep,
But deeper by far is my pain.
Cover him over with daisies white,
And eke with the poppies red,
Sit with me here by his couch to-night,
For the First-Born, Love, is dead.

poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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The Night Of Trafalgar

In the wild October night-time, when the wind raved round the
land,
And the Back-sea met the front-sea, and our doors were blocked
with sand,
And we heard the drub of dead-man's bay, where the bones of
thousands are,
We knew not what the day had done for us at Trafalgar.
Had done,
Had done,
For us at Trafalgar!

'Pull hard, and make the nothe, or down we go!' One says,
says he.
We pulled; and bedtime brought the storm; but snug at home
slept we.
Yet all the while our gallants after fighting through the day,
Were beating up and down the dark, sou'west of Cadiz Bay.
The dark,
The dark,
Sou'west of Cadiz Bay!

The victors and the vanquished then the storm it tossed and tore,
As hard they strove, those worn-out men, upon that surly shore;
Dead Nelson and his half dead crew, his foes from near and far,
Were rolled together on the deep that night at Trafalgar!
The deep,
The deep,
That night at Trafalgar!

poem by Thomas Hardy
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All Souls

I

A THIN moon faints in the sky o'erhead,
And dumb in the churchyard lie the dead.
Walk we not, Sweet, by garden ways,
Where the late rose hangs and the phlox delays,
But forth of the gate and down the road,
Past the church and the yews, to their dim abode.
For it's turn of the year and All Souls' night,
When the dead can hear and the dead have sight.

II

Fear not that sound like wind in the trees:
It is only their call that comes on the breeze;
Fear not the shudder that seems to pass:
It is only the tread of their feet on the grass;
Fear not the drip of the bough as you stoop:
It is only the touch of their hands that grope -
For the year's on the turn, and it's All Souls' night,
When the dead can yearn and the dead can smite.

III

And where should a man bring his sweet to woo
But here, where such hundreds were lovers too?
Where lie the dead lips that thirst to kiss,
The empty hands that their fellows miss,
Where the maid and her lover, from sere to green,
Sleep bed by bed, with the worm between?
For it's turn of the year and All Souls' night,
When the dead can hear and the dead have sight.

IV

And now that they rise and walk in the cold,
Let us warm their blood and give youth to the old.
Let them see us and hear us, and say: 'Ah, thus
In the prime of the year it went with us!'
Till their lips drawn close, and so long unkist,
Forget they are mist that mingles with mist!
For the year's on the turn, and it's All Souls' night,
When the dead can burn and the dead can smite.

V

Till they say, as they hear us - poor dead, poor dead! -
'Just an hour of this, and our age-long bed -
Just a thrill of the old remembered pains
To kindle a flame in our frozen veins,
Just a touch, and a sight, and a floating apart,
As the chill of dawn strikes each phantom heart -
For it's turn of the year and All Souls' night,
When the dead can hear, and the dead have sight.'

VI

And where should the living feel alive
But here in this wan white humming hive,
As the moon wastes down, and the dawn turns cold,
And one by one they creep back to the fold?
And where should a man hold his mate and say:
'One more, one more, ere we go their way'?
For the year's on the turn, and it's All Souls' night,
When the living can learn by the churchyard light.

VII

And how should we break faith who have seen
Those dead lips plight with the mist between,
And how forget, who have seen how soon
They lie thus chambered and cold to the moon?
How scorn, how hate, how strive, we too,
Who must do so soon as those others do?
For it's All Souls' night, and break of the day,
And behold, with the light the dead are away. . . .

poem by Edith Wharton
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Dust Child

Come child sleep here by my side
Come child breathe your lungs a little while
Come child sleep here by my side
Come child to your surrender

Sleepwalking angel
Travel through a lonely house
Inspire hollow
Sadly follow
Your way to find me here

Come child sleep here by my side
Come child breathe your lungs a little more
Come child sleep here by my side
Come child to your surrender

Let dust settle
As blankets for your sleep
The skin tremble form the cold
Slowly'll corrode
Rest while you can
Before the sun comes up
And they'll find you where they find you
Only hope says they'll find you right here

Come child sleep here by my side
Come child breathe your lungs a little while
Come child sleep here by my side
Come child to your surrender

Wander ghostly cherub
Let torrents of empty calm you down
Let the dreams that wait for you dampen your lips
Until you wake and breathe your darling lungs no more...

Come child to your surrender (repeat until fades)

poem by Daniel Oliveira
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All You Want

I'd like to watch you sleep at night
to hear you breathe by my side
And though sleep leaves me behind
there's nowhere I'd rather be
And now our bed is oh so cold
my hands feel empty
no one to hold
I can sleep what side I want
It's not the same with you gone
Oh if you'd come home
I'll let you know that
All you want
Is right here in this room
All you need
Is sitting here with you
All you want

It's been three years
One night apart
but in that night you tore my heart
If only you had slept alone
If those seeds had not been sown

Oh you could come home and you would know that
All you want
Is right here in this room
All you need
Is sitting here with you
All you want

I hear your key turning in the door
I won't be hearing that sound anymore
And you and your sin
can leave the way you just came in
send my regards to her

I hope you've found that
All you want
Is right there in that room
All you need
Is sitting there with you
All you want

I'd like to watch you sleep at night
to hear you breathe by my side

song performed by by Dido from No Angel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sad Night

On the eve of my 21st birthday
I sat alone in freezing temperatures
I walked upon snow and almost slipped on frozen water
The sky was clear above me as a plane flew over head
Dark, cold, lonely, sad night

Amidst the frustration of the winter dog trying to bite my backside
My feet were freezing inside their boots
My body was numb; the icy air ate through my gloves
It provided a bone chilling unpleasantness
It is a cold, lonely, dark, sad night

I called a friend to have a chat, but there was no answer
I was literally standing atop a frozen snow angel
That I had formed with my body a few days earlier
I left a message, not much more to it
Tis a lonely, dark, cold, sad night

I crusaded from one side of the parking lot
To the other in search of light
I could find no sunshine in my presence
Nay, I was shrouded by the deepest blackest shadows
Of the dark, sad, cold, lonely night

I can not sleep, I can not hide
The death’s awake, alive inside.

2-3-09

poem by Jesse Tampa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Let The Night Sleep

Let the night sleep
Sleep for ever deep
With the night I sleep
Beyond the world to peep
Universe will sleep
Plants and trees
Birds and bees
Stars and moon
To sleep very soon!
Fruits and flowers
Joy with showers
Will sleep with me and the night
Not to keep the life very tight!
No dawn of the day
Right upto the dooms day!
Sleep permanent
In the world impermanent
I'll sleep without light
My agonies will sleep
My worries will sleep
My pains will sleep
My sins will sleep!

While in sleep
I am pure
I am peace
I am noble!

While my body is asleep
Awake my soul I keep
Sleep akin to death
Death akin to sleep in mirth?

Let the night sleep
Sleep for ever deep
With night I sleep
Sleep to eternity
Soul to merge in Divinity!

poem by Subbaraman N V
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The Cruel Winds of Winter

Got up this morning, no sun in my eyes,
The house is so cold, no warmth to the fire,
My love is gone, he took all my desire,
And cruel winds of winter howled all night.

My love could warm me in the coldest time,
Bring the light of day to the darkest night,
As tears of my sorrow fall from my eyes,
The cruel winds of winter cry in delight.

Pull on my coat, keep the chill from my side,
I walk by the sea, the salt stings my eye,
The caps are all gray, like clouds in the sky,
And with those cruel winds of winter, I cry.

As tears of my sorrow fall to the sand,
My love is not here to warn my cold hand,
He’s gone like the sun from this harsh, gray land,
And only the wind seems to understand.

This endless winter has replaced his light,
My sweet love gone, no warmth in my sight,
I drift lost and lonely, no sleep I find,
Still those winds cry with me deep in the night.

My heart so heavy, life has no delight,
And the cruel winds of winter, torment my night.

poem by Teresa Dearing
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Outside331’sSleep

Don’t open your eyes yet not until I explain last night I went to bed with Sleep last night I fell for Sleep last night Sleep unclothed me left me naked in a room painted black I couldn’t see Sleep because Sleep was dark too and the room was black and the foreground blended in with the background I couldn’t tell what was far and what was close I became frustrated because Sleep was either hiding inside the room or the room was hiding behind Sleep neither were being fair to my eyes who wanted to play hide and go Sleep I hide inside the room and Sleep seeks I said where are you Sleep I can’t see you my eyes can’t find you Sleep I said I wanted to fall inside you brought me into this black room and I am trying to wrap myself around you won’t you come inside of me you won’t stage scenes in my eyes created with color everything is black one long stretch Sleep are you moving and I can’t see you or are you standing still and I can’t feel you are here Sleep you are silent Sleep I feel alone Sleep I want you to be inside me if you take me to a black room and make me go to bed are your eyes open I can’t see you did you leave is Sleep here Sleep am I inside you explain Sleep explain did you open your eyes Sleep are my eyes open Sleep are you outside me Sleep you took me to bed and left me Sleep I can’t open my eyes until you are back inside me I can’t see Sleep when you’re not inside me open your eyes Sleep do you see me inside you explain last night am I still inside Sleep?

(12-13-07)

poem by Chelsea Trescott
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Ruined Chapel

By the shore, a plot of ground
Clips a ruined chapel round,
Buttressed with a grassy mound;
Where Day and Night and Day go by
And bring no touch of human sound.

Washing of the lonely seas,
Shaking of the guardian trees,
Piping of the salted breeze;
Day and Night and Day go by
To the endless tune of these.

Or when, as winds and waters keep
A hush more dead than any sleep,
Still morns to stiller evenings creep,
And Day and Night and Day go by;
Here the silence is most deep.

The empty ruins, lapsed again
Into Nature's wide domain,
Sow themselves with seed and grain
As Day and Night and Day go by;
And hoard June's sun and April's rain.

Here fresh funeral tears were shed;
Now the graves are also dead;
And suckers from the ash-tree spread,
While Day and Night and Day go by;
And stars move calmly overhead.

poem by William Allingham
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The Zucca

I.
Summer was dead and Autumn was expiring,
And infant Winter laughed upon the land
All cloudlessly and cold;--when I, desiring
More in this world than any understand,
Wept o’er the beauty, which, like sea retiring,
Had left the earth bare as the wave-worn sand
Of my lorn heart, and o’er the grass and flowers
Pale for the falsehood of the flattering Hours.

II.
Summer was dead, but I yet lived to weep
The instability of all but weeping;
And on the Earth lulled in her winter sleep
I woke, and envied her as she was sleeping.
Too happy Earth! over thy face shall creep
The wakening vernal airs, until thou, leaping
From unremembered dreams, shalt ... see
No death divide thy immortality.

III.
I loved--oh, no, I mean not one of ye,
Or any earthly one, though ye are dear
As human heart to human heart may be;--
I loved, I know not what--but this low sphere
And all that it contains, contains not thee,
Thou, whom, seen nowhere, I feel everywhere.
From Heaven and Earth, and all that in them are,
Veiled art thou, like a ... star.

IV.
By Heaven and Earth, from all whose shapes thou flowest,
Neither to be contained, delayed, nor hidden;
Making divine the loftiest and the lowest,
When for a moment thou art not forbidden
To live within the life which thou bestowest;
And leaving noblest things vacant and chidden,
Cold as a corpse after the spirit’s flight
Blank as the sun after the birth of night.

V.
In winds, and trees, and streams, and all things common,
In music and the sweet unconscious tone
Of animals, and voices which are human,
Meant to express some feelings of their own;
In the soft motions and rare smile of woman,
In flowers and leaves, and in the grass fresh-shown,
Or dying in the autumn, I the most
Adore thee present or lament thee lost.

VI.
And thus I went lamenting, when I saw
A plant upon the river’s margin lie
Like one who loved beyond his nature’s law,
And in despair had cast him down to die;
Its leaves, which had outlived the frost, the thaw
Had blighted; like a heart which hatred’s eye
Can blast not, but which pity kills; the dew
Lay on its spotted leaves like tears too true.

VII.
The Heavens had wept upon it, but the Earth
Had crushed it on her maternal breast

...

VIII.
I bore it to my chamber, and I planted
It in a vase full of the lightest mould;
The winter beams which out of Heaven slanted
Fell through the window-panes, disrobed of cold,
Upon its leaves and flowers; the stars which panted
In evening for the Day, whose car has rolled
Over the horizon’s wave, with looks of light
Smiled on it from the threshold of the night.

IX.
The mitigated influences of air
And light revived the plant, and from it grew
Strong leaves and tendrils, and its flowers fair,
Full as a cup with the vine’s burning dew,
O’erflowed with golden colours; an atmosphere
Of vital warmth enfolded it anew,
And every impulse sent to every part
The unbeheld pulsations of its heart.

X.
Well might the plant grow beautiful and strong,
Even if the air and sun had smiled not on it;
For one wept o’er it all the winter long
Tears pure as Heaven’s rain, which fell upon it
Hour after hour; for sounds of softest song
Mixed with the stringed melodies that won it
To leave the gentle lips on which it slept,
Had loosed the heart of him who sat and wept.

XI.
Had loosed his heart, and shook the leaves and flowers 75
On which he wept, the while the savage storm
Waked by the darkest of December’s hours
Was raving round the chamber hushed and warm;
The birds were shivering in their leafless bowers,
The fish were frozen in the pools, the form
Of every summer plant was dead
Whilst this....

poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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Round Room

My room is round when I lay down, when I wake up it's square
When I go outside it's on a spiral set of stairs
The people that surround me are waiting out there
In a round room they can't find me anywhere
Right angle rooms drive me crazier each day
Put me in a box I know I'm never going to play
Put me in a square room and I won't know what to say
I want a round room at the end of the day
I had an apartment, four corners on the walls
Couldn't eat, couldn't sleep there at all
I want a curve to the place where I stay
I want a round room at the end of the day
If I pass out take me to the round church
Where echoes resound
And my spirit is found
And when I float high
Take my arm and I'll fly you by
The outskirts of town, to a garden that's round
I went to the lighthouse and I liked the view
I looked out the window and I could see you
Put me in a square house and I won't have a clue
I want a round room just to be with you

song performed by by Phish
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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This night is not too cold

This night is not too cold
This morning is not frozen as usual
Without you
It’s time to wake up form long winter sleep
Wind blows late crystal snows
Shine the sun on horizon
Spring coming
This night is not too cold
Really, this night is not too cold

poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Home

I came back late and tired last night
Into my little room,
To the long chair and the firelight
And comfortable gloom.

But as I entered softly in
I saw a woman there,
The line of neck and cheek and chin,
The darkness of her hair,
The form of one I did not know
Sitting in my chair.

I stood a moment fierce and still,
Watching her neck and hair.
I made a step to her; and saw
That there was no one there.

It was some trick of the firelight
That made me see her there.
It was a chance of shade and light
And the cushion in the chair.

Oh, all you happy over the earth,
That night, how could I sleep?
I lay and watched the lonely gloom;
And watched the moonlight creep
From wall to basin, round the room,
All night I could not sleep.

poem by Rupert Brooke (1913)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Sleep Forever

Down I lie
Sleeping all day
Still asleep for years
Surrounded by tears
Of friends, relations and further
But still sleep, sleep and sleep forever.

My eyes all closed extremely shut
My body is dry, straight and flat
As I lie in wooden house
Helpless like a dead mouse
Alone with no any other
As I sleep, sleep and sleep forever.

In my best black suit
My voice on mute
Waiting for the judgement
In a new environment
Coping with underground weather
As I sleep, sleep and sleep forever.

I've left all my worth
And ignored all my breath
Tell that I slept to each and every head
For that's a polite word to me as the dead
To come back I'll never
It's a sleep, sleep and sleep forever.

poem by Walani Ndhlovu
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Nice to Be Winter

It must be nice to follow fall
Rest, my babies, rest
To blanch the landscape, trees and all
Rest, my babies, rest

To still the flies and honey bees
Blowing snow in swirling wreathes
And comb the pines with a frozen breeze
To ice the waves which rule the seas

It must be nice to be winter

It must be nice to sew for spring
Sleep, my babies, sleep
Soon to melt from everything
Sleep, my babies, sleep

To brighten night with a moonlit glare
The might of slumber’s quiet fare
And whistle whispers in the air
To cure the world of summer’s ware

It must be nice to be winter

poem by Kimberley Myles
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Wintertime

Winter has come with his cold breeze
Oh how I missed the long nights and cold air
Noble winter do as whatever you please

Some bees hide in their trees
The fauna and flora in winter so rare
Winter has come with his cold breeze

You all mighty of all season that freeze the seas
Warm us with your artic flare
Noble winter do as whatever you please

Oh great winter now that I m on my knees
The snow might have something to spare
Winter has come with his cold breeze

Yesterday was like a gentle kiss
There where so many stars to stare
Noble winter do as whatever you please

So you have brought us many diseases
Now in winter people so scare
Winter has come with his cold breeze
Noble winter do as whatever you please

poem by Ayrtonn Bautista
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Silent Night

Silent night, holy night,
All is calm, all is bright.
Round yon virgin mother and child,
Holy infant so tender and mild,
Sleep in heavenly peace,
Sleep in heavenly peace.
Weve kissed the kids goodnight,
Weve got their stockings by the fire.
A flame lights up the room and hand in hand,
We watch it start to snow.
The lights glow on the tree,
And we drink last hot coffee.
Your heads upon my shoulder,
And they just played misletoe and wine on the radio.
Silent night, holy night,
All is calm, all is bright.
Round yon virgin mother and child,
Holy infant so tender and mild,
Sleep in heavenly peace,
Sleep in heavenly peace.

song performed by by Cliff Richard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Whats Become Of The Baby

Waves of violet go crashing and laughing
The rainbow winged singing birds fly round the sun
Sun bells rain down in a liquid profusion
Mermaids on porpoises draw up the dawn
Whats become of the baby this cold december morning?
Songbirds frozen in their flight
Drifting to the earth, remnants of forgotten dreaming
Dawning answer comes there none.
Go to sleep you child, dream of never-ending always
Panes of crystal ice sparkle like waterfalls
Lighting the polished ice caverns of the dawn,
But where in the looking-glass fields of illusion
Wandered the child who was perfect as the dawn?
Whats become of the baby this cold december morning?
Whats become of the baby this cold december morning?
Racing in rhythm of the sun
All the world revolves captured in the eye of woman
Allah, where are you now?
All eyes are blinded by the sparkling waters
Scheherazade gathering stories to tell
But where is the child who played with the sunshines?
And chased the cloud shape to the regions of mind?
Standing stream cries the south wind
Lost in the regions of
Shadow-like chains of illusion, delusions of living and dead.

song performed by by Grateful Dead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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