Dusk last light
As noon last light
end slowly,
the twilight sleep
tiredly,
with promise of rise
up tomorrow,
to borrow many things
coldly.
is this you dusk?
and the roads become
unseen
slowly, moon appears boldly
to show correct way,
why are you so pretty dusk?
to attract me or to
distract me
yes! dusk its you with
pretty orange face
gods wonderful grace.....
poem by Deep Doloi
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Evening's Dusk
Evening’s dusk, eerie forebodings,
Making one feel so insecure,
Blotting out distance, shapes of things,
Creating a scene, too obscure,
Shadows that hide the strange unknown,
Lurking when you are out alone.
Evening’s dusk creeps across the sky,
Twelve hours of night has just begun.
Moon hanging motionless up high,
Reflecting light, from earth’s own sun,
Lighting darkness with borrowed rays,
Lifting the black in many ways.
Evening’s dusk, rest for man, not beast,
Off to our homes, we go to rest,
All the days noise has slowly, ceased,
Animals though are on a quest,
For their nuptials they find at night,
When humans are well out of sight.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Sad
dusk to dusk
this sadness
carries a shade
the heart finds
hard to bear
the melancholy
scarlet of dusk
an artist keenly
touches up to portray
the remaining
breaths of the day
the soft breeze
carries your soft sigh
and carress
to bid me farewell
the quiet dusk is
choked with
my longings
for you while divinity
witholds its
consolations
and looks at me
through blood shot eyes
a breathless
conflagration of
copper red,
orange and gold
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Before Dark
Dusk right before dark is my favorite time of each day
The dim light feels as if I am only in this world halfway
Right then it is time for shadows taking over the light
And colors fade slowly to shades of black and white
Sometimes I see the sun bathing all in an orange glow
And I wish I could touch the heat before it let go
During dusk I want to have you close and not be alone
In the fading light your features turn to marble and stone
Right then I want to bring back life into each inch of your skin
I want to touch you and feel your strong heartbeat within
Gently I want to glide my hands over your neck to your chest
Feeling gatherings of hair against my palm if you are undressed
The light of dusk kindles a low fire and put sparks into your eyes
Right than I love to be close to you and renew our strong ties
That time of day brings a natural melancholy to my heart
And I am most responsive when you are gentle with me to start
I know you rather see me passionate demanding and strong
Therefore I want to say thanks for running with my mood along
© 2011
poem by Kristina Louisa Carr
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Sunrise, Sunset
O Sun, When you rise,
It’s morning dawn.
When you set,
It’s evening dusk.
O Sun, Seeing your beauty lighting
Shining on landscape from dawn
Shining on seascape from dusk
It comes from dawn to dusk.
O Sun, rise from East
O Sun, set to West
From East to West,
Celestial light comes and go,
Seasons come and go.
Here come four seasons
North to South, East to West
From Spring comes Autumn,
From Summer comes Winter.
O Sun, From rising East
To setting West
O Moon, Come rising East
To setting West
Cycle never end,
It’s endless cycle,
Seeing sunset every dusk,
Seeing sunrise every dawn.
Making us pondering..
Make us wondering
Where, When will be next..
Sunrise, sunset..
poem by Lawrence Hiung
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0235 The Close
Sit with it like a nurse
at the hour of dusk
every few minutes
glancing over
and seeing its petals
closing, slowly
slowly,
vegetable muscles
we have no word
such awe
and when finally
closed
there's no knowing
whether tomorrow
they will
open
I wish
your death
had been like that
poem by Michael Shepherd
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The lost lagoon
It is dusk on the Lost Lagoon,
And we two dreaming the dusk away,
Beneath the drift of a twilight grey,
Beneath the drowse of an ending day,
And the curve of a golden moon.
It is dark in the Lost Lagoon,
And gone are the depths of haunting blue,
The grouping gulls, and the old canoe,
The singing firs, and the dusk and--you,
And gone is the golden moon.
O! lure of the Lost Lagoon,--
I dream to-night that my paddle blurs
The purple shade where the seaweed stirs,
I hear the call of the singing firs
In the hush of the golden moon.
poem by Emily Pauline Johnson
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For M.W.
There is no transcience of twilight in
The beauty of your soft dusk-dimpled face,
No flicker of a slender flame in space,
In crucibles, fragility crystalline.
There is no fragrance of the jessamine
About you, no pathos of some old place
At dusk, that crumbles like moth-eater lace
Beneath the touch. Nor has there ever been.
Your love is like the folk-song's flaming rise
In cane-lipped southern people, like their soul
Which burst its bondage in a bold travail;
Your voice is like them singing, soft and wise,
Your face, sweetly efflgent of the whole,
Inviolate of ways that would feile.
poem by Jean Toomer
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Night Queen
It was deep midnight
the sky was crystal clear
millions not millions
but billions of stars
assembled in the open sky
was it a procession
or obeisance of Night Queen
The downpour of stars
appeared as undulating scarf
studded with jewels
the humming of stars
was breaking silence of nature
as if
singing in praise of night queen
All stars slowly moved down
to horizon of sky
it was the time
for farewell of Night Queen
The king of the day sent a gift
of morning star to embellish her neck
then with a reddish shawl on her shoulder
I asked one of star
why do you assemble after every dusk
the star could not answer
after asking so many stars
I could know the Venus comes
after every dusk
to receive the Night Queen
The Night Queen comes to meet
her beloved Moon and slowly covers
the face of moon for a night
The Night Queen covers the entire creatures
under her veil to give them rest
and to give relief from days toil.
poem by Ramesh Rai
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Dreams in the Dusk
Dreams in the dusk,
Only dreams closing the day
And with the day’s close going back
To the gray things, the dark things,
The far, deep things of dreamland.
Dreams, only dreams in the dusk,
Only the old remembered pictures
Of lost days when the day’s loss
Wrote in tears the heart’s loss.
Tears and loss and broken dreams
May find your heart at dusk.
poem by Carl Sandburg
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Research on Cinderalla - after Shel Silverstein In search of Cinderalla
From dawn til dusk,
from land to land,
without too much ado,
I'd seek the perfect ankle,
From dawn til dusk
I'd stretch my hand
to virgin, husk, - not you! -
perceptions change, oh dear, they do!
perfection minds must rankle
In Search of Cinderella
From dusk to dawn,
From town to town,
Without a single clue,
I seek the tender, slender foot
To fit this crystal shoe.
From dusk to dawn,
I try it on
Each damsel that I meet.
And I still love her so, but oh,
I've started hating feet.
- Shel Silverstein
poem by Jonathan Robin
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This Mighty Wanderer
Standing on a cliff overlooking the sea
I stare out at the restless waters below,
slowly moving in and out
with each incoming and receding tide.
Like a nomad ever seeking
a new place to rest its head.
Its colours always changing
under the rays of the sun,
wandering restlessly forever
from dawn to dusk,
dusk to dawn
in its never-ending travels
in this worldwide.
This mighty wanderer
only comes to shore
at the incoming tide.
17 September 2008
poem by David Harris
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Dusk Till The Next Dusk
i shall watch the coming of dawn
slits of light from the leaves of dark trees
glimmering packets of light
from the hiding sun on the side of the big mountain
i am dusk
and i am ready with the last breath i have
to face my death at the coming of day
this morning
tonight i prepare to live again
on this constant resurrection
i am dusk
i die when your light comes
i always live in the little dark corner
of my sadness
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Nature At Dusk
Butterfly, butterfly, up so high
Your radiant colors as you glide
As the mockingbird sings so sweet and soft
Flowers of beauty and rich scents fill the air with tranquility and serenity
Bumblebees slowly and delicately hum their lullaby to all the creatures
The stars and the fireflies are nightlights to the creatures' babes
The wolf howls gently and sincerely to call the moon out of the clouds
Woodpecker beating his drum to tell the night it is time to overpower the day sky
At last, it is dusk
There is no movement or sound
The singing, the humming, the howling, the drums, and the wind too, all are silent and idle
Every creature is asleep and peacefully quiet
This is nature at dusk
poem by Caroline Bulleck
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Learn To Wait
itis dark,
dusk.behind are shadows.
they are shapes
of flowers
behind this little darkness
that slowly
disappear giving way
to a brighter day.
just wait.
do not go back to sleep.
watch a new bloom
of day
go out and play.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Enough Of Words And Thoughts
to rest my eyes
i go to the garden and
gaze upon those
leaves
the leaves become
caressing hands
stroking the
soft eyelashes
and rubbing my forehead
with the coolness of
its epidermal
gifts
it is dusk and
light slowly ascends
from the thighs
of the lady mountain
i am lustful at dawn
at noon
they say i am
poetic
i want action tonight
not just words
i call her by the phone
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Scots Family,1999
The young man, leaving by air,
a brisk wave at the turnstile,
a safe arrival on a sandy airstrip
where dawn and dusk are regular all year.
His sister, in London,
one among hordes of pretty postgraduates
picking fruit and books at charing Cross,
not yet ready to return.
And now their parents,
suddenly not so young,
locking their car and walking down a pavement
very slowly to the polling station.
poem by Sally Evans
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Ode to Persephone and Gwydion
Moon rise high above the sky
Light shine
Down
Mist floating in the air
Breeze rustling the leaves
Blowing
Sending them on there way
Moon light eliminate
The hidden
The dark
Show the path
For a journey to start
A whisper
A breeze
Winter’s arising on the dusk
A message of renewal
Death
Natures end to another year
Another time
Slips away
Silent’s stalks the night
Dawn
A new beginning
A past end
Sleep
Reawaken when spring arrives
Life
Coming back to the Earth
A cycle completed
A mystical journey’s end
(2: 23 a.m.11/4/08)
poem by James Strachota
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The lunar blossom
I am the flower of the moon
Who stands tall in the darkness
I am the light of shadows
Who wander perpetually
I rest in serene silence
The music of the night
The dusk showers fall
And I stay ablaze
As small as a mouse
With purpose larger than life
I sail ebony waters
Obsidian winds fill my sails
I am the boat of life
The beacon of hope
I am seemingly irrelevant
Only to blind who do not seek their truths
Through the day I stay
My light spears dusk like tusk
I am the flower of the moon
Who stands tall in darkness
poem by Logan Fulk
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When the sun goes down late in the afternoon (anaphora poem)
When late in the afternoon the sun hangs just above the trees and hillocks,
I think that you must experience the colours of the clouds yourself
I think that it would be pretty in a landscape painting,
I think that this dusk brings a silence, that it’s lonely without you,
I think that you are late, are maybe still working, or have got some other plans
I think that the gathering clouds will catch you with rain,
I think that the doves tomorrow evening will also be in love and coo like this,
I think that the jasmine and lavender tomorrow evening will also fill the air.
I think I will dream of branches that hit from the wind on the roof,
I think that maybe tomorrow I will see you for the last time.
poem by Gert Strydom
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A Song Of Spring
The Spring comes slowly up this way,
Slowly, slowly,
Under a snood of hodden grey.
The black and white for her array,
Slowly, slowly,
The Spring comes slowly up this way.
Where is her green that was so gay?
Slowly, slowly,
The Spring comes slowly up this way.
Unto a world too sick for May,
Slowly, slowly,
The Spring comes slowly up this way.
Where are the lads that used to play?
Slowly, slowly,
The Spring comes slowly up this way.
She has no heart for holiday,
Slowly, slowly,
The Spring comes slowly up this way.
The trees are out in Heaven they say.
Slowly, slowly,
The Spring comes slowly up our way.
poem by Katharine Tynan
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