All Night, All Night
"I have been one acquainted with the night" - Robert Frost
Rode in the train all night, in the sick light. A bird
Flew parallel with a singular will. In daydream's moods and
attitudes
The other passengers slumped, dozed, slept, read,
Waiting, and waiting for place to be displaced
On the exact track of safety or the rack of accident.
Looked out at the night, unable to distinguish
Lights in the towns of passage from the yellow lights
Numb on the ceiling. And the bird flew parallel and still
As the train shot forth the straight line of its whistle,
Forward on the taut tracks, piercing empty, familiar --
The bored center of this vision and condition looked and
looked
Down through the slick pages of the magazine (seeking
The seen and the unseen) and his gaze fell down the well
Of the great darkness under the slick glitter,
And he was only one among eight million riders and
readers.
And all the while under his empty smile the shaking drum
Of the long determined passage passed through him
By his body mimicked and echoed. And then the train
Like a suddenly storming rain, began to rush and thresh--
The silent or passive night, pressing and impressing
The patients' foreheads with a tightening-like image
Of the rushing engine proceeded by a shaft of light
Piercing the dark, changing and transforming the silence
Into a violence of foam, sound, smoke and succession.
A bored child went to get a cup of water,
And crushed the cup because the water too was
Boring and merely boredom's struggle.
The child, returning, looked over the shoulder
Of a man reading until he annoyed the shoulder.
A fat woman yawned and felt the liquid drops
Drip down the fleece of many dinners.
And the bird flew parallel and parallel flew
The black pencil lines of telephone posts, crucified,
At regular intervals, post after post
Of thrice crossed, blue-belled, anonymous trees.
And then the bird cried as if to all of us:
0 your life, your lonely life
What have you ever done with it,
And done with the great gift of consciousness?
What will you ever do with your life before death's
knife
Provides the answer ultimate and appropriate?
As I for my part felt in my heart as one who falls,
Falls in a parachute, falls endlessly, and feel the vast
Draft of the abyss sucking him down and down,
An endlessly helplessly falling and appalled clown:
This is the way that night passes by, this
Is the overnight endless trip to the famous unfathomable
abyss.
poem by Delmore Schwartz
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Related quotes
L'oiseau bleu
The lake lay blue below the hill.
O'er it, as I looked, there flew
Across the waters, cold and still,
A bird whose wings were palest blue.
The sky above was blue at last,
The sky beneath me blue in blue.
A moment, ere the bird had passed,
It caught his image as he flew.
poem by Mary Elizabeth Coleridge
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Train Of Gold
I saw her there from across the street, she was dressed in black
And when she moved she moved to a beat, like a cadillac
She rode a train, train train train, a train of gold
She was a woman of suspicious ways, never saw daylight
And in her room she sat and passed the days
And shed creep out at night
She rode a train, train train train, a train of gold
Chorus: train of gold, train of gold
It took me so long to find out I was wrong
Now I wait for her in the night
Looked through a window saw a velvet sky, a shade of green
A violin was playing soft and sweet, like it was a dream
She rode a train, train train train, a train of gold
Train of gold, train of gold
It took me so long to find out I was wrong
Now I wait for her in the night
Train of gold, train of gold
I dont believe her, it just couldnt be her
I cant get it out of my mind
song performed by by Electric Light Orchestra
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Death's Wings
Death was a bird that night
An ugly, vicious bird
Death's claws scratched at me
But flew away when I didn't bleed.
As it flew, darkness fell
Wings blocking out the moon.
Death screetched in frustration
When it couldn't break my skin
Death was too obvious
And realised.
Death swooped low that night
And caught her by suprise
Not a sound left its beak, nor her mouth
And death was silently satisfied.
To strike again was simple
Death had learnt a new trick.
And so began a time
That death shed its feathers.
poem by Danielle Guscott
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Silent Cry
Like an injured bird I flew,
Towards endless horizon,
With tattered wings,
And a broken heart.
Through stormy cold dark clouds I flew,
Fiery lightning and thunder loud,
Silent tears fell with the rain drops,
But none will hear my heart cried.
poem by Desert Life
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In the night with you
Last night I saw the full moon
hang yellow-gold through the window,
above your shoulder over the bed.
Your big eyes
mirrored the starry lights from outside
and your beautiful face,
looked soft and full of rest
and peaceful.
The smell of jasmine
from the garden
glided into the room
and while I laid and looked at you,
I knew that I am really living.
Somewhere from one of the trees
a bird called to its mate
and in the night
and for hours,
I laid and waited
for the red morning light to arrive
and for you to awake.
poem by Gert Strydom
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In A Vale
When I was young, we dwelt in a vale
By a misty fen that rang all night,
And thus it was the maidens pale
I knew so well, whose garments trail
Across the reeds to a window light.
The fen had every kind of bloom,
And for every kind there was a face,
And a voice that has sounded in my room
Across the sill from the outer gloom.
Each came singly unto her place,
But all came every night with the mist;
And often they brought so much to say
Of things of moment to which, they wist,
One so lonely was fain to list,
That the stars were almost faded away
Before the last went, heavy with dew,
Back to the place from which she came-
Where the bird was before it flew,
Where the flower was before it grew,
Where bird and flower were one and the same.
And thus it is I know so well
Why the flower has odor, the bird has song.
You have only to ask me, and I can tell.
No, not vainly there did I dwell,
Nor vainly listen all the night long.
poem by Robert Frost
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Manners
For a Child of 1918
My grandfather said to me
as we sat on the wagon seat,
"Be sure to remember to always
speak to everyone you meet."
We met a stranger on foot.
My grandfather's whip tapped his hat.
"Good day, sir. Good day. A fine day."
And I said it and bowed where I sat.
Then we overtook a boy we knew
with his big pet crow on his shoulder.
"Always offer everyone a ride;
don't forget that when you get older,"
my grandfather said. So Willy
climbed up with us, but the crow
gave a "Caw!" and flew off. I was worried.
How would he know where to go?
But he flew a little way at a time
from fence post to fence post, ahead;
and when Willy whistled he answered.
"A fine bird," my grandfather said,
"and he's well brought up. See, he answers
nicely when he's spoken to.
Man or beast, that's good manners.
Be sure that you both always do."
When automobiles went by,
the dust hid the people's faces,
but we shouted "Good day! Good day!
Fine day!" at the top of our voices.
When we came to Hustler Hill,
he said that the mare was tired,
so we all got down and walked,
as our good manners required.
poem by Elizabeth Bishop
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On the Christmas tree
She flew over the fallen snow,
Looking for the lonely soul,
Maybe it was for me,
I don't know.
I saw her light,
one cold Christmas night,
She flew over the forest,
With tears in her eyes,
She found a place to rest,
In the winter skies,
God looked down from above,
His heart was touched by her love,
He said I hope,
that the world sees.
A angel 's light,
shining though the trees,
It's Christmas time.
And God must smile,
For it's the birth day of His child,
He prays that the world,
will someday find peace.
As His heart finds sweet ease,
With the angel's light,
that He sees,
shining through,
His Christmas trees.
She looked up toward heaven,
with tears in her eyes,
She said.,
Im crying for all who,
doesn't know christ,
For those who are blind,
and need to see,
I shine a light,
on the Christmas tree.
It was a cold winter night,
that chilled to the bone,
When I saw the light,
now the angel is gone,
But I will always remember,
that she let me see,
The light of heaven,
on the Christmas tree.
poem by Judy Arline Puckett
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I flew through the sky
I flew through the sky I knew I could fly people asked me why they all got the same answer as I flew through the night I felt like a kite with a personality of my own I flew through the sky I hear someone yell like a cry I flew through the sky it was my mom she missed me much I flew through the sky as I heard crys I lowered down and held her hand we flew through the sky.
poem by Zaraya Berry
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Once by the Pacific
The shattered water made a misty din.
Great waves looked over others coming in,
And thought of doing something to the shore
That water never did to land before.
The clouds were low and hairy in the skies,
Like locks blown forward in the gleam of eyes.
You could not tell, and yet it looked as if
The shore was lucky in being backed by cliff,
The cliff in being backed by continent;
It looked as if a night of dark intent
Was coming, and not only a night, an age.
Someone had better be prepared for rage.
There would be more than ocean-water broken
Before God's last Put out the light was spoken.
poem by Robert Frost
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The Cage
you broke the bread
we drank the wine
your lip was bleedin' but it was fine
come on inside babe
across the line
i love you more than i
but then this bird just flew away
she was never meant to stay
oh to keep her caged would just delay the spring
you broke your word
now that's a lie
we had a deal that you would try
come on inside girl
i think it's time
high time we drew the line
but then this bird just flew away
while i looked the other way
oh to keep her caged would just delay the spring
you broke my soul dear
you stole the plot
you left an empty shot
there's nothing left here
cos you took the lot
an empty cage is all i've got
cos when your bird has flown away
she was never meant to stay
oh to keep her caged would just delay the spring
to keep her caged would just delay the spring
song performed by by Travis from The Invisible Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ghost Train
We were off to visit the Carnival,
Me, George and Julie Anne,
George was our mother's boyfriend,
(Though in fact, he was a man!)
I was seven and Julie six
And our Mum waved us goodbye,
She said she had some shopping to do
Told Julie not to cry!
George looked up to the heavens with
His fake, long-suffering grin,
For Julie cried a helluva lot,
She couldn't keep it in,
He took us down on the bus that night
There wasn't room to park,
The evening stars were coming out
It was getting kinda dark.
We saw the lights of the Carnival
And Julie's face lit up,
There were lots of rides and coconut shies
And Julie rode in a duck,
While George and I on the rifle range
Picked off some metal bears,
That raced across at the back, stood up,
Then fell to the pellets there.
There were clowns and men with megaphones,
And Chili Dogs with cheese,
And plenty of fluffy candy floss
That Julie stuck to her knees,
There was soda pop at this little shop
And we ate and drank our fill,
While George went up on a flying fox
And he said: ‘Now you be still! '
The evening mist came down at last
And George said we should go,
For Julie Anne was ready for bed
But I said, ‘Can't we go? '
I pointed over the other side
Where a stall was draped in black,
With a skeleton painted on the front
Near a man with a bowler hat.
The sign had said ‘The Ghost Train'
And it looked all creepy, too,
With little cars that rumbled along
With room on them for two,
So George went over and paid the man
Who gave us an awful leer,
Said, ‘Come on kids, here's an empty one,
We can sit you both down here.'
So I sat me down on the outside
Julie Anne was next to me,
The car jerked once, then rumbled off
Through a curtain, I said ‘Wheee! '
We travelled into the darkness
With the odd red flashing light,
A spider brushed against Julie's cheek
And she screamed in a sudden fright.
A skeleton stuck out its bony arm
And it made a horrible sound,
Much like the scream of a banshee
Then a monster spun it around,
Its head revolved on its shoulders
And its teeth were yellow and red,
As a witch on a broomstick flew at us
And sailed right over my head.
I think I must have been more than pale
As the train passed ghosts and lights,
And creepy-crawly horror things
That would give you an instant fright,
We went through a darkened spider den
It was then that I looked around,
No Julie Anne, just an empty seat
As the car went thundering down.
I called and called for Julie Anne
But I couldn't hear her scream,
Only the weird and ghostly sounds
As that train passed by in a dream,
But then it parted the curtain and
I found myself in the air,
With George just standing there startled
Running his fingers through his hair.
‘What have you done with Julie Anne? '
He shook me, made me sick,
‘She disappeared in the tunnel there,
It must be a Ghost Train trick! '
Then George looked round for the barker,
For the man in the bowler hat,
But the man had gone, and the lights went down
And the car sat, still on the track.
‘Your mother will kill me, ' George had cried
As he dived through the curtain there,
I followed him in, I wouldn't be left
With the crazies at the Fair,
We stumbled over the rails, and fought
The cobwebs and the freaks,
With George still calling out ‘Julie Anne! '
In a voice that sounded bleak.
We went right through, saw nobody,
And stood in a sweat outside,
When suddenly there was a rumbling
From a car that was still inside,
The curtain parted, the car came out
With a woman as old as Pan,
She staggered up with a walking stick
And she cried: ‘I'm Julie Anne! '
12 September 2012
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Shooting Star Flew By One Night
A shooting Star flew by one night
I wished upon its burning light
I wished for love to fill a heart
For love taken away in the dark
A Shooting Star flew by one night
I wished upon its burning light
My wish was answered by you and you
Who would have known the love of few
Would grow to heaven’s blue
A Shooting Star flew by one night
I wished upon its burning light
A knight in shining armor you might not be
A protector with strength and love you have given me
A Shooting Star flew by one night
I wished upon its burning light
Your love for us you have not failed
You took our hands and rode the Shooting Star’s tail
A Shooting Star flew by one night
I wished upon its burning light
Although I wished for many more
My love for you I will always adore
A Shooting Star flew by one night
I wished upon its burning light
May heaven bring us Peace
Your love for us will never cease
poem by Anthony Wayne Parran
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Heart Of The Flower
Now at the station, the train to another land
Lands of never seen light, light hidden in infinite night
Night in its biggest might, might of the strongest power
And there the smoke of the train to the heart of the flower
I take the first train to the heart of the flower
I take the first train to the heart of the flower
And there the smoke of the train to the heart of the flower
And there the smoke of the train to the heart of the flower
The waiting room of kingdom come, I look back upon my life
Life of loss but now the end
End of rat race overdrive
Overdrive to foreign lands
Lands of contemptous hours
And there the smoke of the train to the heart of the flower
Now on the train
This is the end of my day
I feel my spirits escape like a musical clock thats dying away
I turn once again and wave my hand and say goodbye
I never thought its so easy
I never thought its so easy
I take the first train to the heart of the flower
I take the first train to the heart of the flower
And there the smoke of the train to the heart of the flower
And there the smoke of the train to the heart of the flower
The heart of the flower
The heart of the flower
The heart of the flower
Diamond/1990
song performed by by Alphaville
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Looked At You
i looked at you,
and saw the fugitive
in my mirror.
i looked at me,
and saw the child in you.
i looked at God,
and saw the stranger waiting.
i looked at the stranger,
and saw my brother in need.
i looked at freedom,
and saw the bars of the cell.
i looked at the bars,
and saw my spirit walk free.
i looked at anger,
and saw forgiveness waiting.
i looked at forgiveness,
and saw the hands of love.
i looked at my body,
and saw the bird leaving the nest.
i looked at the nest,
and saw a world made of straw.
i looked at today,
and saw the scars of yesterday.
i looked at yesterday,
and saw the dawning of tomorrow.
i looked at the seed,
and saw the plant in fullness.
i looked at fullness,
and saw emptiness the seed.
i looked at you...
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Grey Riders
The night was cold
And the wind was howling
I was awaken by the sound
Of hoof beats pounding.
Outside the window, on the ground
Our hound dog was growling
Grey riders flew across my lawn
I looked again and they all were gone.
That voice was calling
And it cut through the night
Come on boys, let her go.
Up on a hill
They rode in one long column
They were freezing with the chills
Of the new day dawning.
Their hair long and grey
They heard just one voice calling
Grey riders on the morning sky,
The sun made diamonds of their road-weary eyes.
That voice is calling
And it cut through the night
Come on boys, let her go.
The night was cold
And the wind was howling
I was awaken by the sound
Of hoof beats pounding.
Outside the window, on the ground
Our hound dog was growling
Grey riders flew across my lawn
I looked again and they all were gone.
That voice was calling
And it cut through the night
Come on boys, let her go.
song performed by by Neil Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Firefly
In the midst of a dark Jungle,
Just beneath the infinite sky,
Illuminating the bleak trees,
There lived a lonely firefly.
He flew to every corner of the woods,
None to love he could find,
Flapping his wings, with thirty eyes he searched,
Leaving an evanescent trail of light behind.
Hopeless and heartsick, he gave up,
In bittersweet melancholy he began to cry,
But suddenly in the sky shimmering with light,
he saw the prettiest firefly.
The brightest glowing light it had,
Radiant golden like a honey dipped dove,
And right that instant our little firefly,
Irrevocably fell in love.
He flew towards her, wanting to touch,
So that her beauty he could feel,
And after his endless solitude,
finding her, to him seemed unreal.
He saw her every night, at the same place.
She never seemed to get near,
She was always silent, just shone like a diamond,
On the thought of losing her, he shook with fear.
Our little firefly decided to reach her at once,
He flew, with him an aureate stream,
He flew the entire night determined to meet her,
But alas, could never fulfill this dream.
Soon the poor firefly, lost his never ending battle,
He perished unloved, his wings like a tattered kite,
But the forest continued to illumine beneath,
the glory of the eternal starlight.
poem by SaviorsLavish Human
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Stardom or Boredom! A LONELY RED BIRD Flies in My Natural Kingdom!
I am eight and twenty, a lonely rose – no one close to sit with;
Here are no companions nor kin and kith, I live in lonely myth!
Sitting in the empty hall by myself at the day dawn in the white;
I feel awful – awful beyond all – crying gently dusk in the night.
Stardom or boredom! A lonely red bird flies in my natural kingdom!
Harum-scarum! Humdrum! A solo bird beats the lonely drum!
Aloof I am, sitting in the dark; aloof I am, with my lonely bark;
Aloof I am, butterflies helter-skelter in me at lonely gaze!
Aloof I am, there is a void; there is a vacuum in my lonely daze;
Aloof I am sitting with empty ache; aloof I am – a lonely lark.
Stardom or boredom! A lonely red bird flies in my natural kingdom!
Harum-scarum! Humdrum! A solo bird beats the lonely drum!
Aloof I am, these many shocks, lonely talks only for me, tell me why?
Aloof I am, I beg thee – don’t enter my only soul everyday, I say....
Aloof I am, I don’t want to be aloof in anyway – even on holiday;
Aloof I am, I say thee – I don't want to live, I want to die for lonely sigh!
Stardom or boredom! A lonely red bird flies in my natural kingdom!
Harum-scarum! Humdrum! A solo bird beats the lonely drum!
Aloof I am – a sole flower in a field; a sole child does not shield;
Aloof I am – a moonless night, stormy weather sets the tone…….
Aloof I am in turbulent weather, me a solo feather in deserted scene;
Aloof I am, in lonely battle, with a fresh cut I gave up! I yield!
Stardom or boredom! A lonely red bird flies in my natural kingdom!
Harum-scarum! Humdrum! A solo bird beats the lonely drum!
poem by Harindhar Reddy
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Magellanic Penguin
Neither clown nor child nor black
nor white but verticle
and a questioning innocence
dressed in night and snow:
The mother smiles at the sailor,
the fisherman at the astronaunt,
but the child child does not smile
when he looks at the bird child,
and from the disorderly ocean
the immaculate passenger
emerges in snowy mourning.
I was without doubt the child bird
there in the cold archipelagoes
when it looked at me with its eyes,
with its ancient ocean eyes:
it had neither arms nor wings
but hard little oars
on its sides:
it was as old as the salt;
the age of moving water,
and it looked at me from its age:
since then I know I do not exist;
I am a worm in the sand.
the reasons for my respect
remained in the sand:
the religious bird
did not need to fly,
did not need to sing,
and through its form was visible
its wild soul bled salt:
as if a vein from the bitter sea
had been broken.
Penguin, static traveler,
deliberate priest of the cold,
I salute your vertical salt
and envy your plumed pride.
poem by Pablo Neruda
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The Lonely Dove
A lonely dove struggled above
an ocean without a shore.
Weary of crying, "I am dying,
help me, I can fly no more." He wept alone and tried to wing on
but was too spent with pain.
He had no nest, or place of rest,
and fell, never to rise again. Now there is an empty space
where the lonely dove once flew.
For on one at all heard his haunting call
and only the Father his anguish knew. Now there is an empty space
where the lonely dove once flew.
For no one at all heard his haunting call
and only the Father his anguish knew.
Now just an empty silence falls
where the lonely dove cried alone.
For his calls ceased as he made his peace
and a deaf and blind world turns on.
poem by Kathy Dyer
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