I Am Silence (For Dave)
i am the wolf,
hot breath panting,
teeth gleaming in the darkness...
feet running the path of the night.
i am the hawk,
sucking freedom from the skies,
great wings lifting my soul...
infinity in my eyes.
i am the wind,
born from nowhere,
blowing past destination and thought...
both creation and destruction.
i am the rain,
falling from an unseen source,
to dance in the mouths of the earth...
tears of sorrow and redemption.
i am the moon,
sifting through timeless clouds,
winding through the fingers of trees...
i am hope unnamed!
i am the night,
the intimate touch of darkness,
forgiveness, death, and rebirth...
i am the stillness of god!
i am silence!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Boat Waits
the wolf runs night's paths
with hungry eyes...
magnificent in the moonlight,
panting with desire.
following the scent
from which he came...
he stops in the clearing,
and howls!
the hawk soars the skies,
as if a path.
over mountains and valleys,
in and out of clouds.
eyes intent, with furious purpose...
with wings that taste and touch,
intimate, yet scorched!
the wind blows, the waves come in,
and go out... the boat is empty!
leaves fall from the trees,
only god hears and knows.
and i walk the darkness,
part wolf, part hawk...
both wind and wave...
following the scent,
with desire and purpose!
the boat waits, the lantern is lit!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Tis Breath, Then.... (Part Two)
tis breath, then...
(and still spirits dormant in the night,
leaf, stone, branch, river...
forgotten ants, snails, and crickets,
spiders with infinite webs.
the wolf's howl in waiting,
the owl perfectly still.
worms working silence,
the wings of small birds...
waiting, waiting, waiting...)
tis breath, then...
carrying the plague of war,
deep into the ignorance.
walls built of fear,
and the hunger that devours.
draining color, caged, and panting...
breath crying out for breath,
sorrow unto sorrow...
but tis breath, then...
that forming tongues of soul and spirit,
that falling like passion scented rain,
binds darkness unto darkness,
holding sound in echo's palm.
that rises to the fall,
and falls to the rising.
swallows distance with intimate longing...
calling forth stars and moonlight!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Darkness Of...
Darkness is not the darkness of night
it is the darkness of mind and soul.
darkness is not the darkness of night,
it is the darkness of discrimination between poor and rich.
darkness is not the darkness of night,
it is the darkness of dishonesty.
darkness is not the darkness of night,
it is the darkness of aggravate.
darkness is not the darkness of night,
it is darkness of corruption.
darkness is not the darkness of night,
it is the darkness of indiscipline.
darkness is not the darkness of night,
it is the darkness of animosity.
darkness is not the darkness of night,
it is the darkness of inveterate.
darkness is not the darkness of night,
it is the darkness of perjury.
darkness is not the darkness of night,
it is the darkness that we all brought up inside us,
so, light the lamp of light inside you...
poem by Suniya Garg
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Peace Beyond Time
wolves run
in packs drinking moonlight,
flesh and blood,
hunger and desire!
i am the wolf,
i am the moonlight,
flesh and blood,
hunger and desire.
the hawk glides,
on the wind with eyes,
peeling layer upon layer
for pulsing treasure...
i am the hawk,
i am the wind,
peeling layer upon layer,
for pulsing treasure.
the river winds
through rocks and trees,
making it's own path,
on the way home.
i am the river,
rocks and trees,
making my own path
on the way home....
darkness falls,
wraps around the light,
brings healing stillness,
and peace beyond time.
i am the darkness,
wrapping around light,
i bring healing stillness,
and peace beyond time!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Just Writting About Wolfs
days get colder nights get longer..wind howls a lonely howl
deep in the night a lone wolf howls do his howls fall on def ears
as he sits high upon a cliff looking down upon the woods he calls home
he wonders in the shadows a loner but never really alone
we has the wind the earth and the air that goes threw him
it like an old friend to him the darkness the shadows
the wolf wonders alone in mind and thoughts
whats he thinking of
we may never know know....
but hawk circles above does he hear the howl as the wolf says hello in the nights sky to hawk
flying so live so free
the wolf is the path finder the teacher they finder of the way
the hawk hears the howl and carries the message up to the sky
what the message, , , , , you may as for each its difffenrt each its own sound even one of silance
the wolf knows all is well in the world tonght
dont know why i wrote this one or whats its meaning is just kinda came to me as i sat here watching the football game
hope you all enjoyed
greyicewolf
.
poem by Jeff Greyicewolf
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Death. A Dialogue
Soul.
'TIS a sad Land, that in one day
Hath dull'd thee thus ; when death shall freeze
Thy blood to ice, and thou must stay
Tenant for years, and centuries ;
How wilt thou brook't ?
Body.
I cannot tell ;
But if all sense wings not with thee,
And something still be left the dead,
I'll wish my curtains off, to free
Me from so dark and sad a bed :
A nest of nights, a gloomy sphere,
Where shadows thicken, and the cloud
Sits on the sun's brow all the year,
And nothing moves without a shroud.
Soul.
'Tis so : but as thou saw'st that night
We travail'd in, our first attempts
Were dull and blind, but custom straight
Our fears and falls brought to contempt :
Then, when the ghastly twelve was past,
We breath'd still for a blushing East,
And bade the lazy sun make haste,
And on sure hopes, though long, did feast.
But when we saw the clouds to crack,
And in those crannies light appear'd,
We thought the day then was not slack,
And pleas'd ourselves with what we fear'd.
Just so it is in death. But thou
Shalt in thy mother's bosom sleep,
Whilst I each minute groan to know
How near Redemption creeps.
Then shall wee meet to mix again, and met,
'Tis last good-night ; our Sun shall never set.
JOB, CAP. IO. VER. 21, 22.
Before I go whence I shall not return, even to the
land of darkness, and the shadow of death ;
A Land of darkness, as darkness itself, and of the
shadow of death, without any order, and where the
light is as darkness.
poem by Henry Vaughan
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Grief And Sorrow
grief and sorrow one day
in the life of a man
bathe under the light of
golden silence
together they walk and move
towards the place where patience lives
in the house of simplicity and
forgiveness
under the nooks of forgetting
hope is touched but there are no tears
there is only the dimple of freshness
to start anew
a map unfolds showing the path to tread
on the hills of contentment lies
the new born baby of
happiness
the stars glitter and even the moon which had kept
its silence
slides away from the comfort of the darkness of the
night's embrace
it sings the most beautiful song of solitude
then rests its fullness on the edge of the pond of bliss
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Poet's Dream
i dreamed last night i was walking,
in the company of Robert Bly, and Diane di Prima...
down a stony path in the pitch black darkness.
we walked in silence... listening, just listening.
the wind rustled the tree limbs, sighing...
almost blowing out our lantern.
the spirits of animals, trees, and even the stones
beneath our feet.... testified!
a great haunting wave of peace blanketed us...
and i knew the path we were on to be the right one!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Restlessness
At the open door of the room I stand and look at the night,
Hold my hand to catch the raindrops, that slant into sight,
Arriving grey from the darkness above suddenly into the light of the room.
I will escape from the hollow room, the box of light,
And be out in the bewildering darkness, which is always fecund, which might
Mate my hungry soul with a germ of its womb.
I will go out to the night, as a man goes down to the shore
To draw his net through the surf’s thin line, at the dawn before
The sun warms the sea, little, lonely and sad, sifting the sobbing tide.
I will sift the surf that edges the night, with my net, the four
Strands of my eyes and my lips and my hands and my feet, sifting the store
Of flotsam until my soul is tired or satisfied.
I will catch in my eyes’ quick net
The faces of all the women as they go past,
Bend over them with my soul, to cherish the wet
Cheeks and wet hair a moment, saying: “Is it you?”
Looking earnestly under the dark umbrellas, held fast
Against the wind; and if, where the lamplight blew
Its rainy swill about us, she answered me
With a laugh and a merry wildness that it was she
Who was seeking me, and had found me at last to free
Me now from the stunting bonds of my chastity,
How glad I should be!
Moving along in the mysterious ebb of the night
Pass the men whose eyes are shut like anemones in a dark pool;
Why don’t they open with vision and speak to me, what have they in sight?
Why do I wander aimless among them, desirous fool?
I can always linger over the huddled books on the stalls,
Always gladden my amorous fingers with the touch of their leaves,
Always kneel in courtship to the shelves in the doorways, where falls
The shadow, always offer myself to one mistress, who always receives.
But oh, it is not enough, it is all no good.
There is something I want to feel in my running blood,
Something I want to touch; I must hold my face to the rain,
I must hold my face to the wind, and let it explain
Me its life as it hurries in secret.
I will trail my hands again through the drenched, cold leaves
Till my hands are full of the chillness and touch of leaves,
Till at length they induce me to sleep, and to forget.
poem by David Herbert Lawrence
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Hope within a Flicker Hope of Light
Darkness overrides the midnight moon
a wind of gusty
night blowing;
the despair over
the mid-life of
a rolling emotion.
Future cycles behind
those mountains past -
when a freshness of
hope crawls in.
A query of the mind:
where is that hope of
longing that flows
along with the watery starlit
eyes? when
only darkness
covers the pit of despair in
fields and fields
of red poppy seeds.
A holding of the past
posts leaves of words
to despair -
the hope of singling
is far too great...
bring and guide the trail
of hope towards
darkness that exceedingly
keeps leaves of words
locked in a past...
all the meanwhile
hope is such a bright
and elegant word world...
...when future rolls
in behind those mountains -
gathering of courage will allow
tear stained leaves of words
to be guided
to a light of true inner hope.
poem by Celine Berghmans
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A Ribbon Of Darkness
A ribbon of darkness
streaks across the sky
as far as the eye can see
to beckon on the night skies
at the dusk of day.
A ribbon of darkness
embedded within life’s sorrow,
we hope within our hearts
will all soon fade away.
A ribbon of darkness
that attaches itself to everyone
when twilight skies
eventually come to call.
A ribbon of darkness
that beckons sleep to come
to every nodding head
and death to all those
lying on death’s bed.
16 June 2008
poem by David Harris
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The Wolf and The Moon
The Wolf and The Moon
By Tolly Rebeka Christian BlackWolf Hawk
The day is past and the Moon now rises from beneath the mountain to greet the stars.
The Moon smiles on the sleeping towns, their drone wound down. However, in the
forest, Life is still flowing full speed. The Owl fly’s his “day” begun, “Who, Halloo
Moon! ” “Hello to you Owl.” The Moon spins on his way. He makes many more
greetings to the animals of the forest. He starts to grow weary, and makes ready to bed
down for the day when the Wolf came to visit and talk as the animals and Moon talk,
“My good friend Wolf! How are you? ” Wolf jumps playfully to and fro, “I am glad
Wolf that it has been good for you! It is almost time for the Sun to come up now, I
have to go home.” The Wolf whimpered and followed the Moon. When the Moon was
almost home he turned to the Wolf and asked, “Why do you follow me? ” the Wolf
jumped and landed in the Moons hands and curled up with a tremendous sigh. “No
Wolf you cannot come with me, not yet, but now that I know you love me we will be
together in spirit, and someday you will be able to come with me to my home to live.”
For years, the Wolf ran with the Moon at night, and then they would part ways at
dawn. One day while the sun was shining brightly the Wolf, now old to earthly eyes,
faded to a wisp of mist from mortal sight, on the night of the New Moon. You could
see, that night, a cloud in his shape running before the Moon, and as the Moon grew
fuller you could see on the face of the Moon a shape like that old Wolf, you could see a
promise kept. The Moon and Wolf were friends, one entity forever.
poem by Tolly Rebeka Christian BlackWolf Hawk
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Our Secret Sonar Romances
bats are back
their fruit trees in fruit
night feast flight
flit flit flutter flight
fruit passion consumed
in tree dance flight
season past season
come dance our night
under shades of moon
I click my fingers
a few bats flit flight
fly up circle come
fly past my face
a few feet away
flit flight greetings
they like the audience
sonar image my face
thought whisper greet
ink veil night magic
moon crescent night magic
arch phases paint magic
dark building backdrops
stand tall solid frame trees
in background night prayers
silhouette shadow salutes
sky heaven altar glorious
heart stirs in night shades
friend bats flutter flight
disappearing back into trees
feast feed ripe flower fruits
friend bats I know
your ways of disappearing
friend bats I know
your night vision trails
your night vision paths
your night cycle dances
flowers fade into rebirth
organic petal forget me nots
out of sight out of mind
love is bat night flight born
bats my rest break companions
we share night flight visions
this realm of darkness
our mind flight mansions
our secret sonar romances
Dedicated to Miroslava Odalovic who shared a few of my nights with conversation between ritual night writing songs of creativity.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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The Hawk
The hawk that flies’ above
And circles in the sky
Swoops and glides its self
Majestic in heavens wake
It sores above the clouds
And looks upon the earth
And has seen a many paths
That’s often lost in mother earth
It flies’ among the clouds
And stars and moons of the land
Searching and guiding
The souls that fly in its wake
It screech’s in the night
At the darkness that try to take
The souls that are new
At reaching for the skies
Talons out stretched
It attacks the darkness
That tries to envelop the soul
And rips the enemies’ within
Leaving you fragile and alone
Then it takes its flights
Once more above in flight
And watch’s and waits
For the darkness to hunt
In its flight
poem by Kaila George
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Gasping For Light
1
i built a fire in the yard.
slowly walked back into the house.
gathering everything of value.
my books, my clothes, my boots,
old photographs, letters, pictures,
everything i've ever written.
every memory.
took them outside,
and fed them to the fire!
and walked off barefoot
into the night.
2
lover, dance with me!
we call unto each other
from distances, through barriers,
breaking down walls of seperation;
through tears and angry silence,
echoing through the night.
i kiss your eyes, your lips,
the arch of your neck.
your fingertips, your feet,
the inside of your thighs.
your wetness.
you open your eyes,
and the shadow disappears!
3
spirits dance in the moonlight!
a soft wind rustles
through the trees.
the howl of a dog,
car lights on a forgotten road;
a screen door closes softly.
old house wrapped in stillness.
only a faint sound.
the footsteps of God
walking in your heart!
4
i can smell your perfume,
or maybe the scent of rain coming.
i can taste you in the
cool damp earth,
in the blood of a small animal
killed by a passing car,
in the cry of the baby
waking up hungry,
in the web of the spider.
in the hollow of my soul.
5
two moths lost in the darkness,
gasping for light.
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Summer Showers
Last night
And the night before
It poured and poured
Wind uprooting the trees
Snapping electric lines too…
I sat
In the darkness
Trying to capture
The straying night
I sat
In the darkness
My skin burning
At the hard hitting raindrops
I sat
In the darkness
Listening to the rain
Tiptoeing into my heart
I sat
In the darkness
The rain bringing with it
Your name cascading into my ears
That’s the best part
Of summer showers, you see
They are amazingly refreshing!
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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Something Said Softly
Something said softly in the night
like a tendril on a windowsill
tasting the moon, a whisper, a word
that walked in the light without
abandoning its shadow,
a phrase with wet wings
dreaming itself out of its chrysalis
not knowing whether it's a leaf or a dragonfly
until the whole tree wakes up beside it,
something sought but rarely said
saturated with the meaningless life of meaning
that could touch space like flesh
and make it feel the thrill of new eyes
running down its arm like tears.
And it's not that I want
to unsay the night or God
to define myself as a human,
and it's of little moment to me,
seed on the wind,
what worlds are born of my words,
what ends, what begins,
what comes of what I cannot say,
but I want to say something
with the savour of time in it
that's worth living for a little more each day
like a small tree rooted like a thought
in a crevasse of eternity,
greening the moon.
Late at night, in the darkness,
while the silence is off preserving something,
and all I can hear is your breath
off in the distance like an ocean,
I want to unpack my vagrant heart
like a patched guitar-case,
a grave-robber in a pyramid,
and attune my afterlife
to the key of this one
in such a way
I can play like a new star in Orion
to all the sad, beautiful fireflies of the moment
that hover over us like living constellations of our own
not bound to any paradigm of light
that can only be touched by a mountain of stone.
I want to paint something
that feels like the flower
that just brushed against your hand,
I want to be inspired by the mystic blue of midnight
like window glass fired in the kiln of a star
that has looked upon the suffering of humans for so long,
their atrocities and deprivations,
their terrors and wrecked joys,
compassion has turned it into an eye so clear
you can sip water from it like tears
that taste of the history of blood and wine
that danced alone like a vine at its own wedding
with a bride of rain that unveiled herself
like falling chandeliers.
Unfailingly, absurdly, obsessively human
in the shadow of thundering magnitudes
that feel like the extinctions of gods
that time has wheeled out
to the enormity of the gravepit
that limes every abyss of the heart
with the stars of a new universe,
I want to add one candle to the shining
in a folly of insight so illuminating
even the earliest galaxies
forever entering the darkness
on the threshold of their first shedding
could see it, something
so profoundly vernal and intimate
even I can believe in it.
poem by Patrick White
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The Death of Silence
Let's celebrate the day
The death of silence
When even the soundless creature
Leave an echo
When the quiet evening sky
Speaks more volume
Let's celebrate the day
The death of silence
When the darkness of night
Is calmed by the song of stars
When this cruel and frightening world
Is cheered by the joy of life
Let's celebrate the day
The death of silence
When the trees swaying their branches
Whispering the news from afar
When the stone awaken to tell the story
And no more secret remains hidden
Let's celebrate the day
The death of silence
When the wind fills the void
And noises the ears
When the sunshine touches the skin
And screams in eyes
Let's celebrate the day
The death of silence
When you could taste the heart
Inside the food you eat
When you could understand
The meaning the breath that taken
Let's celebrate the day
The death of silence
When smile is enough
To erase the rotten doubt
When love is abundant
To wash the bitter pain
Let's celebrate the day
The death of silence
When the soul finds its freedom
And not chained in the grief of body
When the call is passing
Through the memory and time
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Heartbreaker
One look and you know shes trouble
Ruby red lips and flashing eyes
Cant resist, you just gotta have her
Ooh its a feeling that you cant disguise
Youre booked on a one way ticket
I can tell you that youre going nowhere
Shes a drug and youre not gonna kick it
Heartbreak city, shell take you there
I know Ive been here before
I read the script, I know the score
Theres no rules, she plays her own game
Shes a real heartbreaker and she brings on the rain
Rain (falling from the skies, falling from your eyes)
Rain (falling from the skies, falling from your eyes)
Thunder, cant you hear it crashing?
Storm clouds are waiting for you up ahead
Lightning, cant you see it flashing?
You havent listened to a word Ive said
Rain (falling from the skies, falling from your eyes)
Rain (falling from the skies, falling from your eyes)
Rain (falling from the skies, falling from your eyes)
Rain (falling from the skies, falling from your eyes)
Rain (falling from the skies, falling from your eyes)
Rain (falling from the skies, falling from your eyes)
Rain (shes a real heartbreaker, a heartbreaker)
Rain (falling from the skies, falling from your eyes)
song performed by by Electric Light Orchestra
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Appreciative Audience.
Soft moonlight filters through the trees
Which seem to dance to melodies
Created by the gentle breeze.
The shadows on the ground dance too
Or to my eyes they appear to
Disintegrate then form anew.
Sometimes the clouds blot out the light
The shadows gain a brief respite.
Rejoin the darkness of the night.
But clouds move on and when they do
And once again moonlight shows through.
The trees will dance, the shadows too.
The sun will rise to start the day.
The dancing shadows hide away
But where they hide no man can say.
The sun completes his daily quest.
Journeying from east to west.
Then sinks below the sea to rest.
The moon will rise she rules the night
Then once again to my delight
She bathes the trees in silver light.
The melodies played by the breeze
Will re awake the sleeping trees.
To dance again with practiced ease.
Beneath the trees reluctantly
the shadows still dance gracefully.
I watch in silence gratefully.
I know they do not dance for me
And I am privileged to see
The shadows dance under the trees.
Friday,23 September 2011
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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