On the Edge of an Old Water
Dark interpretation of the water: stars in the mouth of the night,
Sighing in black pillows the rosy shadow of man,
Redness of autumn, the rustling of the maple in the old park,
Chamber concerts which fade on decayed stairs.
poem by Georg Trakl
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Related quotes
Deliriums
[1 is missing]
2
Dark interpretation of the water: forehead in the mouth of the night,
Sighing in black pillows the rosy shadow of man,
Redness of autumn, the rustle of the maple in the old park,
Chamber concerts which fade on decayed stairs.
3
The black excrement, which runs off the roofs.
A red finger dips into your forehead
Blue snow sinks in the attic,
The deceased mirror of lovers.
poem by Georg Trakl
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On the Edge of an Old Well
Dark interpretation of the water: broken forehead in the mouth of the night,
The boy's bluish shadow sighing in black pillows,
The rustling of the maple, steps in the old park,
Chamber concerts which fade on a spiral staircase,
Perhaps a moon which quietly climbs the steps.
The gentle voices of the nuns in the decayed church,
A blue tabernacle which slowly opens,
Stars which fall on your bony hands,
Perhaps a walk through abandoned rooms,
The blue tone of the flute in the hazel bushes - very quietly.
poem by Georg Trakl
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Twice The Maple Blushes
O, twice the maple blushes, blushes rosy, rosy red;
She blushes in the Spring-time,
When aroused from Winter's sleep,
She finds herself all naked
And the gaping world apeep,
O, then the maple blushes, blushes rosy, rosy red.
Once again the maple blushes, blushes rosy, rosy red;
She blushes in the Autumn,
When she lays her robes aside
For the long, long sleep of Winter,
And finds naught 'neath which to hide,
O, then the maple blushes, blushes rosy, rosy red.
poem by James Edwin Campbell
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I Watch The Moon From My Maple Tree
As I watch the moon
So quietly
From high above
In my maple tree
I see the stars
That shine all night
They speak to me
Making sure I'm alright
My life is hard
But I'm ok
Watching the show
With nothing to say
As the moon and the stars
Dance the night away
I sit and stare
Like I can't in the day
When I'm up so high
I feel so free
Happy and safe
In my maple tree
The moon is the sun
That shines in the dark
I can see it from bed
Or from way in the park
It helps me a lot
The moon is my guide
And 'I love that old tree'
I queitly sighed
poem by Miranda Van Yperen
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Three Dark Shadows
Three dark
Shadows lurking
In the dark park
On a dark night
One leads
The two others
Follow wearing
Black raincoats
On a dark road
I lead
I tell them
My name
My work
My place
The two
Did not follow
Since then
They realized
Perhaps that
With what
I tell them
I am blacker
Than black
On a dark
Raincoat
On a dark
Park
On a dark
Road
&
In my dark
Mind
It would
Be so hard
For them
To follow
Through &
Through.
They quit
They split
&
So I
Walk alone
In the dark
As one lonely
Shadow
Darker than
Dark
&
Now
It is you
Here
Following me?
In fact
We change
And it is
You
In effect
Who is
Leading me
Through
These lines
Flowing
Slowly
Gradually
Getting
Darker than
Dark
You have
Indulged &
Surely
You are
Involved
Deeply
Long enough
You win
& lose…
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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40
Three dark
Shadows lurking
In the dark park
On a dark night
One leads
The two others
Follow wearing
Black raincoats
On a dark road
I lead
I tell them
My name
My work
My place
The two
Did not follow
Since then
They realized
Perhaps that
With what
I tell them
I am blacker
Than black
On a dark
Raincoat
On a dark
Park
On a dark
Road
&
In my dark
Mind
It would
Be so hard
For them
To follow
Through &
Through.
They quit
They split
&
So I
Walk alone
In the dark
As one lonely
Shadow
Darker than
Dark
&
Now
It is you
Here
Following me?
In fact
We change
And it is
You
In effect
Who is
Leading me
Through
These lines
Flowing
Slowly
Gradually
Gettin g
Darker than
Dark
You have
Indulged &
Surely
You are
Involved
Deeply
Long enough
You win
& lose…
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Inside The Cross of Iron Shadow
Inside The Cross of Iron Shadow
====================
Shape to Guide Aligned by Light
Formed of Cross Divide of Shadow
Light to Darken The Cross Within
The Dark Surround The Light With Out
Shape To Confine The Shadow Caste Of Iron Cross
Pieced Together The Puzzle Within
Immediate Light of Circumstantial
Fade to Black
Cross Fade to Light
The Sound Staged Within
Shadow Sounds Free of Night
Forged Of Iron Shadow
Holier Than Thou Be This Shadow Cross of Age
Cast of Moon Beam of Light to Burn
Outline of Cross Confines The Shadow Dark
Which Binds A Mind To Light
Fore There In No Way Exist
This One Without The Other Side of Good
As Day to Blackest Night of Evil
As Sun Give Rise to Dawn To Cast Away
The Nightmare Within A Mind Of Day and Shadow
Night of Day To Darkest Cross Beam of Light
To Light A Mind Eclipsed In Shadow
Forever In Light To Dark Shade of Gray Matter
Inside The Cross Of Iron Shadow.
poem by Ricardo Antunes
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Helian
In the spirit’s solitary hours
It is lovely to walk in the sun
Along the yellow walls of summer.
Quietly whisper the steps in the grass; yet always sleeps
The son of Pan in the grey marble.
At eventide on the terrace we got drunk on brown wine
The red peach glows under the foliage.
Tender sonata, joyous laughter.
Lovely is this silence of the night.
On the dark plains
We gather with shepherds and the white stars.
When autumn rises
The grove is a sight of sober clarity.
Along the red walls we loiter at ease
And the round eyes follow the flight of birds.
In the evening pale water gathers in the dregs of burial urns.
Heaven celebrates, sitting in bare branches.
In hallowed hands the yeoman carries bread and wine
And fruit ripens in the peace of a sunny chamber.
Oh how stern is the face of the beloved who have taken their passage.
Yet the soul is comforted in righteous meditation.
Overwhelming is the desolated garden‘s secrecy,
As the young novice has wreathed his brow with brown leaves,
His breath inhales icy gold.
The hands touch the antiquity of blueish water
Or in a cold night the sisters’ white cheeks.
In quiet and harmony we walk along a suite of hospitable rooms
Into solitude and the rustling of maple trees,
Where, perhaps, the thrush still sings.
Beautiful is man and emerging from the dark
He marvels as he moves his arms and legs,
And his eyes quietly roll in purple cavities.
At suppertime a stranger loses himself in November’s black destitution;
Under brittle branches he follows a wall covered under leprosy.
Once the holy brother went here,
Engrossed in the tender music of his madness.
Oh how lonely settles the evening-wind.
Dying away a man‘s head droops in the dark of the olive tree.
How shattering is the decline of a family.
This is the hour when the seer’s eyes are filled
With gold as he beholds the stars.
The evening’s descend has muffled the belfry‘s knell in silence;
Among black walls in the public place,
A dead soldier calls for a prayer.
Like a pale angel
The son enters his ancestor’s empty house.
The sisters have traveled far to the pale ancients.
At night, returned from their mournful pilgrimage,
He found them asleep under the columns of the hallway.
Oh hair stained with dung and worms
As his silver feet stepped on it
And on those who died in echoing rooms.
Oh you palms under midnight’s burning rain,
When the servants flogged those tender eyes with nettles,
The hollyhock’s early fruit
Beheld your empty grave in wonder.
Fading moons sail quietly
Over the sheets of the feverish lad,
Into the silence of winter.
At the bank of Kidron a great mind is lost in musing,
Under a tree, the tender cedar,
Stretched out under the father’s blue eyebrows,
Where a shepherd drives his flock to pastures at night.
Or there are screams which escape the sleep;
When an iron angel approaches man in the grove,
The holy man’s flesh melts over burning coals.
Purple wine climbs about the mud-cottage,
Sheaves of faded corn sing;
The buzz of bees; the crane’s flight.
In the evening the souls of the resurrected gather on rocky paths.
Lepers behold their image in dark water;
Or they lift the hemp of their dung soiled attire,
And weep to the soothing wind, as it drifts down from the rosy hill.
Slender maidens grope their way through the narrow lanes of night;
They hope for the gracious shepherd.
Tenderly, songs ring out from the huts on weekend.
Let the song pay homage to the boy,
To his madness to his white eyebrows and to his passage,
To the decaying corpse, who opened his blue eyes.
Oh how sad is this reunion.
The stairs of madness in black apartments –
The matriarch’s shadow emerged under the open door
When Helian’s soul beheld his image in a rosy mirror;
And from his brow bled snow and leprosy.
The walls extinguished the stars
And the white effigies of light.
From the carpet rise skeletons, escaping their graves,
Fallen crosses sit silent on the hill,
The night’s purple wind is sweet with frankincense.
Oh ye broken eyes over black gaping jaws,
When the grandson in the solitude
Of his tender madness muses over a darker ending,
The blue eyelids of the silent god sink upon him.
poem by Georg Trakl
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Pirouetting Autumn
The tree blushed - a rude blast of air
Betrayed a shapely bough.
My saddened heart aware
That Nature's clock was chiming,
I froze upon the twelfth
Clanging tone, caught alone,
Staring at a creaking door -
Left ajar for dancing, coloured Autumn,
Pirouetting in her leaves,
While agitated summer creatures
Backed away resignedly,
Sighing in protracted breves.
I turned; gave company;
We stood together, watching
Summer slowly blow away.
Copyright Mark R Slaughter 2009
A utumn autumn autumn autumn
Autumn autumn autumn autumn
Autumn autumn autumn autumn
Autumn autumn autumn autumn
Autumn autumn autumn autumn
Autumn autumn autumn autumn
Autumn autumn autumn autumn
Autumn autumn autumn autumn
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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The Two Swans
There's a big park just close to where we live —
Trees in a row
And shaggy grass whereon the dead leaves blow.
And in the middle round a great lagoon
The fair yachts sail
In loveliness that makes the water pale.
Last night I went to walk along the road
Beside the park
And feel the kisses of the wintry dark.
It's the best place to watch the evening come
For mists are there
And lights and shadows and the lake is fair
And last night looking up I saw two swans
Fly overhead
With long black necks and their white wings outspread.
Above the houses citywards they went,
An arrowy pair
In secret — white and black and dark and fair.
poem by Lesbia Harford
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A Starry World
When the sun is set, the shadow shine dark
Over the lake, where the stars glitter bright
The Earth sings its lullaby of the lark
In the black surroundings me there is light
From the stars in the sky shining to me
They're like little snowflakes on black velvet
I look up at the night sky and I see
The world unfolds stories across the black net
Stories of heroes, villians, and this world
Where all people live under this sky
And everyone is different but a pearl
The treasure of life that bare
Us together in one chain across the nations
We are like stars on the sky connections.
poem by Nicole Hiebing
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Celestial Coming
I held on tight to the clouds
last night, when
your mouth embraced my mouth
each breath adored my soul.
I felt calmness in autumn
last night, when
your eyes sought
mourned each falling leaf.
Shadow and light pressed limb after limb, wind
shuddered waves
the floating galaxy last night in
your force.
Last night, eternity
was mine lain
on hiding rainbows,
I moaned my greatest fright, I
cried my sweetest blink, when
you tucked the stars, last night
into
my womb.
/Fiction of Rosalinda 2004
poem by Rosalinda Flores Martinez
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About Last Night
the boat was small
the glass window is round
like an eyeball
looking out to the
vast sea
it is dark
the black shark is a shadow
inside the dark
blueness of the
night water
there is a storm
a man stands
waiting for what comes next
he must jump
to the water
if needs be
the big eye of the fish
stares at him
with fury
that night
they were eye to eye
and then the fish
passes away
opposite the boat's
direction
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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When Evil Comes
I don? like this anymore than you
In fact I? scared
At the top of the stairs in the dark
Throw away all the dreams you had
Slow and broke
And just for you
You were barely there
Hey little girl where? your momma gone
Has she left you scared
At the top of the stairs
In the dark
It? too late for come backs
And I?e been wrong before
Now I need
I need no more
Except for you
Making up the sides
Evil is when evil comes
At the top of the Stairs
At the top of the Stairs
And in the dark
The world won? listen
And it gets this scared
Standing there at the top of the stairs
In the dark
Come on baby
Let? lose this fear
And let? stand here
Where it? always fair
And never dark
song performed by by Ocean Colour Scene
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Mood of Depression
You dark mouth inside me,
You are strong , shape
Composed of autumn cloud,
And golden evening stillness;
In the shadows thrown
By the broken pine trees
A mountain stream turns dark in the green light;
A little town
That piously dies away into brown pictures.
Now the black horses rear
In the foggy pasture.
I think of soldiers!
Down the hill, where the dying sun lumbers,
The laughing blood plunges,
Speechless
Under the oak trees! Oh the hopeless depression
Of an army; a blazing steel helmet
Fell with a clatter from purpled foreheads.
The autumn night comes down so coolly.
With her white habit glittering like the stars
Over the broken human bodies
The convent nurse is silent
poem by Georg Trakl
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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.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
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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Aura
The air was dark
The moon was dark
The night was dark
The cloud was dark
The heat was dark
The stars were black
The birds were black
The eyes were black
The shadows were black
The planes were black
A sound of night
The hearts of night
A chase at night
A fall at night
No help at night
The night is night
Where is my sight
I have no sight
Your light was sight
No light no sight
No one in sight
The dark in sight
Don't call my name
What's my name
They call my name
That's not my name
Who said its my name
I have no name
You took my same
It was our same
She was our same
She's now your same
Its all the same
I'm not the same
Judas and my hand
You took my hand
'I do' my hand
You kissed my hand
You broke my hand
You fell my hand
A tear in sand
A heart in sand
A body in sand
Alone in sand
A dust in sand
At home in sand.
poem by Jenim Dibie
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Rambling in the Maple Gardens of Autumn
Rambling in the Maple Gardens of Autumn
Maple-leaves in autumn
pick up
lots of pieces
Write on
iTalk
in the pages
March 21,2008 Hormish Garden of Toronto 6: 00-6: 15am
poem by Hormish Wugh
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Shadow & Jimmy
Shadow and jimmy were always yesterdays news
Jimmys a bowler, shadow rents out his green bowling shoes
Late friday night when the bars are all shuttered and dark
He shadows back jimmy to the lot in the lost trailer park
For shadow and jimmy all the weekends end up the same
If its saturday night, then it must be the hockey game
After cold beer and barbecued ribs the night is complete
With wrestling stories and elegant bones
That are tired of walking and on their way home
Chorus
And they talk about the women
And they look at the girls
Theyll never know the ways of the world
Theyve got a mouthful of much obliged
And a handful of gimme
And the love for each other
Of shadow and jimmy
For shadow and jimmy now the story is told
Theres nothing to hold on to and no one to hold
Men without women are like fish without
Water to swim in
With their eyes bugging out
They flop on the beach
And look up at the girls
Who are just out of reach
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Shadow In The Water
man in a canoe on hot water
paddling away enjoying a good day
shadowed by a giant shark in the water
true colours this guy has a seriously scary shadow
dark black shadow circles banana canoe on calm sea
sun on naked back yellow shadow turquoise water
man madness consumes everything alive
at end of day who is apex predator prey?
sharks prey consume to eat to survive
poem by Terence George Craddock
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