The night watchman
The fire in the holed drum burns bright
and I can see red coals flickering
like the shining stars up in the sky
and white teeth smiles at me
while I walk by
and the night watchman puffs at a cigarette
and with sharp eyes watches
from his black overcoat
as if nothing passes him
with one hand holding a baton
and somewhere up there
eternally a watchman guards
while the lights of his fires beacons the night
against the dark, against evil things.
[References: Nagwag (night watchman) by DJ Opperman and the nightwatchman by Fhazel Johennesse.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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All's Well
Watchman, watchman, what of the night,
What of the night to tell?
The heavens are dark, and never a light
But the far-off flicker of Hell.
But the steed is in the stall,
Unsleeping;
And the warder on the wall,
Watch-keeping;
And the granary is stored,
And ready gun and sword.
In the name of the Lord,
All's Well!
Watchman, watchman, what of the night,
What of the night to tell?
The wind blows fierce, and the foam flies white,
And the waters moan and swell.
But the foes to haven keep,
Safe hiding;
And our ships are on the deep,
Sure riding;
And the gallant hearts on board
Keep ceaseless watch and ward.
In the name of the Lord,
All's Well!
Watchman, watchman, what of the night,
What of the night to tell?
There are widows weeping, and babes affright,
And a ceaseless burial bell.
But the hand that holds the gun
Still shakes not;
And the line drops one by one,
Yet breaks not.
Of the blood so nobly poured
There shall surely be reward.
In the name of the Lord,
All's Well
poem by Francis William Bourdillon
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The Watchman
'Watchman, what of the night?'
'The stars are out in the sky;
And the merry round moon will be rising soon,
For us to go sailing by.'
'Watchman, what of the night?'
'The tide flows in from the sea;
There's water to float a little cockboat
Will carry such fishers as we.'
'Watchman, what of the night?'
'The night is a fruitful time;
When to many a pair are born children fair,
To be christened at morning chime.'
1849
poem by Charles Kingsley
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The Rich
A night watchman; the rich man keeps
So that he can have a sound sleep
The richman spends sleepless night
The watchman has sleep in his eyes.
Servant places delicious and rich food
but there is no time to eat
Doctor advised to leave delectableness
to be healthy and keep fit.
(C) S.D. Tiwari
poem by S.D. Tiwari
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The Watchman of Dark Christmas Night
The brazier’s glowing coals lit up his eyes.
I asked the watchman as he guarded time:
tell me, watchman, of the truth of Night..
he said: when I had conquered all the tasks of day,
I took night-watching as the sternest test,
to seek the weakness, and to seek the strength
which I might find there in my deepest self..
In darkest night, I lost myself – or so
I thought I had: for every night,
as the third hour after midnight moves
into the fourth hour, there came a time
when all one held as precious to oneself,
all joy and consolation, all the point of life
was taken from me… then I felt
myself an abject, faithless wretch..
for it seemed that even God
is in repose, in that abyss of time..
taking from me, even faith,
and hope, and love itself..
and then one day, I saw in paint –
it could have been by Rembrandt’s guided hand –
the darkness, to be full of light..
more full than day itself..
the light itself, as God, all in repose;
and in the darkness are all things
drawn back into themselves;
so that they may awake at dawn
the fresher; Diadochus, holy man,
who knew dark well, for all his holiness,
and welcomed it… gave it a name:
‘educative desolation’ was his term…
for what mortal man would not become complacent
to think he walked with God both day and night?
At that darkest hour, faith, hope, and loving-kindness
may be withdrawn from human kind; yet,
they cannot die, I learned; they must return..
And no one may tell – as shepherds watch,
and angels fill the skies –
what Mary feels, before her faith and hope
are born as joy and love..
what Mary feels, this night as dark as sin..
what Mary feels, before the holy dawn;
only humility, for her, for us,
will see us through the testing hours;
will teach us in this darkest night
the darkness full of brightest light..
We sat there silent for a space,
I and the watchman of the Night;
the brazier glowing warm and bright;
the silence full of grace.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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The Night Sky
The Night Sky
Stars Were So Bright In The Nights Dark Sky
The Little Lights That Lit Up The Black Spots In Space
Stars That We Wondered In
And Saw Many Wonderful Things
Like The Many Stars That Are Out There...
How There Are So Many Lights In The Night Sky...
How The Night Sky Could Look So Great
In Only Black And White
The Same Thing, The Same Looks..
Yet So Many Objects And Point Outs Of Our Imagination
Oh, How The Night Sky
When We Look On about Its The Same Sky We See When We're Away From Each other
The Same Crescent Moon, The Same Stars
The Same Look Outs That Remind Me Of You.
poem by Gabina Gomez
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Vocation
When the gong sounds ten in the morning and I walk to school by our
lane.
Every day I meet the hawker crying, "Bangles, crystal
bangles!"
There is nothing to hurry him on, there is no road he must
take, no place he must go to, no time when he must come home.
I wish I were a hawker, spending my day in the road, crying,
"Bangles, crystal bangles!"
When at four in the afternoon I come back from the school,
I can see through the gate of that house the gardener digging
the ground.
He does what he likes with his spade, he soils his clothes
with dust, nobody takes him to task if he gets baked in the sun or
gets wet.
I wish I were a gardener digging away at the garden with
nobody to stop me from digging.
Just as it gets dark in the evening and my mother sends me to
bed,
I can see through my open window the watchman walking up and
down.
The lane is dark and lonely, and the street-lamp stands like
a giant with one red eye in its head.
The watchman swings his lantern and walks with his shadow at
his side, and never once goes to bed in his life.
I wish I were a watchman walking the streets all night,
chasing the shadows with my lantern.
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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Advent
This Advent moon shines cold and clear,
These Advent nights are long;
Our lamps have burned year after year
And still their flame is strong.
'Watchman, what of the night?' we cry,
Heart-sick with hope deferred:
'No speaking signs are in the sky,'
Is still the watchman's word.
The Porter watches at the gate,
The servants watch within;
The watch is long betimes and late,
The prize is slow to win.
'Watchman, what of the night?' But still
His answer sounds the same:
'No daybreak tops the utmost hill,
Nor pale our lamps of flame.'
One to another hear them speak
The patient virgins wise:
'Surely He is not far to seek'—
'All night we watch and rise.'
'The days are evil looking back,
The coming days are dim;
Yet count we not His promise slack,
But watch and wait for Him.'
One with another, soul with soul,
They kindle fire from fire:
'Friends watch us who have touched the goal.'
'They urge us, come up higher.'
'With them shall rest our waysore feet,
With them is built our home,
With Christ.'—'They sweet, but He most sweet,
Sweeter than honeycomb.'
There no more parting, no more pain,
The distant ones brought near,
The lost so long are found again,
Long lost but longer dear:
Eye hath not seen, ear hath not heard,
Nor heart conceived that rest,
With them our good things long deferred,
With Jesus Christ our Best.
We weep because the night is long,
We laugh for day shall rise,
We sing a slow contented song
And knock at Paradise.
Weeping we hold Him fast, Who wept
For us, we hold Him fast;
And will not let Him go except
He bless us first or last.
Weeping we hold Him fast to-night;
We will not let Him go
Till daybreak smite our wearied sight
And summer smite the snow:
Then figs shall bud, and dove with dove
Shall coo the livelong day;
Then He shall say, 'Arise, My love,
My fair one, come away.'
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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Night Watchman
The leopard's eyes scanned left and right,
As sunshine faded fast,
For soon would come the moon and night,
When one more day had past
And eyes must now be on alert
With instincts borne to bear,
In case there was a need to spurt,
Escaping fast elsewhere...
The leopard's eyes were cooling down
As twilight gathered close,
As clear blue skies turn somewhat brown
And brilliant sunshine goes...
The air has felt a sudden chill
That creatures know full well...
The moon ascends on yonder hill
And casts its silver spell...
The leopard's eyes observe the scene,
The scene he's seen before,
The coming of the in-between,
The timing ever sure...
Night watchman, waiting, instincts taut,
Aware of everything,
Avoiding dangers as he ought,
That's how he's stayed the king...
Denis Martindale, copyright, September 2012.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Night Watchman II'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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Coals glowing orange red
Coals glowing orange red in the half drum
blazing through the holes in the sides of it
and a guard warms his hands
where he stands watching, with eyes alert
one hand touching the baton
as if testing if it is still there
and his shadow is gigantic
on the white building behind him
and above him, in the night
God’s coals are aflame
burning through the holes in the sky.
poem by Gert Strydom
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When the Watchman Saw the Light
Winter, summer, the watchman sat there looking out
from the roof of Atreus' palace.
Now he has good news to report. He's seen the fire light up
in the distance and he's happy; besides, the drudgery's over now:
it's hard to sit there night and day in heat and cold,
waiting for a fire to show
on the peak of Arachnaion.
Now the longed-for signal has appeared. Yet when happiness comes
it brings less joy than one expected.
But at least we've gained this much: we've rid ourselves
of hope and expectation. Many things will happen
to the house of Atreus: no need to be wise
to guess this now the watchman has seen the light.
So let's not exaggerate.
The light is good; and those coming are good,
their words and actions also good.
And let's hope all goes well.
But Argos can do without the house of Atreus.
Ancient houses are not eternal.
Of course many people will have much to say.
We should listen. But we won't be deceived
by words such as Indispensable, Unique, and Great.
Someone else indispensable and unique and great
can always be found at a moment's notice.
poem by Constantine P. Cavafy
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It is hard for an ex-king to become a night watchman.
When I Long During The Dark Night
When I long during the dark night,
with the stars shining bright above me
it's without the earth's viciousness,
it's as if Your love hangs in those lights
and there is no fear, no pain,
only the sparks of Your fire that burns,
it's as if all my problems disappear suddenly
under the peaceful care of Your fatherly hand.
poem by Gert Strydom
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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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It's one of the tragic ironies of the theatre that only one man in it can count on steady work - the night watchman.
quote by Tallulah Bankhead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Until Sunrise
“A Soldier Tales”
I stand upon this field a watchman
over my brothers who now lay at rest.
And until sunrise here I’ll stand.
Sleep my dear brothers;
Dream pleasantly with
no fear. For I will stand watch
over you all like an angel sent
from heaven. Until sunrise.
Now as the night wind whistles
I hear each of your voices in the
breeze, Each of you my dear
brothers thanking me; for watching
over you all until the sunrise.
But my dear brothers’ rest, for you need
not thank me. In fact I should be thanking you
for you are asleep now, so that I and many
others can be awake. So rest your heads in
your graves knowing that you all did not die in
vane, and until God calls me to my final resting
place. I’ll be your watchman my brothers.
Until Sunrise.
Incantation
A white well
In a black cave;
A bright shell
In a dark wave.
A white rose
Black brambles hood;
Smooth bright snows
In a dark wood.
A flung white glove
In a dark fight;
A white dove
On a wild black night.
A white door
In a dark lane;
A bright core
To bitter black pain.
A white hand
Waved from dark walls;
In a burnt black land
Bright waterfalls.
A bright spark
Where black ashes are;
In the smothering dark
One white star.
poem by Elinor Morton Wylie
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Jewels of the night
jewels of the night
you have to shine bright
to cut across the razor the dark
this night.
The pendent earrings you have
Shine in the growing dark:
The flames are leaping
And shadows flickering
This night.
And you
And you
Sweet jewel of the night
Sweet dark jewel
Whenever you smile
Your teeth shine in the night
So bright
So bright.
poem by Emmanuel George Cefai
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Walk In The Night 2
Walk in the night
Walk in the night of peace
Walk in the serene night
And prove the theories of
The pseudo scientists wrong
Walk in the with God on your side
Walk in the night
And I swear I will be your devout
Disciple and you will be the guru
Of inter racial harmony and with you
We shall rock the bastions of
Racial supremacy
To their flimsy foundations
Walk in the night and
The dreams of your clean
Mind shall seep into
Your soul and you
Will be saved by the Lord
Take my hand
And walk with confidence
In the black star filled night
Walk into the heart of
The black night of
My black lover's night
Walk in the trouble free night
You might have heard some stories
It is the people with ultra
Motives who paint
The night black
And they blacken the good
Name of the night
And the stereotypes about
The night become entrenched
In our minds and that's
Where racism takes root
Walk in the night of the home
Of the array of the black stars
Walk in the night under
The prevailing darkness of the night
Clearly let your thoughts flow
In the deep dark forest of the night
Walk with me in the night and you
Will see that I mean you no harm
Allow my child and your child to play
Together in the night and let them
Learn to trust each other
Walk in the night with my friend's
Friend and rid your minds of the
Stereotypes of racial hatred
That you have accumulated through
The passage of time
Walk in the night hand in hand
With me and you shall not try
To see me so much in your image
And I will not let my unfounded
Fear of the pigmentation on your
Skin ruin the love and the mutual
Trust that exists between us
Walk with me in this marvelous night
And be my friend or better still
Be my lover to complete
The cycle of racial harmony
Walk in the night and see
With your uncluttered mind
The ways of the world without
The confusing things of
The day blocking your clear
Appreciation of those who
Follow a religion
That's different from your
And their racial orientation
That cannot be changed by neither
You or myself
poem by Ngaka Motaung
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Walk this Night
Dark clouds will move
Light rays will come
Dark night will end
Bright day will start
But walk this night
Walk seeing its stars
Seeing its bright light
Seeing its white shine
It’s the beauty of night
So seen only in night
Walk seeing its moon
Seeing its moon light
Seeing its bright shine
It’s also beauty of night
So shines only in night
So walk this night
Walk seeing its light
And awake in light
Walk seeing its beauty
And awake in beauty
So walk this night
To wake in shine
If not the next day
It will be other day
For now walk this night
So move, said my heart
poem by Kranthi Pothineni
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Flickering Candles
I'm just a flickering candle
In the night.
Vunerable,
Yet staying alight,
With the hope of love.
I will kiss your breast
With the promise of romance.
And fill your body
With caress
Of that vibrant dance.
In the moonlight,
then we will walk
Hand in hand
Into memories,
Lit by the sunlight
Of an endless sky.
Kissed by the moon
That is ours alone.
Two flickering candles
In the night.
Now
Shooting stars
Burning bright
To Heaven.
poem by Kevin East
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