When dusk creeps through the windows
When dusk creeps through the windows
with the big old oak tree etched against the sky,
the eastern horizon gleams outside,
the morning star hangs is a beacon that bridges the night,
while the golden moon fades away
with the big old oak tree etched against the sky
the night is driven away, chased
by the sun rising burning
while the golden moon fades away,
the morning is fresh like an unfolding flower
while the birds, the insects, the animals are woken
by the sun rising burning
with blinding white light, stretching out its rays
and I am getting awake
while the birds, the insects, the animals are woken
and the day has already belted its gleaming chord.
When dusk creeps through the windows
and I am getting awake
the eastern horizon gleams outside.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Trees bend in the breeze
Trees bend in the breeze,
the dead branch creaks under the force
that is moving it,
the eyes of the owl zoom in
searching for a prey
the sun fades, gets dimmer and dimmer
while it drops over the horizon
as the darkness creeps, creeps slowly in
and the moon raises silver
white in a star filled night
where a dazzling show
like on a Christmas tree appears
and hangs bright
with little twinkling lights
and the owl hoots, giving to some
its death call, to others a caring presence
and sleep sneaks into bodies, eyes and minds
and on this Christmas day the world is at peace.
poem by Gert Strydom
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As Things Awake
The crimson hues of morning call,
its fingers touch some but not all.
The golden orb on the horizon wake
intensifies the morning skies.
We watch in wonder
at the beauty of a dawning day.
Soon the quiet of early morn
will be shattered as things awake.
Enjoy the moments of tranquillity
as from the eastern horizon
the morning does wake.
poem by David Harris
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I Begged God for My Life
I cursed the birds
Their droppings soiled my clothes
I cursed the animals
Their droppings soiled my feet
While walking on the beach
I cursed the insects
For eating flowers in my garden
I took a gun
Killed the birds and the animals
Sprayed deadly poison
On the the insects
I was feeling happy
As if I had conquered the world
I heard god’s voice
What should I do with you my son?
You soiled my world
By killing my
Birds, insects and animals
For your greed and lust
I begged god for my life
Promised him to
Treat man, animals alike
Preserve his world
With all my might
poem by Nirantar Dr.Rajendra Tela
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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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In Words Unspoken
In the silence of the morning,
before the world has woken
I sit and dream my dreams
in words unspoken.
I sit and ponder the faces of life
in the nightmares of reality,
the programmes that hold us spellbound
as they appear on our TV screens
while all the world screams out with fright.
I dream my dreams in private
as their images dance inside my head,
the beauty and the wonder
upon each life befalls.
The miracles that we witness
in each day of our lives
as we walk across the threshold
to greet each new passing day.
From the birth of a new born baby
to someone’s life that has been saved.
The miracle of Mother Nature
as she wakes every flower in the morn
to the butterfly that passes our window
on delicate translucent wings.
I dream my dreams in silence
in the peace that they endorse;
hoping all the time
the world will follow their course.
I dream my dreams in the morning
before anyone is awake
while the darkness of the night
still covers the sky
before the sun has awoken
and from behind, the eastern horizon
lifts up its sleepy head.
This is the time
in the silence of the morning,
before the world has woken
I sit and dream my dreams
in words unspoken.
31 May 2009
poem by David Harris
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Morning’s Glory
Dawn breaks the stranglehold
of a sleepy dusky night.
The sun peers above the eastern horizon
as morning begins to break into full glory.
Flowers open their petals wide
to allow the warmth inside;
birds leave their roosts
to wander the sky.
The morning’s glory soars
on delicate golden wings
as the early birds begin to sing.
Morning’s glory looks down on all
awakening with sleepy eyes,
preparing them to go
through a brand new day
that starts with the morning’s glory
and the sun shining bright.
9 December 2009
poem by David Harris
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Sunbeams
The warming rays
streaming on the freshness
of the morning
The slanting rays
trembling between
the green leaves
The guiding rays
sneaking from the arched
roofs of the trees
The shimmering rays
spreading on the curtain panels
of the windows
The scorching rays
flaring on the barren
dry fields
The crimson rays
touching the bare path
like beads of rubies
The outward light fades
while the inward light
gleams to enlighten us.
poem by Rizvana Parveen
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Abaude: Night into Morning
We lie under high arched windows
awake in the deep winter night
and gaze on the tallest trees
glazed in silver light.
They reach up to the radiant moon,
their fingers spread bare and plain,
raised in silent prayer
after December's cold, hard rain.
Your face is bathed in these holy rays,
and I fight sleep; I cannot turn away
from truth so deep as the moon beaming
through our wintering trees ardently streaming.
But I close my eyes for a moment, then see
dawn drawing azure from night's darkest seed,
and the trees' golden limbs rising on high
to praise morning's vaulting blue sky.
So I arise and turning to you I see
how night flows to dawn eternally
and to the resurgent world restores
the spring of our never-ending joy.
poem by Steven Federle
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Chirping Birds
the morning here
is always the sound of chirping birds
because the trees
have been their homes at night
when the sun rises
the birds fly away again
and when the sun fades
they come back
to their nests
and home
the night hums the song of silence
bird's eyes closing again
to the golden sheen
of the bright moon
the white owl flaps its wings
on a nocturnal adventure
in harmony with the bats
friends of the night
some shadows lurk in the night
in the pursuit of happiness
some souls are restless
on dreams unfulfilled
some wake up dwindling at dawn
opening the fridge for a glass of cold water
switches on the computer
and begin again
anew to another poem
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Never is she shut #never is she shut
You are my Sun.
You are now set.
You brought me dawn
Everyday at ten.
You sent me dusk
Everyday at five.
Weekend two days,
You left me in dark.
You shone on me for brief,
But heavily, brightly
And deeply with warmth.
That referred warmth
Spread all the night.
I felt the shine of my Sun,
Off the dusk, at full night.
My night is brightly lit.
Now my sun is set.
Where is my dawn?
Where is my dusk?
Where is the sunny day?
Where is my beauty?
Who will there be to lit
My night-full day?
And dreaded night?
You be a Moon, now on.
Waxing and waning,
Be always on horizon
So that there comes
Once a while a full-moon,
To imbue me with life.
My day-less night
Is lit with Moonlight.
You be my stars, farther.
You twinkle and twinkle
At me high from horizon!
With your news, beckon!
With your heart, command!
I am in the bath of starlight.
My night-full day is lit.
My sun, though, is set,
No dark is there at night.
She is there as Moon.
She is there as Stars.
Though she is set as Sun.
I’m now a nocturnal.
She can never be set
Out of my heart and soul.
11.06.99
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Heavenly night
In the milky night
the diamond moon glistens on
the silver lakes reflects
the power of twinkling stars! !
The smell of jasmine which
maketh the insects sit upon
the breezy wind peeps into my ear
to wakeup at the milky night alone
is wonderful and charm! !
The golden leaves falls from the tree
looks as going in the chilly air
as angels flies in the moon lit night! !
The melodies of trees chirping sounds of air
call me remembering the sound of salangai
worn by woman! !
The night birds sing the songs I am delighted
enjoyed standing in the chilly air beneath the moon lit night! !
Let the heavenly night wake me up
And I am delighted to stand under the moon lit night! ! !
(Salangai woman wear in their legs which gives beautiful sound
10/3/2009 1000 pm)
poem by Swagathnath Rajeswari
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An Unturned Page
Each morning we awake
to greet a brand new day.
Each night we go to bed
and the day just fades away.
Everyday in our lives
is like an unturned page
and we are merely puppets
on its enormous stage.
We are guided along paths,
shown the right way to go
as the unturned page get written on
from dawn t dusk
by someone’s guiding hand.
When they’ve finished writing,
we go to bed at night
and sleep until the morning light.
Then a new unturned page appears
waiting for us to travel on.
1 June 2008
poem by David Harris
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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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Very Deep In The Dark Moonlit Night
Very deep in the dark moonlit night
I still hear the sound of doves
where the whole night they coo, whisper and laugh;
I see the yellow moon glowing as a sickle
where it hangs high above the horizon,
there are thunderbolts lashing thundering,
in blinding flashes of blue-white light
with the doves scattering scared over the roof
when the storm walks nearer through the tree branches.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Disappearance
It is doubtless
Like the sun rises up
Tomorrow in the eastern sky
Though you left
Saying return to night
Not an absence journey
Has been placed and gone
Gazing yet desperately but with hopes
From that day to today
As well used to
In a night; perhaps in a midnight
You will knock at the door
Murmuring a stanza in a song
My soul in sick
Burning in fire with night mares
It is a rainless thunder in white night
Make me afraid
It is sure
You will arrive
But I don't ask or tell
Where have you been and happened
What is said to your smile?
I am in a doubt for one thing;
Last the day of full moon
Night was so dark and silence
Moon did not appear even a star
But I hope you will appear
My son the moon
poem by Udaya R. Tennakoon
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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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Funny How It Fades Away
Those days when our hearts were as big as the sun
Turn around with a smile for everyone
That feelings a memory
Funny how it fades away
You wont see those pale grays returning to blues
The colors will wash out as I shrink in my shoes
And I wont always live and breathe
Watch me as I fade away
We wake in the morning and work all day
We dress up in the evening with nothing to say
Just like a candle burning bright
Burning like forever then it fades away
Who on this planet would ever refuse
The chance of a lifetime to love and lose
When time is of no importance
Have you seen it slip away?
We wake in the morning and work all day
We dress up in the evening with nothing to say
Just like a candle burning bright
Burning like forever then it fades away
We wake in the morning and work all day
We dress up in the evening with nothing to say
Just like a candle burning bright
Burning like forever then it fades away
song performed by by Fastball
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I saw the sun rising slowly
I saw the sun rising slowly,
changing the hue of grey dawn
to pink, orange and orange-red
and the breath of the air outside
smelled with the odour of blooming flowers
and with the passing hours
the world came awake,
birds started to sing, flying from tree to tree
and this morning I knew
that it was the beginning of spring.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Trauma Of Time
Time Fades The Smile, Not The Pain.
Time Drains The Water Not The Damage From The Rain.
Time Fades The Tomorrow Not The Yesterday.
Time Fades The Cuts But The Scars Never Go Away.
Time Fades The Sweetness Not All The Things Sour.
Time Fades Those Few Precious Moments But Not The Crippling Hour.
Time Fades The Sun, Not It’s Brutal Remains.
Time Fades The Photographs Not There Stains.
Time Fades The Lessons Not All The Things That I’ve Learned.
Time Puts Out The Fire But Not The Days I Burned.
Time Fades The Colors Not The Glaring White.
Time Fades The Bruises Not The Darkness In The Night.
Time Fades The Happiness Not The Tears.
Time Fades The Triumphs Not The Fears.
Time Fades The Storm Not The Ocean.
Time Fades The Memories Not The Emotion.
Time Fades The Dreams Not The Nightmare.
Time Fades The Hand Not The Times You Weren’t There.
Time Fades The Beauty Not The Gloom.
Time Fades The Doors And Windows Not The Empty Room.
Time Fades The Love Not The Empty Lie.
Time Fades The Hello But Never The Goodbye.
poem by Bridgid Patrick
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The Inward Morning
Packed in my mind lie all the clothes
Which outward nature wears,
And in its fashion's hourly change
It all things else repairs.
In vain I look for change abroad,
And can no difference find,
Till some new ray of peace uncalled
Illumes my inmost mind.
What is it gilds the trees and clouds,
And paints the heavens so gay,
But yonder fast-abiding light
With its unchanging ray?
Lo, when the sun streams through the wood,
Upon a winter's morn,
Where'er his silent beams intrude,
The murky night is gone.
How could the patient pine have known
The morning breeze would come,
Or humble flowers anticipate
The insect's noonday hum--
Till the new light with morning cheer
From far streamed through the aisles,
And nimbly told the forest trees
For many stretching miles?
I've heard within my inmost soul
Such cheerful morning news,
In the horizon of my mind
Have seen such orient hues,
As in the twilight of the dawn,
When the first birds awake,
Are heard within some silent wood,
Where they the small twigs break,
Or in the eastern skies are seen,
Before the sun appears,
The harbingers of summer heats
Which from afar he bears.
poem by Henry David Thoreau
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