Twilight
Brushed by the shadows of the dead
On the grass where day expires
Columbine strips bare admires
her body in the pond instead
A charlatan of twilight formed
Boasts of the tricks to be performed
The sky without a stain unmarred
Is studded with the milk-white stars
From the boards pale Harlequin
First salutes the spectators
Sorcerers from Bohemia
Fairies sundry enchanters
Having unhooked a star
He proffers it with outstretched hand
While with his feet a hanging man
Sounds the cymbals bar by bar
The blind man rocks a pretty child
The doe with all her fauns slips by
The dwarf observes with saddened pose
How Harlequin magically grows
poem by Guillaume Apollinaire
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Harlequin
(brooker / reid)
Harlequin has lost his crown
Look they say a broken clown
Yesterday he ruled the world
Now hes crying to be heard
Yesterday he called the tune
Now hes howling at the moon
Harlequin has broken down
Harlequin, harlequin has lost his crown
Harlequin has broken loose
Slipped the knot and skipped the noose
Can those bloodhounds find his trail
Will they send him back to jail
Can those bloodhounds find his scent
Will they find out where he went
Harlequin cannot be found
Harlequin, harlequin has gone to ground
Break
Harlequin is back on top
Now his fame will never stop
See him shown from coast to coast
Hes the one they love the most
See them slap him on the back
How they love his every crack
Harlequin we knew youd do it
Harlequin, harlequin
Harlequin, harlequin
Harlequin, harlequin
Harlequin, harlequin
Harlequin, harlequin
song performed by by Hollies
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Columbine
Columbine my frail design
I see you see me standing on my own
Is it you that Im walking through
Should I retrace my point of view
Im left in clouded dreams of finding who
Not columbine
Just incase youre my disguise
I found yourself to my surprise
Im on the ground
And its harlequin who fix me up
Who catches you
Who wanishes me
From finding who
You are
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Folies de Femmes
In scarlet tunic rare a concubine
With subtle limbs, and breasts laid bare
For me to kiss. Soft eyes that sadly shine
A nubile maiden slave, intensely fair,
Strange frightened rose. A pagan priestess pale
Wearing a clinging robe of silvergreen.
In silken slashéd gold a houri frail
With veiléd face, mere child of seventeen.
But though my senses often are akin
To wretched trafficking, my soul is gold
And sails upon the winds, a harlequin
Unstained by sin and fearless as of old.
You are the lovely laughing columbine
Who fills my heart with dazzling amber wine.
poem by Harry Crosby
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Mirror
Wash your face before your faded make-up makes a mark
The mirror will watch over you
Pierrot never comes so pack your face and chase the dark
The mirrors hung up on you
Dont be last, your friends and your reflection
Its all so direction now
Poor harlequin, youre quite an exception
Fay troubadour, on a downer
Gay harlequin, doesnt believe in you
Doesnt believe its true, such a downer.
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Jan Kubelik
Your bow swept over a string, and a long low note quivered to the air.
(A mother of Bohemia sobs over a new child perfect learning to suck milk.)
Your bow ran fast over all the high strings fluttering and wild.
(All the girls in Bohemia are laughing on a Sunday afternoon in the hills with their lovers.)
poem by Carl Sandburg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Threepenny Pierrot
Threepenny pierrot - we love you
Threepenny pierrot - loves us too
Pockets of gladness, gay time eyes
Comical hero, threepenny pierrot
Happy little feet that dance all day
Lonely little heart with lots to say
Stepping footprints on your mind
Offering thoughts of columbine
Bang the drum and blow the bugle call
Pierrot takes the stage to play for all
For heres a life his fortune rules
Forsaken by his columbine
Threepenny pierrot - we love you
Threepenny pierrot - loves us too
Pockets of gladness, gay time eyes
Comical hero, threepenny pierrot
To tap his feet to greet dear harlequin
The hearts of folks so keenly hard to win
A patchwork frame of tears and wine
The nectar for cruel columbine
The part of three and leaves the stage forlorn
Puppets cold, their faces sad and drawn
Relive each trial of rise and fall
The love which lacks between us all
Threepenny pierrot - we love you
Threepenny pierrot - loves us too
Pockets of gladness, gay time eyes
Comical hero, threepenny pierrot
Threepenny pierrot - we love you
Threepenny pierrot - loves us too
Pockets of gladness, gay time eyes
Comical hero . . . . . . threepenny pierrot
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Harlequin
Came the night a mist dissolved the trees
And in the broken light colours fly, fading by.
Pale and cold as figures fill the glade
Grey is the web they spin, on and on, and on and on.
Through the flame still summer lingers on
Though her pictures soon shatter.
All, always the same.
But there appears in the shades of dawning,
Though your eyes are dim,
All of the pieces in the sky.
There was once a harvest in this land.
Reap from the turquoise sky, harlequin, harlequin,
Dancing round, three children fill the glade,
Theirs was the laughter in the winding stream, and in between.
Close your door, the picture fades again
From the flames in the firelight.
All, always the same,
But there appears in the shades of dawning,
Though your eyes are dim,
All of the pieces in the sky.
All, all is not lost,
And light appears in the shades of dawning
When your eyes can see
Order the pieces, put them back, put them back.
song performed by by Genesis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
A Baby Running Barefoot
When the bare feet of the baby beat across the grass
The little white feet nod like white flowers in the wind,
They poise and run like ripples lapping across the water;
And the sight of their white play among the grass
Is like a little robin’s song, winsome,
Or as two white butterflies settle in the cup of one flower
For a moment, then away with a flutter of wings.
I long for the baby to wander hither to me
Like a wind-shadow wandering over the water,
So that she can stand on my knee
With her little bare feet in my hands,
Cool like syringa buds,
Firm and silken like pink young peony flowers.
poem by David Herbert Lawrence
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Alley littered with Yesterdays news
hanging on the high brow off urbans nocturne,
Impotent bowels weigh down the boulevard,
there is too much shit with no place to go.
how it stinks
Boulevard
has its dirty mouth, no clean clothes, and a taste for liquor
Boulevard
Has no job, and a hangover that leaks when it storms,
Decency is rotting under milk crates with the rest of them.
The harlequin all meet on the corner cafe
ready to eat up your baby dolls,
oh what sad girls walk up and down the boulevard.
Spotlights show vermin through projector still screens,
chalk white bone painted caricatures on alley walls.
By day its worse,
dried up like a desert.
In the glass the flash bulbs
hold this city captive,
under lock and key
and the alleys
are littered with yesterdays news
poem by Jerome Moore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Emerald Lies
(fish / marillion)
To be the prince of possession in the gallery of contempt
Suffering your indiscrete discretions and you ask me to relent
As you accumulate flirtations with the calculated calmness of the whore
Of the whore
I am the harlequin - diamonded costume dripping shades of green
I am the harlequin - sense strangers violate my sanctuary
Prowl my dreams
My dreams, and theyre my dreams, theyre my dreams
Plundering your diaries, Ill steal your thoughts innocence
Ravaging your letters, unearth your plots innocence
What a surprise
Innocence, what a surprise
Innocence
To don the robes of torquemada, res
song performed by by Marillion
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Ode to a Twilight Sky
Ode to a Twilight Sky
By: Adam M. Snow
To bear witness to the beauty above,
to know it's everything one could love.
With the sights of the twinkling lights,
hiding their days, not their nights.
They dance around the sun and moon,
dances to a glorious Heaven's tune.
They will fly throughout the twilight sky,
we hurry to make a wish as they fly by.
We lie on the grass and connect the dots,
fantasy never ends for we know there's lots.
We could try and count them all one by one,
but there are some things that could never be done.
All stars can be seen at night yet one during the day
how glorious it is to see them riding the Milky Way.
To wish upon the first star we see at night,
and to dance under a glistening moonlight.
Repose, gracefully dreaming to a single star,
beyond this universe to a whole new land afar.
Dreaming of leaving this world and flying to the moon,
and coming home before all clocks strikes noon.
This twilight sky with the moon and star's exquisite,
yet we dream to the stars and moons to visit.
We stare at the stars wondering which is Heaven,
for want of the stars, this world wouldn't be liven.
To sing to a child, 'Twinkle, twinkle little star.'
yet we still wonder, 'What they truly are? '
From the sky, one by one they shine down,
onto us and lighting a darkened town.
Some longing to catch a star once fallen,
to put into a locket so it wouldn't be stolen.
We all try to look beyond them all,
yet some waits for the night to watch them fall.
poem by Adam M. Snow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Cow
Thank you, pretty cow, that made
Pleasant milk to soak my bread,
Every day and every night,
Warm, and fresh, and sweet, and white.
Do not chew the hemlock rank,
Growing on the weedy bank;
But the yellow cowslips eat;
They perhaps will make it sweet.
Where the purple violet grows,
Where the bubbling water flows,
Where the grass is fresh and fine,
Pretty cow, go there to dine.
poem by Ann Taylor
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Broken Rosalyn
Rosalyn is in misery, her heart is broken
writhing and wailing on her garden floor
watering the grasses with her pouring tears
crying mild and muttering wild - 'why me'
smacking and skelping the faultless grass
sniveling and cheering the harlequin-ed flowers
oh! this glory that shone before
is become the gloom of mourn
her flustered heart now cries tears of blood
her blissful life - woe betide
ever smiling face, wrung by hurting love
her days of leer are gone for good
and now she'll live ever in loving gloom
Rosalyn that glistered with the shining sun
is now married to the moonless night
her cry on the grass
it lingered a while
and there came a time
and up she sat
smacked the grass and groused aloud - 'why me'
and then she rose
and stamps her feet - on the watered blameless grass
oh! the poor broken lass
her wet face bowed
by frown's heavy boulder
and hair shelves from sore weary shoulder
as fragments of littered grass drops from pale-brown gown
she whimpered with hateful brusque
in sorry sniffles and glare of pain
saying - 'i'll never love again'
poem by Mbanaso Samuel
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Pretty Cow
Thank you, pretty cow, that made
Pleasant milk to soak my bread
Every day and every night,
Warm, and fresh, and sweet, and white.
Do not chew the hemlock rank,
Growing on the weedy bank;
But the yellow cowslips eat,
That will make it very sweet.
Where the purple violet grows,
Where the bubbling water flows,
Where the grass is fresh and fine,
Pretty cow, go there and dine.
poem by Jane Taylor
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Feud
I hear a cry from the Sansard cave,
O mother, will no one hearken?
A cry of the lost, will no one save?
A cry of the dead, though the oceans rave,
And the scream of a gull as he wheels o'er a grave,
While the shadows darken and darken.'
'Oh, hush thee, child, for the night is wet,
And the cloud-caves split asunder,
With lightning in a jagged fret,
Like the gleam of a salmon in the net,
When the rocks are rich in the red sunset,
And the stream rolls down in thunder.'
'Mother, O mother, a pain at my heart,
A pang like the pang of dying.'
'Oh, hush thee, child, for the wild birds dart
Up and down, and close and part,
Wheeling round where the black cliffs start,
And the foam at their feet is flying.'
'O mother, a strife like the black clouds'
And a peace that cometh after.'
'Hush, child, for peace is the end of life,
And the heart of a maiden finds peace as a wife,
But the sky and the cliffs and the ocean are rife
With the storm and thunder's laughter.'
'Come in, my sons, come in and rest,
For the shadows darken and darken,
And your sister is pale as the white swan's breast,
And her eyes are fixed and her lips are pressed
In the death of a name ye might have guessed,
Had ye twain been here to hearken.'
'Hush, mother, a corpse lies on the sand,
And the spray is round it driven,
It lies on its face, and one white hand
Points through the mist on the belt of strand
To where the cliffs of Sansard stand,
And the ocean's strength is riven.'
'Was it God, my sons, who laid him there?
Or the sea that left him sleeping?'
'Nay, mother, our dirks where his heart was bare,
As swift as the rain through the teeth of the air;
And the foam-fingers play in the Saxon's hair,
While the tides are round him creeping.'
'Oh, curses on you, hand and head,
Like the rains in this wild weather
The guilt of blood is swift and dread,
Your sister's face is cold and dead,
Ye may not part whom God would wed
And love hath knit together.'
poem by Frederick George Scott
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Who's Riding Old Harlequin Now?
They are mustering cattle on Brigalow Vale
Where the stock-horses whinny and stamp,
And where long Andy Ferguson, you may go bail,
Is yet boss on a cutting-out camp.
Half the duffers I met would not know a fat steer
From a blessed old Alderney cow.
Whilst they're mustering there I am wondering here -
Who is riding brown Harlequin now?
Are the pikers as wild and the scrubs just as dense
In the brigalow country as when
There was never a homestead and never a fence
Between Brigalow Vale and The Glen?
Do they yard the big micks 'neath the light of the moon?
Do the yard-wings re-echo the row
Of stockwhips and hoof-beats? And what sort of coon
Is there riding old Harlequin now?
There was buckjumping blood in the brown gelding's veins,
But, lean-headed, with iron-like pins,
Of Pyrrhus and Panic he'd plentiful strains,
All their virtues, and some of their sins.
'Twas the pity, some said, that so shapely a colt
Fate should with such temper endow;
He would kick and would strike, he would buck and would bolt -
Ah! who's riding brown Harlequin now?
A demon to handle! a devil to ride!
Small wonder the surcingle burst;
You'd have thought that he'd buck himself out of his hide
On the morning we saddled him first.
I can mind how he cow-kicked the spur on my boot,
And though that's long ago, still I vow
If they're wheeling a piker no new-chum galoot
Is a-riding old Harlequin now!
I remember the boss - how he chuckled and laughed
When they yarded the brown colt for me:
"He'll be steady enough when we finish the graft
And have cleaned up the scrubs of Glen Leigh!'
I am wondering today if the brown horse yet live,
For the fellow who broke him, I trow,
A long lease of soul-ease would willingly give
To be riding brown Harlequin now!
'Do you think you can hold him?' old Ferguson said -
He was mounted on Homet, the grey;
I think Harlequin heard him - he shook his lean head,
And he needed no holding that day.
Not a prick from a spur, nor a sting from a whip
As he raced among deadwood and bough
While I sat fairly quiet and just let him rip -
But who's riding old Harlequin now?
I could hear 'em a-crashing the gidgee in front
As the Bryan colt streaked to the lead
Whilst the boss and the niggers were out of the hunt.
For their horses lacked Harlequin's speed;
The pikers were yarded and skies growing dim
When old Fergie was fain to allow:
'The colt's track through the scrub was a knocker' to him -
But who's riding brown Harlequin now?
From starlight to starlight - all day in between
The foam-flakes might fly from his bit,
But whatever the pace of the day's work had been,
The brown gelding was eager and fit.
On the packhorse's back they are fixing a load
Where the path climbs the hill's gloomy brow;
They are mustering bullocks to send on the road,
But - who's riding old Harlequin now?
poem by Harry 'Breaker' Harbord Morant
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Black Boards
The dry black boards are cracked and warped
The dead red earth is bare
All life perspires
As it expires
Beneath the dead sun's glare
Things of green?
No longer seen
No new life splits it's cells
The smokestack's fumes
Pervading gloom
That covers landscapes fell
Still money seems the thing that's deemed
More valuable than all
As leaders strive
To preach the lies
Of all mankind's downfall
Saying
'Take the world and rape it for
The glory of the one.
The index
The dollar
The new god of the sun'.
Blind
Ive been searching for the answers
Ive been diving in the sea
Ive been haunted by the shadows
Of what we could have been
And its not that Im broken
And it isnt that I bleed
But when you pulled the stars from the heavens
It got so hard to see
And where would I put my hands now?
Its over now, we had our time
Its over now, we had our time
But you leave me, blind
Will you leave me, blind
Dove for the treasures
We went deep down for the pearls
And we could have cracked it open
Yeah, it could have been so good
And where would I put my hands now?
Its over now, we had our time
Its over now, we had our time
I feel this pain, I know Im alive
If love is wrong, then Im doing time
I feel myself, small like a child
My love has gone, how will I survive
Its everywhere, its in the trees
All those stars and I cant see
Im blind, Im blind, Im blind
And how will you think of us
A crease along your hand
Lying at these temple doors
Beautiful and sad
And where would I put my hands now?
Its over now, we had our time
Its over now , we had our time
But you leave me, blind
Will you leave me, blind
Its in the trees
All those stars and I cant see
Oh, you leave me, you leave
You leave me, blind, blind
Ooh, you leave me, you leave me
Its in the trees
You leave me, you leave me
Blind
song performed by by Heather Nova
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Clair de Lune
Powder and scent and silence. The young dwarf
Shoulders his lute. The moon is Levantine.
It settles its pearl in every glass of wine.
Harlequin is already at the wharf.
The gallant is masked. A pressure of his thumb
Communicates cutaneous interest.
On the smooth upward swelling of a breast
A small black heart is fixed with spirit gum.
The thieving moment is now. Deftly, Pierrot
Exits, bearing a tray of fruits and coins.
A monkey, chained by his tiny loins,
Is taken aboard. They let their moorings go.
Silence. Even the god shall soon be gone.
Shadows, in their cool, tidal enterprise,
Have eaten away his muscular stone thighs.
Moonlight edges across the empty lawn.
Taffeta whispers. Someone is staring through
The white ribs of the pergola. She stares
At a small garnet pulse that disappears
Steadily seaward. Ah, my dear, it is you.
But you are not alone. A gardener goes
Through the bone light about the dark estate.
He bows, and, cheerfully inebriate,
Admires the lunar ashes of a rose,
And sings to his imaginary loves.
Wait. You can hear him. The familiar notes
Drift toward the old moss-bottomed fishing boats:
“Happy the heart that thinks of no removes.”
This is your nightmare. Those cold hands are yours.
The pain in the drunken singing is your pain.
Morning will taste of bitterness again.
The heart turns to a stone, but it endures.
poem by Anthony Evan Hecht
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Beatrice
There's fairies at the bottom of the garden
Beatrice said
And led her brother
Carefully amid the dew
'They use the water lillies for their bed'
'And lie in long grass so quitely out of view'
Her brother said, with a sigh
He thought she was quite crazy.
Oh, the secrets she could share
To change his mind.
He laughed aloud and nicknamed Beatrice
'Miss Fantasie'
One solitary flower was all the treasure
He would find.
So, beatrice with a tear
Was on her own
Nobody else could hear
Their sweetest tone.
And as twilight, still would bring
Many a golden gossamer wing
The world would only miss her when she'd flown.
High above the trees on spectral morning
They did take her
To a land of fragrant azure scented mist.
A sunlight now revealed their heaven dawning
And felt as if by petal she was kissed.
Euphoria of music, watching every colour glisten
Harlequin embroidered
Dress she wore so fair.
In silent cloud she'd float and in awe to beauty listen
The Princess in a land of love mystere.
And as her brother awoke
So early on the morrow
His Mother sat in kitchen, head in hands
'My baby's gone'
She kept repeating ion her sorrow
A 'hit and run'
Her life was done
Who understands?
So. yes, we know
That in her garden are no fairies.
But we know her best embroidered dress is gone.
And Beatrice calls on silent wind
- How sweet their care is.
Now there's a spirit in the trees
Where her light shone.
poem by Kevin East
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!