[Month of] February
The winter moon has such a quiet car
That all the winter nights are dumb with rest.
She drives the gradual dark with drooping crest,
And dreams go wandering from her drowsy star.
Because the nights are silent, do not wake:
But there shall tremble through the general earth,
And over you, a quickening and a birth.
The sun is near the hill-tops for your sake.
The latest born of all the days shall creep
To kiss the tender eyelids of the year;
And you shall wake, grown young with perfect sleep,
And smile at the new world, and make it dear
With living murmurs more than dreams are deep.
Silence is dead, my Dawn; the morning's here.
poem by Hilaire Belloc
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To A Tulip-Bulb
SLEEP first,
And let the storm and winter do their worst;
Let all the garden lie
Bare to the angry sky,
The shed leaves shiver and die
Above your bed;
Let the white coverlet
Of sunlit snow be set
Over your sleeping head,
While in the earth you sleep
Where dreams are dear and deep,
And heed nor wind nor snow,
Nor how the dark moons go.
In this sad upper world where Winter's hand
Has bound with chains of ice the weary land.
Then wake
To see the whole world lovely for Spring's sake;
The garden fresh and fair
With green things everywhere,
And winter's want and care
Banished and fled;
Primrose and violet
In every border set,
With rain and sunshine fed.
Then bless the fairy song
That cradled you so long,
And bless the fairy kiss
That wakened you to this--
A world where Winter's dead and Spring doth reign
And lovers whisper in the budding lane.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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In That Dark Silent Hour
In that dark silent hour
When the wind wants power,
And in the black height
The sky wants light,
Stirless and black
In utter lack,
And not a sound
Escapes from that untroubled round:--
To wake then
In the dark, and ache then
Until the dark is gone--
Lonely, yet not alone;
Hearing another's breath
All the quiet beneath,
Knowing one sleeps near
That day held dear
And dreams held dear; but now
In this sharp moment--how
Share the moment's sweetness,
Forgo its completeness,
Nor be alone
Now the dark is grown
Spiritual and deep
More than in dreams and sleep?
O, it is pain, 'tis need
That so will plead
For a little loneliness.
If it be pain to miss
Loved touch, look and lip,
Companionship
Yet is verier pain
Then, then
In that dark silent hour
When the wind wants power,
And you, near or far, sleep,
And your released thoughts toward me creep
While I, imprisoned, awake,
Ache--ache
To be for one
Long, little moment with myself alone.
poem by John Freeman
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Autopilot
I can sleep, but I won't rest
I'll try to rest, but I'll only sleep
My dreams were once my escape
My nights held my happy days
Awake, I was depresed
Alseep, I had energy
I'd cry myself to sleep
Then I'd cry no more
Spreading my wings
I'd laugh under night's sun
Flying around the world
I'd make a hundred friends
Throwing fire and ice
I'd defeat all my enemies
Then I would wake up
And happiness fled
Walking through autopilot
In a world that wasn't real
Looking but never seeing
I'd cry under day's moon
Existing but never living
I'd avoid everyone
Closing my eyes
I'd hide from any enemies
I once rested
In the chaos of my dreams
The loud sleeping happiness
Was better than the quiet waking sadness
But things have changed
In a moment, a lifetime
Awake, I am content
Asleep, I am upset
If I sleep, I dream
When I dream, I fear
Running in terror
Crying in death
I see faces unkown
And know pain unfelt
I once looked for sleep to find rest
Now I avoid sleep so not to lose rest
My heaven became my hell
My hallucination became my shelter
I do not sleep, I do not rest
Tired, but I am happy
A new kind of autopilot
Which existance is worse?
Awake, I fear sleep coming
Asleep, I cannot wake
Never resting, only existing
Life on autopilot
poem by Juvela Obi
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Three Short Poems
Three short poems
An Echo of a Song.
As vapour trail of past dreams
slowly evaporates in cold air
of reality, new dreams are born
and cherished, till they too are
given leave to perish.
Winter Forest.
Days of twilight, winter cold and starlit.
Witches dance on coruscated snow, in
the dell, as silent trees bear witness to
nature’s cruel beauty.
The copy
Droplets of star’s tears on a green
ephemeral sky, moon is oxidized;
nights are ghostlier than the print
of the Chinese lady, on a dull wall,
in the lobby of a run- down hotel.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Rest Is Leisure
Rest and leisure accompanies the days
As well as the nights in some maze.
Why do sleepers find it always
To keep on repeating their rest in days?
Due is the unconsciousness on a sleeping bed,
Mighty dreams occur for the time ahead.
Then wake up to the musical morning,
Make this verse I have written your only warning.
Pity is the only way you speak of others,
When suddenly you are in sleep, the blanket smothers.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Dawn
O tender first cold flush of rose,
O budded dawn, wake dreamily ;
Your dim lips as your lids unclose
Murmur your own sad threnody.
0 as the soft and frail lights break
Upon your eyelids, and your eyes
Wider and wider grow and wake,
The old pale glory dies.
And then, as sleep lies down to sleep
And all her dreams lie somewhere dead,
The iron shepherd leads his sheep
To pastures parched whose green is shed.
Still, 0 frail dawn, still in your hair
And your cold eyes and sad sweet lips,
The ghosts of all the dreams are them,
To fade like passing ships.
poem by Isaac Rosenberg
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At The Last.
The sky grows white with the moon,
And the sea yearns up to the night
As the soul to an unknown height,
Drawn thence by a starry rune.
Only a lost wind strays,
Like the breath of Passion blown
In the vault of the night unknown;
And the heart in me sobs and says:
'After a while we, too,
Shall rest as the stars above,
When we have no more to do
With the dream of life and love.'
O Time! thy feet that run
Over the hills and waves,
Over the cradles and graves,
From the first to the final sun!
Some day thou too shalt cease —
Some way there'll come to thee
Death's white tranquility,
The boon of an awful peace —
When the latest grief shall flow
With the surge that drifts away,
And the Night shall no more go
In her endless chase of Day.
Then shall the worn heart rest,
Then shall the sad Sea yearn
No more for the Moon's return,
Like a bird on its frozen nest
Dead, with her young ones dead
Under her breast on the bough,
Where nothing can wake them now —
Not the Dawn with its golden tread:
Where Death has been good to all,
Good to the mother and young,
And the dreams are beyond recall,
And the songs have all been sung.
So, at the last, to sleep!
So, at the last, to be
Still as the dead still sea!
Never to wake and weep,
Never to know Love's pain,
Never to yearn on for
What is gone for evermore;
To be as we were again
Ere we came o'er the bourne of birth,
Ere we knew of the fading flowers,
Of love and of life on Earth
And the hearts that were not ours!
poem by Robert Crawford
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Day dawn
All yesterday the thought of you was resting in my soul,
And when sleep wandered o'er the world that very thought she stole
To fill my dreams with splendour such as stars could not eclipse,
And in the morn I wakened with your name upon my lips.
Awakened, my beloved, to the morning of your eyes,
Your splendid eyes, so full of clouds, wherein a shadow tries
To overcome the flame that melts into the world of grey,
As coming suns dissolve the dark that veils the edge of day.
Cool drifts the air at dawn of day, cool lies the sleeping dew,
But all my heart is burning, for it woke from dreams of you;
And O! these longing eyes of mine look out and only see
A dying night, a waking day, and calm on all but me.
So gently creeps the morning through the heavy air,
The dawn grey-garbed and velvet-shod is wandering everywhere
To wake the slumber-laden hours that leave their dreamless rest,
With outspread, laggard wings to court the pillows of the west.
Up from the earth a moisture steals with odours fresh and soft,
A smell of moss and grasses warm with dew, and far aloft
The stars are growing colourless, while drooping in the west,
A late, wan moon is paling in a sky of amethyst.
The passing of the shadows, as they waft their pinions near,
Has stirred a tender wind within the night-hushed atmosphere,
That in its homeless wanderings sobs in an undertone
An echo to my heart that sobbing calls for you alone.
The night is gone, beloved, and another day set free,
Another day of hunger for the one I may not see.
What care I for the perfect dawn? the blue and empty skies?
The night is always mine without the morning of your eyes.
poem by Emily Pauline Johnson
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Tanya
Cold and dreary, dark and alone
Wind wailing thru the icy night
Dragging on and on
So reluctant to leave
Mad and angry to be forced to go
One last storm, one last night
Winter steals her away
Winter likes to go alone
Goodbye winter
Now all seems calm
But it's just the silence of the ones
Left struggling in your wake
Trying to put to rest
Winter
And carry her memory through spring
Goodbye
Winter
Your price was too high.
Through Sleepy-Land
Where do you go when you go to sleep,
Little Boy! Little Boy! where?
'Way--'way in where's Little Bo-Peep,
And Little Boy Blue, and the Cows and Sheep
A-wandering 'way in there;--in there--
A-wandering 'way in there!
And what do you see when lost in dreams,
Little Boy, 'way in there?
Firefly-glimmers and glowworm-gleams,
And silvery, low, slow-sliding streams,
And mermaids, smiling out--'way in where
They're a-hiding--'way in there!
Where do you go when the Fairies call,
Little Boy! Little Boy! where?
Wade through the clews of the grasses tall,
Hearing the weir and the waterfall
And the Wee Folk--'way in there--in there--
And the Kelpies--'way in there!
And what do you do when you wake at dawn,
Little Boy! Little Boy! what?
Hug my Mommy and kiss her on
Her smiling eyelids, sweet and wan,
And tell her everything I've forgot
About, a-wandering 'way in there--
Through the blind-world 'way in there!
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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Young, Dumb and Beautiful
Young, dumb and beautiful
She is everything I need
Young, dumb and beautiful
She means the world to me
Young, dumb and beautiful
A flower for the world to see
Young, dumb and beautiful
So glad she loves me
I used to stare into her eye's in awe
The passion we shared made my heart fall
I hope she knows she means the world to me
Never thought someone so beautiful would ever love me
So many countless nights I yearned for true love
Prayed for God to send me an angel from above
Now I know that some prayers come true
Because every morning when I wake its next to you
Young, dumb and beautiful
Thank you for being mine
Young, dumb and beautiful
A love to grow with time
As I hold your hand down this bright road.
Gonna tell you something that Ive never told.
Want you to know I love you so.
Let us share our hearts forever more.
Young, dumb and beautiful
Blow a kiss into the breeze
Young, dumb and beautiful
She's brought me to my knee's
poem by Lance Carthen
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Bereft
FOR nine drear nights my darling has been dead;
And ah, dear God! I cannot dream of her!
Now I shall see her always lying white—
A frozen flower beneath a snow of flowers,
Drowned in a sea of fragrance. I shall hear
In every silence of the coming years
Only the muffled horror from the room
Where I had left my little child asleep—
And found a nameless thing shut in and sealed…
And I shall never feel her breath that kissed
Me closer than her lips did; for the thick,
Dead perfume of slow-drooping flowers has drawn
A veil across my memory.…She is dead;
For nine drear nights I have not dreamed of her.
When, all a tangle of wee clambering limbs,
And little gusts of laughter and of tears,
Sun-flecked and shadow-stricken every hour,
She played about me, I could lie all night
And dream of her. She came in wondrous ways,
Hiding behind the dark to startle me;
Then leaping down the vistas of the night,
And yielding all her wistful soul to me
With kisses tenderer and words more sweet
Than that mad, random vehemence of love
She lavished on me through her laughing day.
And now she has been dead nine dreary nights,
And ah, dear God! I cannot dream of her!
Her idle hoop is hung against the wall,
And in the dusk her cherished garments seem
As if still warmed with all her eager life.
And here the childish story that she wrote
Herself, and never finished;—how one day
With puzzled pucker of her brow she stopped
Mid-sentence! as if God had gravely held
A finger up to hush her, and she knew
She was to keep His secrets;—soon, so soon,
Perhaps He whispered low, she would know all.
And now she has been dead nine long sad nights;
And ah, dear God! I cannot dream of her!
So I shall see her always lying white—
A frozen flower beneath a snow of flowers,
Drowned in a sea of fragrance. Now it seems
As if the memories I hold of her
Have shrivelled with the lilies that she loved
And lay with on her little narrow bed.
And now she will not murmur through my dreams
Those faint, strange words that mean so much in dreams,
And wither with the morn. I lie awake
And whisper to my hopes, “To-night I'll hear
Her petulant hands knock at my dreams' shut gate;
And oh, the gladness when I let her in!
Hush! what a patter of impatient feet
Down the long staircase of the stars!” And then
I sleep, and with an endless weariness
I grope among the spaces of the dark
For rhythm of her unresting feet, or touch
Of her caressing fingers, or the kiss
And whisper of her little self-willed curls;
But never lifts her laugh across the dark,
And never may I smooth her wilful curls,
And when I wake again I see her yet,
So pitifully thin and chill and straight,
Who used to be all curves—a living flame!
For nine drear nights my darling has been dead,
And till I die I cannot dream of her.
Perhaps she aches to come, shut in her grave—
So deep to dig to hide that tender form!
Dear God! she is too frail and weak to climb
The horror of those walls that hedge her in;
And when you call her to you let me be
Close by her side to lift her little feet
Up to the grass and sunshine of this world,
That lacking her is now so desolate.
So I have called and called…she does not come.
And yet I know the way into my heart
She has not quite forgotten…She does not come.
And now for nine drear nights she has been dead;
And ah, dear God! I cannot dream of her!
poem by Arthur Henry Adams
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One Of Those Nights
have you ever had
one of those days
when you wake up feelin' good
so good that you could tae the whole world on
one of those days
when you just know
no matter what
nothin' in the world could go wrong
well thats the way i feel this mornin'
but, baby i just gotta say
i always have one of those days
chorus:
after one of those nights
just like last night
oh my, what a beautiful thing
just you and me
those tangled sheets
were wrapped around us
baby, thanks to your love
it was one of those nights that leads
tright to one of those days that leads
right to one of those nights
have you ever had
one of those smiles
you just cant wipe away
the sweet anticipations too strong
one of those smiles you wear all day
;cause you can taste the kis of passion waitin' back home
well thats the one im wearing right now
but baby you always leave
one of those smiles on me
(repeat chorus)
when everythings perfect
when you want me
you touch me
you move me
(repeat chorus)
Right...
one of those nights that leads
to one of those days that leads
right to one of those nights
one of those nights
when everythings perfect
one of those nights
oh, one of those nights
i need another one of thoe nights baby
another one of those nights
song performed by by Trace Adkins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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One Of Those Nights
have you ever had
one of those days
when you wake up feelin' good
so good that you could tae the whole world on
one of those days
when you just know
no matter what
nothin' in the world could go wrong
well thats the way i feel this mornin'
but, baby i just gotta say
i always have one of those days
chorus:
after one of those nights
just like last night
oh my, what a beautiful thing
just you and me
those tangled sheets
were wrapped around us
baby, thanks to your love
it was one of those nights that leads
tright to one of those days that leads
right to one of those nights
have you ever had
one of those smiles
you just cant wipe away
the sweet anticipations too strong
one of those smiles you wear all day
;cause you can taste the kis of passion waitin' back home
well thats the one im wearing right now
but baby you always leave
one of those smiles on me
(repeat chorus)
when everythings perfect
when you want me
you touch me
you move me
(repeat chorus)
Right...
one of those nights that leads
to one of those days that leads
right to one of those nights
one of those nights
when everythings perfect
one of those nights
oh, one of those nights
i need another one of thoe nights baby
another one of those nights
song performed by by Trace Adkins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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New Year's Morning
Only a night from old to new!
Only a night, and so much wrought!
The Old Year's heart all weary grew,
But said: The New Year rest has brought."
The Old Year's hopes its heart laid down,
As in a grave; but trusting, said:
"The blossoms of the New Year's crown
Bloom from the ashes of the dead."
The Old Year's heart was full of greed;
With selfishness it longed and ached,
And cried: "I have not half I need.
My thirst is bitter and unslaked.
But to the New Year's generous hand
All gifts in plenty shall return;
True love it shall understand;
By all y failures it shall learn.
I have been reckless; it shall be
Quiet and calm and pure of life.
I was a slave; it shall go free,
And find sweet pace where I leave strife."
Only a night from old to new!
Never a night such changes brought.
The Old Year had its work to do;
No New Year miracles are wrought.
Always a night from old to new!
Night and the healing balm of sleep!
Each morn is New Year's morn come true,
Morn of a festival to keep.
All nights are sacred nights to make
Confession and resolve and prayer;
All days are sacred days to wake
New gladness in the sunny air.
Only a night from old to new;
Only a sleep from night to morn.
The new is but the old coem true;
Each sunrise sees a new year born.
poem by Helen Hunt Jackson
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Summer Kisses, Winter Tears
(words & music by wise - weisman - lloyd)
Summer kisses, winter tears
That was what she gave to me
Never thought that Id travel all alone
The trail of memories
Happy hours, lonely years
But I guess I cant complain
For I still recall the summer sun
Through all the winter rain
The fire of love, the fire of love
Can burn from afar
And nothing can light the dark of the night
Like a falling star
Summer kisses, winter tears
Like the stars they fade away
Leaving me to spend my lonely nights
With dreams of yesterday
The fire of love, the fire of love
Can burn from afar
And nothing can light the dark of the night
Like a falling star
Summer kisses, winter tears
Like the stars they fade away
Leaving me to spend my lonely nights
With dreams of yesterday
Leaving me to spend my lonely nights
With dreams of yesterday
Summer kisses, winter tears
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wake Up Dead
I sneak in my own house
Its four in the morning
I had too much to drink
Said I was out with the boys
I creep in my bedroom
I slip into bed,
I know if I wake her,
Ill wake up dead
Chorus:
I wonder, will she find out,
About the other, other lover.
Diana.
Wake up dead, you die
Wake up dead, and buried.
Wake up dead, you die
Wake up dead.
song performed by by Megadeth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dark Winter Blues
The darkness of winter in some parts of the world,
The blues that it brings to make them sick;
But who is able to challenge nature?
Dark winter blues,
From the middle of November to the end of January;
There our hopes lied so low in the North of the Arctic Circle.
Dark winter blues,
To endure the long dark nights of the Arctic winter;
With pastel shades of blue and violet wrapped in the snow.
Snow ballls,
Snow falls;
The dark winter does have negative effects on some people,
But the earth will keep on moving.
Wrapped in the cold of the snow,
With seasonal moods from the winter blues;
But this sadness of winter cannot be wiped away so easily.
There is no place to escape to with this claustrophobic,
But it is a matter of patience to push the days away;
And the orbit of the earth is all that makes the difference.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Haunt my dreams
I need another chance to be forgiven
I need another broken smile today
You froze every memory
You killed every breath
Come find me if you dare
Or leave me 'till the end
My nights are your mirror
My dreams are your voice
You face haunts my mind everytime I close my eyes
Kiss me like last night
Kiss me like I am your life
I will wake up as empty as i slept
Kiss me like last night
And convince that you're mine
I will wake up as lonely as I slept
Kiss me like last night
And I'll always kiss you back
I will wake up as broken as I slept...
poem by Amanda Larsen
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Autumn
Autumn: the year breathes dully towards its death,
beside its dying sacrificial fire;
the dim world's middle-age of vain desire
is strangely troubled, waiting for the breath
that speaks the winter's welcome malison
to fix it in the unremembering sleep:
the silent woods brood o'er an anxious deep,
and in the faded sorrow of the sun,
I see my dreams' dead colours, one by one,
forth-conjur'd from their smouldering palaces,
fade slowly with the sigh of the passing year.
They wander not nor wring their hands nor weep,
discrown'd belated dreams! but in the drear
and lingering world we sit among the trees
and bow our heads as they, with frozen mouth,
looking, in ashen reverie, towards the clear
sad splendour of the winter of the far south.
poem by Christopher John Brennan
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