Gentle The Stars And The Town Asleep
Gentle the stars and the town asleep.
No stranger at the gate. No door ajar.
The windows deep in their own affairs.
Flowers thicken the hot night air
with pheromones of sex and death
that follow you all the way down the street
like homeless kittens and lonely junkies.
Walking my solitude off alone,
the cold stone of the moon overhead,
the first night bird I've heard tonight
singing high in the leaves of an elm
strung like a guitar with power lines
and in my heart, a child of longing,
the half-finished spectre of a poem to you.
The streetlamps bud like day lilies
but nothing blooms in the tungsten light
though insects gather in impotent frenzies,
my poem to you makes love through its eyes
to the leaf and the star and the stone
seeking out images of you to adorn
this figment of desire in a shrine of thorns.
A woman dreams in a house far away.
The road grows darker and longer
out among the fields where the stars
wax brighter than the themes of a poet
igniting like fireflies down by the river
he sits by nursing his imagination
on the night shift of the inconceivable.
poem by Patrick White
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
These Words Turn Homeward
These words turn homeward
toward you, my dark wood,
because of all assignations of the night
you are West, you are dream and secret
you, deeper than jewels, sweeter
than the taste of stars
in the eyes of wounded black berries.
You, longing and lucidity,
singing in the last of the shadows
of the sacred trees for the unattainable
that summons me to you.
Endless, the farewell, endless
the dusk the nightbirds follow
after the swallows
have danced for the stars
in an aerial display of their own.
You, my star field, my wildflower,
whose skin is the skin of lunar waterlilies
and the tide at the tips of my fingers.
My new moon, my despair,
my solitude, my silence, my absence
which among these thousand lonely lakes
has looked upon you and seen
as I have seen in your incomprehensible eyes
how unfathomable they are to themselves
in your depths, your death,
the fullness of your abiding evanescence.
the quiet intimacies
that have just crept up on me
over these intervening years
that have done nothing
but linger in the moment
as if you would always be there
and could be found nowhere else
but now forever in this doorway
this broken window into my heart
to let go of
over and over and over again
like the rain, this stone, that leaf,
the wraith of your breath
hovering like a thin autumn mist
always at a distance over the harvested fields.
O diminished one, subtle one, free,
how is it you can inspire me still
though your ashes were given back to the stars
like a message for their eyes only
so many years ago that time itself
has upgraded all my starmaps
and made you alone, far one, bright one,
this lonely holy road that’s walking me home
as if my final destination, like yours, like you
were everywhere in whatever direction I turn
to ask the next star, where you’ve gone,
has it seen you, has it heard
was it too soon, was it too early
is it too late, too perilous, too absurd
for the morning to return you
like a singing bird to a green bough
to the dead branch that lost the moon
like its only blossom
on the rootless tree
that it took you from
when it took you from me?
poem by Patrick White
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Stars In The Night
Look, look at the stars
How brilliant they are
How can they be shining now?
When hope is so far
Look, look how they shine
These cruelest of stars
What fire inspires them,
What faith is it fires them?
Darkness grows,the world turns cold
And still, there glows the light
Heaven knows what hope they hold tonight
Look,look how they shine
These stars in the night
The darker the night becomes
The brighter their light becomes
Chill winds wail
The tempest blues
and clouds asail the sky
Through the veil,
The stars refuse to die
In this world of darkest night
Where hope is hurled away
There they are
And still, there's light
Oh,so far, but will they
There they lift our hearts
As we lift our eyes
Are we fools to see
The harmony that fills the sky
Look,there's the light
Stars In The Night
The Stars In The Night
song performed by by Barry Manilow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Your Eyes For Awhile
Your eyes for awhile
were the only eyes
I could see through
to catch a glimpse of god;
were windows into my own soul
that I could look through from the outside
without throwing the moon
through my reflection like a stone
in the hand of an angry boy.
And it was always as true
as the way your heart grew
that you could love strangers
easier than I do even now
after all these years of learning how
to talk to mirrors in their own language.
And you were not one woman
but all women forever
when I saw you once
bending down like the dusk
to touch the last of the flowers
as if you would never see them again.
As serene as the evening
there was no labour in your beauty
and I swear when I saw you that night
I felt as if I were the whole world watching
time put a finger to its lips
and pour its fountain
into the flow of your body
as if it were the sum of all passage.
And though I was your friend in all things
every evening since
the candle went out
in the lantern of a lost tomorrow
I have walked out into abandoned fields alone
and asked the saddest questions
of the most distant stars
knowing there is not enough light sometimes
even in the eyes of God
to be a companion of our sorrows.
And the questions grow longer
as the darkness deepens
the echo of my longing
in a well as dry as my skull
and closes its gates like scars.
And then those nights come
like a life or a day
or even just this moment
when I stop asking
why human suffering
is always indescribably true
and joyful as an irreproachable buffoon
sword-dancing alone with the moon
who writes me dangerous loveletters
as if she were the Lady of the Lake
receiving me back
like a funeral ship
into this mysterium of you,
I can almost believe that you know
even though the night mocks the crow
that pines for mercy
and turns its lightless face toward you
as if it could still feel
the warmth of the sun at midnight
in your eyes again
like the afterlife of light
playing with fireflies in the abyss
now that the summer constellations have gone down;
that somehow you must know
like a guitar
on the far side of a room
where someone is singing
as if they had their ear
to the womb
of your irrevocable absence
that binds me to you with every breath
I take for two
as if I had learned to live on death
to keep you alive in me
where you still flow through the seasons
on the nightstreams of my blood
like blossoms and leaves and stars
and the moon leaves no scars on the water;
must know. Or a demon’s a kinder face
to bestow on the darkness
than a black hole without eyes,
though it’s taken many, long, painful years
for the night to share the light with its jewels again
and as many schools as there are fools to fill them
that even just one
of those slightly compassionate smiles
you would send across the room
to cool the furnace of my heart
with the lightness of one snowflake,
one feather
gracing a change in the weather,
knew more about love
as a raindropp knows the sea
than all of us
who have been washed up
on this cold, lonely shore together
thinking we may have been saved
for something more
than this tidal longing
to brave the sea again
and even if doomed to drown
as I have learned
from this shale of pain
that has carbon-dated the eras
of my missing you
like a life that didn’t
flash before my eyes
as I went down for good with everything,
to thank-you, o, yes,
with nothing but love and light in my heart
and your face in the eye of my solitude
as I stand before the sea in gratitude
to thank-you
as you well knew one day I could
for the generosity of the wound
that has run like my life
down these eyes
these windows
this page
these empty mirrors
of autumn rain
that have wept for years without you
just to see you again
for one moment more
than the time I have left
to know that I never will.
poem by Patrick White
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Saddest Poem
I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
Write, for instance: "The night is full of stars,
and the stars, blue, shiver in the distance."
The night wind whirls in the sky and sings.
I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.
On nights like this, I held her in my arms.
I kissed her so many times under the infinite sky.
She loved me, sometimes I loved her.
How could I not have loved her large, still eyes?
I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
To think I don't have her. To feel that I've lost her.
To hear the immense night, more immense without her.
And the poem falls to the soul as dew to grass.
What does it matter that my love couldn't keep her.
The night is full of stars and she is not with me.
That's all. Far away, someone sings. Far away.
My soul is lost without her.
As if to bring her near, my eyes search for her.
My heart searches for her and she is not with me.
The same night that whitens the same trees.
We, we who were, we are the same no longer.
I no longer love her, true, but how much I loved her.
My voice searched the wind to touch her ear.
Someone else's. She will be someone else's. As she once
belonged to my kisses.
Her voice, her light body. Her infinite eyes.
I no longer love her, true, but perhaps I love her.
Love is so short and oblivion so long.
Because on nights like this I held her in my arms,
my soul is lost without her.
Although this may be the last pain she causes me,
and this may be the last poem I write for her.
poem by Pablo Neruda
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Will I Have A Poem Tonight?
WILL I HAVE A POEM TONIGHT?
Will I have a poem tonight?
Or will tiredness take me to bed
Without an answer?
Will I be able to find within myself
Some sounds of meaning
Some hint of beauty?
Something deeper than the darkness outside
As real as the longing within?
The poem which is written about the poem which is not
Is the poem which is written about the poem which is
And the poem which is
Is tonight the poem of the night
And the poem of the night tonight
Is the poem this poem is.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Practical Uses Of Poetry
Not to be practical, not
to mean, be, do,
no more than the wind
to insist upon itself, to
move like the wind,
like a disembodied intelligence
over the mindfields
practicing the twin disciplines
of light and rain,
scattering the mystic pollen
of intuitive seeds
that bloom like roseate fire
in the shadowless gardens of the abyss
arranging the cosmos like a wild bouquet
in the blood vase of the human heart.
To remind us
we're not fireflies or stars
stuck on a chromosome
of intellectual flypaper,
a buzzing that will stop,
but a passion of native iron
in the arms of alien oxygen,
urged into creative consummation
by carbon.
Free as water, free as God
the night she put the universe on
like make-up
to attend to the beginning of everything
with a cosmic efflorescence of fireworks,
to speak for the stones, the stars, the trees,
to say them into being,
to say us, to whisper us
into the enormity of her solitude,
the inconceivability of her darkness,
a secret she couldn't keep anymore.
Experience is a child playing,
not function, not a job, not a career.
What's practical about singing alone
because the mysterious nightbird
has come like a blossom of joy
to the bough of the tree in winter?
Or must dancing have a use,
music be enchained to the stone ear of utility?
Bleeding isn't very practical either
but how would you ever know
you were a rose scarred by your own thorns
if you didn't?
Sooner renounce the sweetness
of the star-flavoured summer night air
or teach the wind a compass and a map,
the sky to consult a control tower
than try to grind the stars of poetry
with a stone and an ox
into a function and a fee.
The wages of poetry are always a gift
that takes the recipient by surprise
with the beauty of its subtlety
and a coin as true as the moon.
Who asks to be paid
to dance alone with God?
And even the abyss
has provided you with a world
like a passport to anywhere you want to go.
Among the birds and the leaves
flowing along with this pilgrimage of stars
to shrines that are older than knowing,
if the sun or the moon
should open your voice like a flower
in the deep woods
to hear you singing in the light,
and you are urged into poetry
through a gate as open as the cosmos,
and you discover colours have echoes
and the notes of your song
are a palette of gardens,
and everything you paint with your picture-music
is the portrait of someone you're becoming
until you look like everyone
from the inside out,
every passion
the longing of a planet
to burn with life,
and the deepest watershed of your humanity
is itself
the fountain
where the goddess drinks from her own reflection,
and you understand
that the word in the morning
is the word at the end of the day,
and that the life that adorns your body within
is the wine of the worlds
in a cup of clay
encrusted with stars
and you are the delirium the dream seeks,
the lightning and lucidity of the dark sage
your roots consult like a storm,
would you then look upon the first crescent of the moon
and try to fix it to a plough,
would you look forever
into the wells of now
like the eyes of a lover
who combs out the tresses of the willow like the wind
as if he played the whole of the night
on the blue guitar of your heart,
would you renounce the music as impractical?
To walk through this world aware,
with a spear of moonlight through your heart
like a poet, to feel
everything a human can feel
and have the courage and the art
to sing
the joys and sorrows,
the gardens and intimate hells alike
with compassion and understanding,
even when you often don't understand
because the shadow of the world
eclipses your eyes,
or the windows are saturated with pain,
to be able to do that, to be that
is beyond assessing
because there is no intention to life
or the running of the river
or the unspooling of a poem
that conceives of its seeing as progress.
What the eye writes
on these pages of percipient sky
that bring the world to a focus in us
is not a reality in advance
of the dream that shadows it.
poem by Patrick White
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Just Another Lonely Night
Michael stokes & linda stokes
Intro:
Lonely night, just one lonely night
Without you
Lonely night, just one lonely night
Without you
I remember that could september
You packed your bags and you went away
You were my only love
But you were searching for
A better life in l.a.
Oh this loneliness Im feeling
Has got my body chilling
Im in need of your touch
Wont you rescue my desire
I long to feel your fire
Im in need of your love
Chorus:
Just another night
Just another lonely night
Without you, baby
Just another night
Just another lonely night
Without you, baby
Cloudy skies look like theyre here to stay
And the sun no longer lights up my day
I wish the phone would ring
Such joy your voice would bring
I miss the stars that shine my way
Is there someone else in your heart
Thrilling you with his charms
While Im lying here alone
We never seem to meet
Down this rocky road of love
Cant you see its you Im thinking of
Chorus
Bridge:
My days are cold
And my nights are so lonely
Im like a bird without a song
Like the saying goes
Theres too many fish in the sea
Deep down inside I knew
That you were meant for me
Chorus (repeat)
song performed by by Earth Wind And Fire
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Well Take The Night
Roy orbison/will jennings/j.d.souther
Baby its hard sometimes to wake and face this life everyday.
Sometimes its bad enough to stop and through the good all away.
Tonight lets put the world aside and let go toghether.
The night is one place we can hide in each others arms.
Dream on forever.
Come on baby,and well take the night.
While the stars are willing and the moon is right.
Dreams are shining in a magic light.
Come with me,oh well take the night.
You and me,oh well take the night.
Baby, well take the night.
Look up and let the night unfold.
Hold on to the feeling.
Reach out and let it touch your soul.
And give in to love,love is believing.
Come on baby,and well take the night.
While the stars are willing and the moon is right.
Dreams are shining in a magic light.
Come with me,oh well take the night.
You and me,oh well take the night.
If everystar should fall.
And tomorrow lose all meaning.
We would still have had it all.
Its locked away inside our hearts.
There for the dreaming.
Come on baby,and well tale the night.
While the stars are willing and the moon is bright.
Dreams are shining in the magic light.
Come with me,oh well take the night.
You and me, oh well take the night.
Come on baby, and well take the night.
While the stars are willing and the moon is bright.
Dream are shining in a magic light.
Come with me, oh well take the night.
You and me,yeah well take the night.
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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House Without Windows
Pockris/tobias
Im gonna move into
A house without windows
So I wont see you walking by, walking by
With your new love
There in the darkness of
My house without windows
I will never see the stars that shine
Shine on you, and your new love
Id rather wonder through this endless night
Than to face the light of another lonely day
Knowing that you wont be there
There to share, these two arms ever again
Ill take all my broken dreams
And Ill take my broken heart
And from now on you will find me there
Crying there, trying to forget
In my house without windows
In my house without windows
And without love.
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The bird sleeps in the bamboo grove
It is night.
The moon glows above the grove. There is another moon too in the pond.
The stars too glow, scattered all over the expansive sky.
It is a cool night.
The bird is asleep.
The bird rests on a bamboo branch with thick leaves.
And the night whispers to the bird:
'sleep gentle soul
that sings for delight;
sleep kind heart
that nature fashioned;
sleep while sister moon watches over you
sleep while the stars bless you
with starlight, starlight;
O sleep gentle soul
that sings for delight
sleep all night
in bamboo embrace'
poem by Raj Arumugam
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Christmas Eve
It's the night before Christmas
and the moon is shinnin' bright.
Stars are lightin' up the heavens
on this cold Montana night.
The rugged mountains tower high
capped white with snow.
Frost is settlin' heavy
on the peaceful valley below.
Smoke from woodstoves blanket
the little cowboy town.
The glow from oil lamps placed in windows
can be seen for miles around.
The road to the ranch house is frozen hard
and slick like slate.
The rusty old hinges let out a moan
as the wind blows the corral gate.
The horses are fed
and tonight they're not puttin' up a fuss.
For even they seem to know 'bout this gift
the creator has given us.
The little farmhouse is filled
with the smell of fresh baked bread.
And the family is gathered 'round the fire
as the Christmas story is read.
Tonight all the troubles from the year
'jist seem to be put away.
For now our thoughts are towards the Christ child
and the manger where he lay.
The conversation among the family is joyful
not a cross word is said.
And no one seems to be in a hurry
to be rushin' off to bed.
When the last of the hot cocoa is finished
and the family finally turns in,
we ask ourselves if there was a knock at our door
would there be room at the inn?
(-written by cowboy poet Tic Palmer of Stevensville, Montana, U.S.A.)
poem by Smoky Hoss
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267
This poem shall remember
The port of Dumaguete
The gentle waves of the boulevard
Where we once walked
Under the moon and stars
Where the wind was fresh and cool
Where time was once eternal
To your children and husband
And to my wife
And even to our friends
This poem is nothing
After all we never made it
But to me
This poem is more than significant
This is a love poem
To be recited again
In Dumaguete
The moon and stars
shining at night
And the waves of the sea
Bouncing on the boulevard
Still so excited
Like how I feel today as I write
This poem
I am not sure
Somehow somewhere
sometime
If it is still
With you
********************
and if by chance
you read this
do not blame
me or anybody
or yourself
do not even
blame the stars
they are just
taking their
own course
****************
this is nothing but just
another poem for you
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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This poem is just a poem
This poem shall remember
The port of Dumaguete
The gentle waves of the boulevard
Where we once walked
Under the moon and stars
Where the wind was fresh and cool
Where time was once eternal
To your children and husband
And to my wife
And even to our friends
This poem is nothing
After all we never made it
But to me
This poem is more than significant
This is a love poem
To be recited again
In Dumaguete
The moon and stars
shining at night
And the waves of the sea
Bouncing on the boulevard
Still so excited
Like how I feel today as I write
This poem
I am not sure
Somehow somewhere
sometime
If it is still
With you
********************
and if by chance
you read this
do not blame
me or anybody
or yourself
do not even
blame the stars
they are just
taking their
own course
****************
this is nothing but just
another poem, candice.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Missing You! !
I lay awake
Deep into the night,
Missing you.
My heart
Loud!
Wonder if audible
Even to you.
My thoughts
A jamboree of emotions,
Some acquaintances
Some strangers.
Wonder if ever felt by you.
And then
even without a knock
You enter..
Vivid against the haze of
My open eyed dreams.
How I love
The lines
at the corner of your eyes
deepening..everytime
the curve of your smile
reaches the eyes!
How I love
The mischief of the twinkle
Illuminating
All the stars of my night sky.
Igniting
The embers of my deepest desire.
As I lay awake
Deep into the night
Missing you…
poem by Anjali Kakati
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I Have Become My Own Season
I have become my own season
living through these renewable eras of you
that come and go
like the fragrances of passing stars
that sometimes stop by the gate
to talk about the garden blooming late.
Some flowers wait for the moon to open,
to throw their arms around space
as if they could encompass everything
in the brief embrace of their petals,
and their seeing is one eye under multiple eyelids
as they burn like jewels in the night
to keep it all shining and bright.
But I've worn out the elbows
of my insatiable longing
on the windowsills of a different insight.
Saddened by the distance, the time, the circumstances,
delinquent desires still hanging out their shingles
like green apples on a dead branch in winter,
withering like the inconsolable eyes of old men
who have died like sons
and now must die like fathers,
mine is the darker radiance
of the faint halo of light
around a black hole
that summons everything
down into it like the sea
sitting below its own salt
at a stranger's table.
You can't look into
the black mirrors in my house
with your eyes open
because they only reflect
what's on the back of your eyelids
where the only light is your own
and you are the road
and the lantern you go by
and everything you feel and think and imagine
is your own true face without skin
not the gate between outside and in.
How could I ever recognize you
in these dark spaces
if it weren't for the trees
and the stars and the moon
and the night stream that runs through me
like a lifeline on the palm of my hand
down from the mountains
in a rush of diamonds and gold
that pour out like the pent-up emotions
of a sword that's just been pulled from a stone?
And how hugely alone the night is
when you love someone as they are
and you realize without effort
that if you hold them a moment in their transience
you hold them like a star in a locket of water
that tastes like the past.
There are people
like treebound barrels of rain
and then there are people like me
who leak out of their lives
like radioactive water
that couldn't pool the pain
long enough to stop the meltdown
long enough to cool the brain,
long enough to let it kill me.
Now in the darkness
seeded with the dust of black dwarfs
trying to clench a fist of coal into diamonds
my auroras are weeping neon dew
like a cheap enlightenment
all over the watercolours of dawn.
And I'm wondering
what kind of an afterlife is this
that I might have foregone
if I were indifferent
to how my solitude deranges me
like a lost continent
wandering through its own mindscapes
like an extinguished star
that wants to make up
just for one luminous moment
a constellation of its own
that doesn't wait upon anyone's eyes
for the themes of its seeing.
And though the skies have changed
like the slides of childhood dreams
with every blink of an eyelid
whenever night approaches me
and asks to sit by my fire
and let the flames and the smoke
of our past lives
speak for the both of us
I look up to give my eyes
like two drops of water
back to their oceanic immensities
and it's always unattainably you
that is shining
like a woman in the window
of a secret house of the zodiac
far off the beaten path
that leads everywhere like a firefly.
And your stars speak to me
as if my flesh were light again
and my heart
that bumps its way through the dark
already a lamp beyond
the Lazarus of wax
that's buried in his own lucidities
like a candle I left for dead.
poem by Patrick White
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The Stars Are With The Voyager
The stars are with the voyager
Wherever he may sail;
The moon is constant to her time;
The sun will never fail;
But follow, follow round the world,
The green earth and the sea,
So love is with the lover's heart,
Wherever he may be.
Wherever he may be, the stars
Must daily lose their light;
The moon will veil her in the shade;
The sun will set at night.
The sun may set, but constant love
Will shine when he's away;
So that dull night is never night,
And day is brighter day.
poem by Thomas Hood
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River And Sea
Under the light of the silver moon
We two sat, when our hearts were young;
The night was warm with the breath of June,
And loud from the meadow the cricket sung,
And darker and deeper, oh, love, than the sea,
Were your dear eyes, as they beamed to me.
The moon hung clear, and the night was still:
The waters reflected the glittering skies;
The nightingale sang on the distant hill;
But sweeter than all was the light in your eyes -
Your dear, dark eyes, your eyes like the sea -
And up from the depths shone love for me.
My heart, like a river, was mad and wild -
And a river is not deep, like the sea;
But I said yout love was the love of a child,
Compared with the love that was felt by me;
A river leaps noisily, kissing the land,
But the sea is fathomless, deep and grand.
I vowed to love you, for ever and ever!
I called you cold, on that night in June,
But my fierce love, like a reckless river,
Dashed on, and away, and was spent too soon;
While yours - ah, yours was deep like the sea;
I cheated you, love, but you died for me!
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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A New Star
Orbison dees
The evening sun is falling that old blue moon is calling
My guardian angel in the sky came through
To help all my dreams come true theres a new star.
Theres a new star coming tonight, theres a new love burning
So bright for a new star of love is born between the earth and sky
For you and i.
Theres a new star
The moon was dull, the sky was cold and gray
There were no stars to light my lonely way
And then I traced the lovelight in your eyes
To a new star twinkling in the sky burning bright, day and night
Now Im alright, now were together, lovers forever
A new star, a new star to light our way
Theres a new star burning for us, theres a new world turning for us
Theres a new star sparkling in the sky.
Theres a new star shining somewhere and we know the reason why
Theres a new star way up there for a true love
A new star for our love will never die.
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Mumble....
how i wish to be just everything
a tree full of leaves where some stars hang out tonight
or just fireflies if there be no stars
that will suffice or if there are no fireflies at all
perhaps a candlelight
a lonely candle put upon one of its roots
or if there be none at all
no tree or leaf or ground
or worm
i still just wish that i be everything in that nothing
a space
an echo a dust a wind
i just want to dissipate in everything that comes my way
a memory of you in a minute
or just a crumpled paper
a dew that dries up in air
a mark on the leaf
a scratch of the stone
a left over moss
i just want to have an image of myself
something to think about
for the meantime that you are not here
i simply want to explode
scatter
till no one finds me here
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Heaven With Us
It's like the realm of solitude
with silence of the night
is to captivate us
In silhouette is the mood of sleep
into enthralling dreams
Plus within the fresh air and cold
and the night so bold
such a night to slumber
We put it aside and we want to
escape from the realm of solitude
The thousand fireflies leaped across
and ignited our desire with their fire,
with their daring play to our rendezvous
With parallel vibration of love blended
our body, soul and heart into one jubilation
And we see the stars beyond the clouds
a priceless treasure of heaven
poem by Ency Bearis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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