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MIDNIGHT
She is the only one that moves now
Her soundless feet keen on the floor
Her silence seeps
In empty corners where all the sorrows sleep
She dances in the grace of afternoon petals falling off
Her cold breath hovers
In the roofs that vigil the death of the noisy crowd
A loner
A curious clone of a black ghost
She visits abandoned rooms
And cracks stories concealed by the muted angers
She drops a secret like a feather
Floating and I though awake
Throughout her wakings and walk-ins
Could not recall having caught one
In such slowness
What she really says amidst the silence
Or meant in all these dark passages
The mirror on the wall stares
And glares at me with anger
One must have just died
The killer fled
Hidden by her black capes
Another secret I supposed
And though I thought
I knew
She had already flown away
Like a black bird into the night
I want to make some rains for her
Or offer her a lace of my tears
But by then another morning has come
Gently touching me
With flowers
And dove on my palms.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Midnight
She is the only one that moves now
Her soundless feet keen on the floor
Her silence seeps
In empty corners where all the sorrows sleep
She dances in the grace of afternoon petals falling off
Her cold breath hovers
In the roofs that vigil the death of the noisy crowd
A loner
A curious clone of a black ghost
She visits abandoned rooms
And cracks stories concealed by the muted angers
She drops a secret like a feather
Floating and I though awake
Throughout her wakings and walk-ins
Could not recall having caught one
In such slowness
What she really says amidst the silence
Or meant in all these dark passages
The mirror on the wall stares
And glares at me with anger
One must have just died
The killer fled
Hidden by her black capes
Another secret I supposed
And though I thought
I knew
She had already flown away
Like a black bird into the night
I want to make some rains for her
Or offer her a lace of my tears
But by then another morning has come
Gently touching me
With flowers
And dove on my palms.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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That Midnight
She is the only one that moves now
Her soundless feet keen on the floor
Her silence seeps
In empty corners where all the sorrows sleep
She dances in the grace of afternoon petals falling off
Her cold breath hovers
In the roofs that vigil the death of the noisy crowd
A loner
A curious clone of a black ghost
She visits abandoned rooms
And cracks stories concealed by the muted angers
She drops a secret like a feather
Floating and I though awake
Throughout her wakings and walk-ins
Could not recall having caught one
In such slowness
What she really says amidst the silence
Or meant in all these dark passage
The mirror on the wall stares
And glares at me with anger
One must have just died
The killer fled
Hidden by her black capes
Another secret I supposed
And though I thought
I knew
She had already flown away
Like a black bird into the night
I want to make some rain for her
Or offer her a lace of my tears
But by then another morning has come
Gently touching me
With flowers
And dove on my palms.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In Silence
We talk in silence
We speak in exchanging breath
We argue in silence
We battle with our stare
We think in silence
We travel in our mind
We promise in silence
We create the secret better
We sing in silence
We smile in radiant melody
We enjoy in silence
We move with our body
We share in silence
We stay in each other arms
We love in silence
We grow the hope of warmth
We hate in silence
We shake in every fiber being
We pray in silence
We enchant the words in heart
We long in silence
We drown in loneliness
We break in silence
We flow soundless tears
We walk in silence
We tell our story in footprint
We listen in silence
We could hear numerous voices
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Gullible
The Black Bird portents the gloom
As he drives home the night...
Muted tones of grey accent his shadow
Conjuring up visions of panic and fright;
As a drought of a hundred years
Where the Earth wrinkles and cracks
The Raven bodes poorly for this day
As the muted grey tones now turn to black;
Fashionably correct or understated...
The less is more philosophy-
Sophistication is borderline-ice cold-dry
As the Raven has gotten the better of me;
Lacking-oh so lacking in any warmth...
Driven to a dark chill of regret and woe
The Black Bird has shown its true colours
Ironically, telling me, what i needed to know;
poem by Theodora Onken
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Long Black Veil
Ten years ago on a cold dark night
Someone was killed beneath the townhall light
There were few at the scene, but they all agreed
That the slayer who ran looked a lot like me
She walks these hills in a long black veil
She visits my grave when the night winds wail
Nobody knows, nobody sees, nobody knows but me
The judge said son, what is your aliby?
If you were somewhere else, then you wont have to die.
I said not a word, though it meant my life,
For Id been in the arms of my best friends wife.
Oh, she walks these hills in a long black veil.
She visits my grave when the night winds wail.
Nobody knows, nobody sees, nobody knows but me.
Oh, now the scaffold is high, eternity is near
She stood in the crowd and shed not a tear
And sometimes at night when the cold winds blow
In a long black veil she cries over my bones.
She walks these hills in a long black veil
She visits my grave when the night winds wail
Nobody knows, nobody sees, nobody knows but me.
Oh, she walks these hills in a long black veil
She visits my grave when the night winds wail
Nobody knows, nobody sees, nobody knows but me.
Nobody knows. nobody knows, but me.
Nobody knows but me.
song performed by by Dave Matthews Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Death, Anger, Silence.
For years I've been trying to evade it
And I thought I'd finally succseeded
But the blackness just keeps crawling in
deadly, angry, silent.
The road that I walk down is long
And I'm not really sure where it goes
But I keep walking, trying to hide
From the death, anger and silence
It starts out as a shadow
Nothing but a little blocked light
Except soon I'm surrounded; I can't get out
Of the death, anger and silence
As the shadow grows big, I become small
Blending in, hidden from one and all
To make myself seen I have to scream
And make death, anger and silence
I look around, I look around,
Trying to find simewhere safe
But soon I see, it becomes clear to me;
You can't stop the death
You can't hide from the anger
And you can't escape the silence
poem by Sasha Julia
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The BLACK ROSE
I've kissed the petal of the black rose as the morning dew blushed its black hue. I felt a passion beyond anything I knew, a flame, a fire, a burning desire for the black rose its petals to unfold, its beauty to behold. Your Love had me entangled upon your vine I dangled, Chained to the black rose petals I wrangled. Upon your bed in the early dew I found a colored rose petal, another heart that throbbed for you a flame that burned now an amber. Who too had thought you true and kissed the black rose petals blushing hue. Those barbed thorns upon your vine; so sharp; the lies, the deceit, the cheat; they cut, tear, bleed and don't prepare for the hurt they leave. Bold and daunting were you in your haunting. I wanted love but it was my soul you stole. In the ice cold blight of the winter night the black rose had froze. I cried, in the glistening icy snow; for the black rose had no heart to with stand the blight of that winter night. What it had was a cold heart with sharp thorns to enfold, the last cold kiss of death on the black rose shows I have no love to share or hold.
poem by Vanita Allgood
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Sonnet: An Empty House Remembers
The empty house around me ticks and creaks,
A moody end to evening's gentle rains,
A brooding quiet as the daylight wanes,
The secret language empty houses speak.
What stories might this house preserve entire
In rhythmic code composed of click and groan?
Does House recall a sadness with each moan?
Is laughter stored in every plank and wire?
And how might I, a fleeting visitor,
Acquire an ear for stories trapped in time,
And wrap a tale or two in words and rhyme?
How can I tap the House's secret lore?
In silence soft the house slips off to sleep.
Alone I sit, in darkness vast and deep.
poem by Russell Collier
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Woman In Black
I knew the moment
I walked through that door
I felt so close to a burning sensation
It got so warm
As I moved across the floor
My body aching with anticipation
I saw a dark silhouette, at the table
I tried to talk, but I was unable
She drew me in right under her spell
I was hypnotized by the sudden temptation
Of that woman in black, shes a mystery
Shes everything a woman should be
Woman in black, shes got a hold on me
Shes in control, she wont set me free
She is a woman
Shes not a girl anymore
The kind that stirs up a young mans imagination
Shes dressed to kill
And Im so ready to fall
Into her world full of strange fascination
I see that dark silhouette, at the table
I cant resist, my bodys not able
She draws me in, but she teaches me well
I never need any explanation
From that woman in black, shes a mystery
Shes everything a woman should be
I said, woman in black, got a hold on me
Shes in control, she wont set me free
Ooh, woman in black
Its too late now
I cant turn back
cause Im a fool for that woman
Woman in black
Ooh, ooh, woman in black
Ooh, that woman in black, shes a mystery
Shes everything a woman should be
That woman in black, shes got a hold on me
Shes in control, she wont set me free
Shes my mysterious mistress
But she leaves me so helpless
My woman in black
Shes a dark senorita
My woman in black
No sunday school teacher
My woman in black
Were keeping it a secret
We meet in the night
Were partners in silence
Strangers in daylight
song performed by by Foreigner
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Silent Dreams
Oh to have silence come into my sleep
Just for a few small hours.
But no the noisy words disrupt me
Like bees buzzing ‘round the flowers.
Small phrases get caught in my head
And become pictures that I see.
And I know they are only in my dreams
But they repeat continuously.
Take leave I say and allow me rest.
Please find another one
To keep awake with words and sound
Before the morning sun/
What lies beyond these countless nights?
Is there silence anywhere?
I've heard that beyond unconsciousness
That telepathy makes us aware.
And so am I in search of death you ask?
No that's not what I now seek.
Just a little silent sleep at night
Even if it's just for a week.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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The Death of Silence
Let's celebrate the day
The death of silence
When even the soundless creature
Leave an echo
When the quiet evening sky
Speaks more volume
Let's celebrate the day
The death of silence
When the darkness of night
Is calmed by the song of stars
When this cruel and frightening world
Is cheered by the joy of life
Let's celebrate the day
The death of silence
When the trees swaying their branches
Whispering the news from afar
When the stone awaken to tell the story
And no more secret remains hidden
Let's celebrate the day
The death of silence
When the wind fills the void
And noises the ears
When the sunshine touches the skin
And screams in eyes
Let's celebrate the day
The death of silence
When you could taste the heart
Inside the food you eat
When you could understand
The meaning the breath that taken
Let's celebrate the day
The death of silence
When smile is enough
To erase the rotten doubt
When love is abundant
To wash the bitter pain
Let's celebrate the day
The death of silence
When the soul finds its freedom
And not chained in the grief of body
When the call is passing
Through the memory and time
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Explorations: XXX
Silence,
A sanctuary amidst
Nature
Silence,
A retreat amidst
noisy crowd
Silence,
A haven to withdraw
For self
Silence,
For a communion with
Self and beyond!
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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The lady in the black lace
The lady in the black lace
~
draped in black lace she slept
her skin soft, pale to the eye
the room dimly lit bathed in silence
a beautiful serenity eclipsed
the portrait laid before the eye
her hair blonde, lay across her shoulder
stark contrast to the red of the chair
upon which she soundly slept
a story unfolded into thought
did she mourn or sleep in peace
would that pale skin be cold to the touch
through the thin black of the fabric
or warm blooded with desire
a passion of the artistry itself
what little light covered the room
cast shadows about her
framing this work of art
this beautiful woman in lace
slept as though at peace
poem by Matthew Holloway
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black as night, Elvyra
Watch out they'll say,
she'll come and get you,
black as night Elvyra,
will take your soul,
leaving you with nothing,
you'll never see another,
as dark and souless as her,
you wait and see,
i know what they'll say of me,
black as night Elvyra
They'll say she dances,
with the devil,
that she plays with fire,
that black as nite Elvyra,
you wait and see,
i know what they'll say of me,
Black as night Elvyra
look at her they'll say,
how dark with doom and gloom,
black as night elvyra,
look at her face,
pale as pale,
her black lips,
her black eyes too,
you wait and see,
i know what they'll say of me,
Black as night Elvyra
skinny and pale they'll say,
with raven black hair to opose,
Black as night Elvyra,
she knows your secrets,
whispers from your depths,
watch out for me,
you wait and see,
I'm Black as night Elvyra
poem by Jess Terry
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Last Night About The Black Bird
last night this black bird
arrived in your house
bringing you the news
from its master
your hands and feet
tremble
for this was something
very terrible
last night you went
down from your room
and reflected upon the
roots of that old
big tree on the
yard of your house
the black bird had
already flown away
like a stone
thrown in the middle
of a dark night
things always disappear
from you
you ponder
about yourself
the first hello
the happiest moment
the past passes
like a film strip
in your mind
things always tell you about
some unhappy endings
the news about a
certain blackout is inevitable
the blackbird, yes,
the blackbird, now you are pretty sure about it
it was a crow bringing you
about a sad news
the color of which is
as black as the color
of midnight.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Know Nothing About The Rain (With Apologies To T.S. Elliott,9/1/11)
Do you still love me, she asks
fragile moment, simple words
Fear and longing mingled like our breaths
hanging precariously in the air
People talk about the weather
To fill the savage spaces
Empty Silence, empty words
And we talk about the weather
What can I say
What do I know of the weather
Falling gently, scattered drops
What do I know of the rain
Do you still love me, she asks
In the interval between
What do I know of love
Falling gently, scattered drops
And in the rooms the women light as a feather
stand around talking about the weather
And I don't really know what to say
I know nothing about the rain
The Inquisition
I Woke at dead of night;
The room was still as death;
All in the dark I saw a sight
Which made me catch my breath.
Although she slumbered near,
The silence hung so deep
I leaned above her crib to hear
If it were death or sleep.
As low—all quick—I leant,
Two large eyes thrust me back;
Dark eyes—too wise—which gazed intent;
Blue eyes transformed to black.
Heavens! how those steadfast eyes
Their eerie vigil kept!
Was this some angel in disguise
Who searched us while we slept;
Who winnow'd every sin,
Who tracked each slip and fall,
One of God's spies—not Babykin,
Not Babykin at all?
Day came with golden air;
She caught the beams and smiled;
No masked inquisitor was there,
Only a babbling child!
poem by William Canton
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Raven's Feather
I stand by a tree,
the sky is grey,
and all I can see,
is a feather gone stray.
A feather as black as night,
floats gently through light,
through the fissures of life,
cutting through me like a scythe.
Looking down at me is a raven,
like the expanse of the heavens, no craven,
his eyes as deep as the abyss,
making me wonder if I even exist.
The feather drops like black water,
to the earth, turning it to fodder.
It haunts me, never leaving,
eternally eroding and deceiving.
poem by Soren Valentine
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The Lady Wore Black
On a lonely walk this morning
A light mist in the air
Dark clouds laughing at me in silence
Casting shadows through my hair
In the distance I saw a woman
Dressed in black with eyes of grey
She wore her pain like a shackled spirit
Eternal life was her debt to pay
The lady wore black
Its the sign of the prisoners lives
The lady wore black
See the years through the tears in her eyes
The lady wore black
Her mystic power calls to me
The lady wore black
Her love can set me free
The wind song whispered a warning
Telling me to beware
Of the quiet shadowed woman
And of the sadness I would share
We sat together for sometime together in silence
Never speaking in words
Of all her thoughts she spoke with her eyes
And I listened remembering all I heard
The lady wore black
Its the sign of the prisoners lives
The lady wore black
See the years through the tears in her eyes
The lady wore black
Her mystic power calls to me
The lady wore black
Her love can set me free
The words she spoke were of forgotten lives
And of all knowledge gained
Memries I had and didnt know why
With a smile she explained
I should have listened to the winds cold warning
And walked the other way
I touched her soul and now I bear her sentence
But for her love Ill gladly pay
The lady wore black
Its the sign of the prisoners lives
The lady wore black
See the years through the tears in her eyes
The lady wore black
Her mystic power calls to me
The lady wore black
Her love can set me free
song performed by by Queensryche
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Death of Dusk
The sun resigns,
bleeds out the vestiges –
remnants of the day.
Exsanguination edges into twilight:
red-brown hangs;
upwards darkens:
blue-brown,
blue-black,
death-black,
disquiet – furtive,
like ghoul-ridden fog.
A sombre moon assumes its role,
gushing silver-white lymph upon the muted scape –
a prequel of supernatural undertones
to chill the scene,
ice the spine,
kill the brain –
we have unnerved the very firmament.
But now a shadow closing down the globe:
dinosaurian cloud shrouds the moon glaze,
claims the late hour –
declared in a dying crow caw.
I, the hidden owl
– nemesis of claustrophobic minds –
awake! for mammal flesh –
fresh, jerking out its warmth in dance of death.
Rock-still I perch in sculptured oneness
with my crooked night-tree,
emanating nocturnal allure.
Together we scowl
together we play the dark
upon the land and sky
and mind
while you lie as dead in your box.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
dark dark dark dark night dark dark dark dark night
dark dark dark dark night
dark dark dark dark night dark dark
dark dark dark dark night dark dark dark dark night
dark dark dark dark night dark dark
dark dark dark dark night
dark dark dark dark night dark dark dark dark night
poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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