The Night Drippings
In that darkness
some colours brightened
some minds blackened
The night as ever
is dripping blood.
Where?
Somewhere or other
between the poles
How much?
At dawn you can
measure by gallons.
Why?
I’m as dumb
as the dead at the night.
poem by Sathya Narayana
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Related quotes
Darkness Of...
Darkness is not the darkness of night
it is the darkness of mind and soul.
darkness is not the darkness of night,
it is the darkness of discrimination between poor and rich.
darkness is not the darkness of night,
it is the darkness of dishonesty.
darkness is not the darkness of night,
it is the darkness of aggravate.
darkness is not the darkness of night,
it is darkness of corruption.
darkness is not the darkness of night,
it is the darkness of indiscipline.
darkness is not the darkness of night,
it is the darkness of animosity.
darkness is not the darkness of night,
it is the darkness of inveterate.
darkness is not the darkness of night,
it is the darkness of perjury.
darkness is not the darkness of night,
it is the darkness that we all brought up inside us,
so, light the lamp of light inside you...
poem by Suniya Garg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Blackened...
blackened steel...
blackened faces,
blackened hearts,
blackened roads...
blackened eyes,
blackened dreams,
blackened prayers,
blackened gods...
blackened memories,
blackened fingers,
blackened windows,
blackened rooms...
blackened thoughts,
blackened nails,
blackened shovels,
blackened tomb!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Twenty Gallons of Sleep
MEASURE me out from the fathomless tun
That somewhere or other you keep
In your vasty cellars, O wealthy one,
Twenty gallons of sleep.
Twenty gallons of balmy sleep,
Dreamless, and deep, and mild,
Of the excellent brand you used to keep
When I was a little child.
I’ve tasted of all your vaunted stock,
Your clarets and ports of Spain,
The liquid gold of your famous hock,
And your matchless dry champagne.
Of your rich muscats and your sherries fine,
I’ve drunk both well and deep;
Then measure me out, O merchant mine,
Twenty gallons of sleep.
Twenty gallons of slumber soft,
Of the innocent, baby kind,
When the angels flutter their wings aloft
And the pillow with down is lined.
I have drawn the corks, and drained the lees,
Of every vintage pressed;
If I’ve felt the sting of my honey bees,
I’ve taken it with the rest.
I have lived my life, and I’ll not repine;
As I sowed I was bound to reap;
Then measure me out, O merchant mine,
Twenty gallons of sleep.
poem by Agnes Louise Storrie
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On Purpose
I see the blood dripping down my arm.
Red liquid in a running line
I smell the blood dripping down my arm.
Irony and salty
I hear the blood dripping down my arm.
Making splashes as drops hit the floor
I taste the blood dripping down my arm.
Mineraly and smooth
I feel the blood dripping down my arm.
A tickle covering immense pain
Because I cut myself
On purpose
poem by Kylee Bartz
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Where do they go? for M'lady Denise
A sky layered in lavender,
old rose and streaks of gold that glow.
Against approaching indigo
as night accepts day’s surrender.
The sun descends into the sea.
His task complete it’s time to rest.
As night achieves a slow conquest.
The colours will fade gradually
Tomorrow morning with the dawn
The pastel colours will return,
The Sun will rise to take his turn.
As in the east new day's born.
Where do the pretty colours go?
when darkness reigns. I do not know.
Saturday,03 July 2010
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers.
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Dumb-Bells
DUMB-BELLS left, dumb-bells right,
Swing them hard, grip them tight!
Thirty fat men of the town
Must sweat their filthy paunches down.
Dripping sweat and pumping blood
They try to make themselves like God.
One and two, three and four,
Cleave the air and smite the floor!
Five and six, seven and eight,
Legs apart, shoulders straight!
Thirty fat men grunt and puff,
Thirty bellies plead, Enough!
Dumb-bells up, dumb-bells down,
Dumb-bells front, dumb-bells ground!
Thirty's God has just the girth
To pull the levers of the earth,
They made him sinewy and lean
And washed him glittering white and clean.
Dumb-bells in, dumb-bells out,
Count by fours and face about!
Put by dumb-bells for to-day,
Wash the stinking sweat away
And go out clean. But come again;
Worship's every night at ten.
poem by John Crowe Ransom
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Chasing Shadows
Chasing shadows, over my walls
With myself hardly sleeping
Dwarfs and giants, twenty feet tall
Fill the room with their creeping
Sounds of breathing sharpen my ears
Then they fade into nothing
Someones laughter out in the street
Fills the night with their loving
I feel the ice in my head
Running its hands through my bed
Not even dreaming I seem to be dead
Colours of yellow and colours of red
All Im asking some secret voice
Is to lead me to darkness
Im so tired, dawn never comes
I just hide in the shadows
song performed by by Deep Purple
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Common Grave
Last night beneath the foreign stars I stood
And saw the thoughts of those at home go by
To the great grave upon the hill of blood.
Upon the darkness they went visibly,
Each in the vesture of its own distress.
Among them there came One, frail as a sigh,
And like a creature of the wilderness
Dug with her bleeding hands. She neither cried
Nor wept; nor did she see the many stark
And dead that lay unburied at her side.
All night she toiled, and at that time of dawn,
When Day and Night do change their More and Less,
And Day is More, I saw the melting Dark
Stir to the last, and knew she laboured on.
poem by Sydney Thompson Dobell
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Rondel.
The mist is in the town to-night,
And all the streets are dumb and drear;
The passers-by as ghosts appear,
Or things whose souls have taken flight
As they drift by in the weird light,
Each on its shadowy career —
The mist is in the town to-night,
And all the streets are dumb and drear.
A dead town were less sad a sight
With its dead men and women here,
So one might see them passing near
Beyond the death of love's delight!
The mist is in the town to-night,
And all the streets are dumb and drear.
poem by Robert Crawford
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Night After Night
by Bob Dylan
Night after night you wander the streets of my mind.
Night after night don't know what you think you will find.
No place to go, nowhere to turn,
Everything around you seems to burn, burn, burn.
And there's never any mercy night after night.
Night after night
Night after night
Night after night some new plan to blow up the world.
Night after night another old man kissing some young girl.
You look for salvation, you find none.
Just another broken heart, another barrel of a gun,
Just another stick of dynamite night after night.
Night after night
Night after night
Night after night you drop dead in your bed,
Night after night another bottle finds a head.
Night after night I think about cutting you loose
But I just can't do it, what would be the use?
So I just keep a holding you tight night after night.
Night after night
Night after night
Night after night
Night after night
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Black Silver
Silver is the mirror,
Where colours cannot run
From one into another
For silver it has none
Silver is a blackness
Which defies pure light to come
And when it does reflects it
Its image still as one
So that when you look upon it
Your face it will become
Not in silver, but the colours,
With which your face does run
Then with your world behind you
By light reflected one
Not in blackness, but in colours
You are colours of the sun
All mirrors do remind us
That colour is the light
And that they do not see us
In the darkness of the night
For colours are but energy
From the spectrum as it falls
On everything around us
Except, from silver balls
The colours of the rainbow
The colours in the sky
The colours of our galaxy
Are in a baby’s eye
Colours all around us
Enable us to see
That the world in which we live, is part of us,
Lifes chemistry
poem by Egal Bohen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Last Night
It was all dark:
not that i expected light at night,
the sound of a lingering silence,
echoes reverberating from without,
last night is gone!
When i could see no more,
than the darkness of evil.
When i could hear no more,
than the sounds of the devils laughter
last night is gone
Upon the rock, i watered my plant.
On dry pastures, i cast my seed.
Unto the swine, i gave out my pearl
and all in vain that i toiled.
for it was all dark last night.
In the darkness of night, i am captived
by the light of dawn, i am freed.
Yesterday i was lost, today i am found.
The night is gone, last night is gone.
In the darkness of the world,
humanity is captived.
By the light of Christ,
Man kind is free.
At the fall of man, we were lost
On the day of salvation, we were found
The fallen is restored, last night is gone!
poem by Timothy muggaga
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The Rainbow
Watch the white dawn gleam,
To the thunder of hidden guns.
I hear the hot shells scream
Through skies as sweet as a dream
Where the silver dawn-break runs.
And stabbing of light
Scorches the virginal white.
But I feel in my being the old, high, sanctified thrill,
And I thank the gods that the dawn is beautiful still.
From death that hurtles by
I crouch in the trench day-long,
But up to a cloudless sky
From the ground where our dead men lie
A brown lark soars in song.
Through the tortured air,
Rent by the shrapnel's flare,
Over the troubleless dead he carols his fill,
And I thank the gods that the birds are beautiful still.
Where the parapet is low
And level with the eye
Poppies and cornflowers glow
And the corn sways to and fro
In a pattern against the sky.
The gold stalks hide
Bodies of men who died
Charging at dawn through the dew to be killed or to kill.
I thank the gods that the flowers are beautiful still.
When night falls dark we creep
In silence to our dead.
We dig a few feet deep
And leave them there to sleep -
But blood at night is red,
Yea, even at night,
And a dead man's face is white.
And I dry my hands, that are also trained to kill,
And I look at the stars - for the stars are beautiful still.
poem by Leslie Coulson
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At Night When The World Is Sleeping
at night when the world is sleeping
i have learned to sing inside the chamber of my heart
i have become this nightingale
a black nightingale singing the songs of the full moon
at night i have become this bleeding heart
blood dripping on the floor of the house
at night i beg the moon to listen
to the songs of the black nightingale
i beg the moon
to see the blood from my heart dripping
i beg the floor to understand and for a time being
when sadness and mourning reigns in the house of my body
to keep this bleeding heart
like sands on the floor of its hands.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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An Autumn Day
Floating all night on waves of clouds
Searching for what life enshrouds
Woke in the morning to the misty dew
Lost in thought of the day anew.
I gaze from the window onto the lawn
And engage my thoughts on the new dawn
The colours and signs of seasonal bliss
These are things you should not miss.
Autumn colours of red, brown and gold
The landscape before you do unfold
Trees burn bright against the sun
The afternoon is nearly done.
As the sun goes down the colours surround
Red, yellow, orange melt into the ground
Night time falls and the colours hue
Turning the sky to a deeper blue.
The moon is out in all it's glory
The stars twinkle bright and showy
As the last of the stars fade away
Comes the breaking of a new day.
poem by Hazel Connelly
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Unexplained
In darkness lay the secrets
In darkness lay the creatures
As darkness goes so does the lies
People go missing
Dead bodies found
No blood
Two holes
Life itself drained
And undead walk the living
Undead walk the night
Sun to strong
Night just right
Undead walk the night
Undead walk the living
More bodies found
No blood
Two holes
People grow cautious
Religion, Superstitious, Paranormal
All things questioned
All life questioned
People turn on each other
More bodies
No blood
Two holes
People flee
People run screaming
All that's left are the secrets
All that's left are the creatures
And the darkness that holds the lies
poem by Sam Wright
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All Souls
I
A THIN moon faints in the sky o'erhead,
And dumb in the churchyard lie the dead.
Walk we not, Sweet, by garden ways,
Where the late rose hangs and the phlox delays,
But forth of the gate and down the road,
Past the church and the yews, to their dim abode.
For it's turn of the year and All Souls' night,
When the dead can hear and the dead have sight.
II
Fear not that sound like wind in the trees:
It is only their call that comes on the breeze;
Fear not the shudder that seems to pass:
It is only the tread of their feet on the grass;
Fear not the drip of the bough as you stoop:
It is only the touch of their hands that grope -
For the year's on the turn, and it's All Souls' night,
When the dead can yearn and the dead can smite.
III
And where should a man bring his sweet to woo
But here, where such hundreds were lovers too?
Where lie the dead lips that thirst to kiss,
The empty hands that their fellows miss,
Where the maid and her lover, from sere to green,
Sleep bed by bed, with the worm between?
For it's turn of the year and All Souls' night,
When the dead can hear and the dead have sight.
IV
And now that they rise and walk in the cold,
Let us warm their blood and give youth to the old.
Let them see us and hear us, and say: 'Ah, thus
In the prime of the year it went with us!'
Till their lips drawn close, and so long unkist,
Forget they are mist that mingles with mist!
For the year's on the turn, and it's All Souls' night,
When the dead can burn and the dead can smite.
V
Till they say, as they hear us - poor dead, poor dead! -
'Just an hour of this, and our age-long bed -
Just a thrill of the old remembered pains
To kindle a flame in our frozen veins,
Just a touch, and a sight, and a floating apart,
As the chill of dawn strikes each phantom heart -
For it's turn of the year and All Souls' night,
When the dead can hear, and the dead have sight.'
VI
And where should the living feel alive
But here in this wan white humming hive,
As the moon wastes down, and the dawn turns cold,
And one by one they creep back to the fold?
And where should a man hold his mate and say:
'One more, one more, ere we go their way'?
For the year's on the turn, and it's All Souls' night,
When the living can learn by the churchyard light.
VII
And how should we break faith who have seen
Those dead lips plight with the mist between,
And how forget, who have seen how soon
They lie thus chambered and cold to the moon?
How scorn, how hate, how strive, we too,
Who must do so soon as those others do?
For it's All Souls' night, and break of the day,
And behold, with the light the dead are away. . . .
poem by Edith Wharton
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Such A Night
(words & music by lincoln chase)
It was a night oo-oo what a night
It was it really was such a night
The moon was bright oh how so bright
It was it really was such a night
The night was alight with stars above
Oo-oo when she kissed me
I had to fall in love
Oh it was a kiss oo-oo what a kiss
It was it really was such a kiss
Oh how she could kiss oh what a kiss
It was it really was such a kiss
Just the thought of her lips
Sets me afire
I reminisce and Im filled with desire
But Id gave my heart to her in sweet surrender
How well I remember, Ill always remember
Oh, what a night oo-oo what a night
It was it really was such a night
Came the dawn and my heart and her love
And the night was gone
But Ill never forget the kiss
The kiss in the moonlight
Oo-oo such a kiss, such a night
It was a night oo-oo what a night
It was it really was such a night
Came the dawn and my heart and her love
And the night was gone
But Ill never forget the kiss
The kiss in the moonlight
How well I remember, Ill always remember
That night oo-oo what a night
It was it really was such a night
When we kissed I had to fall in love
But Id gave my heart to her in sweet surrender
How well I remember, Ill always remember
Oh that night oo-oo what a night
It was it really was such a night
When we kissed I had to fall in love
Well shes gone, gone, gone
Yes shes gone, gone, gone
Came the dawn, dawn, dawn
And my love was gone
But before that dawn
Yes before that dawn and before that dawn
Oo-oo, oo-oo, oo-oo, oo-oo, oo-oo
Such a night
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Because I Am
Because I am your star
life shines in the sky
night loves to sleep late
the day closes its eyes
If you want be my star
become alive on earth
become the night’s lover
be a man in the dawn
Because I am your dream
life pierces in your mind
the night gazes into your soul
the day takes its stroll
If you want be my dream
seed life in my arms
pour passion in the night
transform the days into flowers
Because I am your warmth
life swims in your blood
night overflows your heart
the day longs for the night
If you want be my warmth
allow blood to come alive
shed the night from the heart
the day caresses the night
You and I are in love
me and you in the night
If you are my dream
I become reality
You and I are in love
in the night, you and me
If I am a real women
you pass into eternity
poem by Silviu Craciunas
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Mid-night Sun
it is quiet in the night, as the clock strikes mid night the darkness creeps over the night like a shadow of a person. but no one will be awake till the sun comes back, or if the light breaks thourgh the sadness and darkness that looms over the mid night time.
this the mid night the will end the chapters of the night.
poem by Alexis Stanfield
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