An Afternoon Poem Is Rare
AN AFTERNOON POEM IS RARE
An Afternoon Poem is rare-
Afternoon is long after the first light-
Afternoon is a time of heaviness and quiet
A time of rest-
Afternoon is after the morning work has been done-
Afternoon is the weight of the day-
Afternoon is the time after the day has lost its freshness-
Still there must be afternoon poems-
There must be a beauty that emerges
In its own way,
Perhaps from where lovers meet
Perhaps from ‘ripeness is all’
Perhaps from the anticipation of evening
Perhaps from winter where it is the warmest time of day.
There must be afternoon poems-
Poems that celebrate all that warmth can bring-
Poems of rest poems of sleep-
Poems of waiting to believe
That in the evening
A new day and a new world
Will make life easier again.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Morning Poem Did Not Come
THE MORNING POEM DID NOT COME
The morning poem did not come-
So this is the effort of an afternoon poem,
Warm and sun- filled and relaxing and deep and waiting.
This is a poem between times more interesting than itself.
The light is so great now.
But this too is a poem of little or nothing to say
Of afternoon emptiness after morning emptiness
On a tired tired day.
Once I thought I would write poems which would make immortal
Those I love.
Now I write poems to keep myself going.
This afternoon I am extremely tired
But if this is poem
Or even if I only think it is
I can have a rest
Before I face the evening.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Afternoon Tea
Tea time wont be the same without my donna
At night I lie awake and dream of donna
I think about that small cafe
Thats where we used to meet each day
And then we used to sit a while
And drink our afternoon tea
Ill take afternoon tea (afternoon tea)
If you take it with me (afternoon tea)
You take as long as you like
cause I like you, girl
I take sugar with tea (afternoon tea)
You take milk if you please (afternoon tea)
Like you talking to me
Because you ease my mind
Ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba (afternoon tea)
Ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba (afternoon tea)
Ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba (afternoon tea)
Ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba (afternoon tea)
Tea time still aint the same without my donna
At night I lie awake and dream of donna
I went to our cafe one day
They said that donna walked away
Youd think at least she might have stayed
To drink her afternoon tea
Ill take afternoon tea (afternoon tea)
If you take it with me (afternoon tea)
You take as long as you like
cause I like you, girl
I take afternoon tea (afternoon tea)
Every day of the week (afternoon tea)
Please come along if you like
Because I like you, girl
Ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba (afternoon tea)
Ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba (afternoon tea)
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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An Evening Poem
AN EVENING POEM
An evening poem
Waits for deeper darkness
A night poem knows blackness
As home.
A morning poem is light
An afternoon poem is thick with heat.
All times have a poem
And all seasons poems also
All lives are poems
And all stories also.
We all are and all know poems
Poems pervade us
And the universe.
It is night now
But when the morning comes
Its poem will overshadow now.
What a brave new world it is
With so many poems in it
And what a life-
With such deep sadness
Waiting forever to be unexpressed.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Poem of the Afternoon
THE POEM OF THE AFTERNOON
The poem of the afternoon
Long and drawn out
Does not know why it is written
And what its true name is.
It does not ask or answer
Remember or remain
It simply appears
And disappears
As if its writing
Were yet
One more way of
Just being in the world
And passing its light.
The poem of the afternoon
Does not know why it is
Or why it should be
But now that it is here
It looks out at the trees
Through the sun of its pages
And prepares itself to be read and reread
As if someone somewhere
Searches and sees it.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Three Times Of Prayer Each Day
THREE TIMES OF PRAYER EACH DAY
My poems are more of morning than of night-
And of afternoon least of all.
The first light is hope
And the darkness needs help.
But who knows how to define
The long struggle of the afternoon
In which we live so much of our life?
It is morning again
And who knows what this day will bring?
And what the times of life will require?
But the light of the day is already here
So let us try to begin again.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Long Afternoon Became Longer
THE LONG AFTERNOON BECAME LONGER
The long afternoon became longer-
Time had no end and boredom also-
We all know it will eventually pass
But in the middle we are marooned waiting
Without any idea whatsoever of what to do-
I write these lines because I know
Boredom too has its beauty-
And waiting for nothing also its dream-
And out of nowhere there may come
Long into the long afternoon
Far after all the work is done and nothing remains
While waiting is still going on
A small poem to break the monotony
And give meaning back to life.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Poem That Comes After The Afternoon Nap
THE POEM THAT COMES AFTER THE AFTERNOON NAP
The poem that comes after the afternoon nap
Wakes the world
Is clear
Understands
Hears the answers to problems
It could not see before.
The poem that comes after the afternoon nap
Is a clear- minded Poem
A Poem of light
A Poem without fear
A happy Poem.
It has the answer
To the question
Yesterday asked
And tomorrow may make questionable again
A happy poem
Now.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poem Of The Afternoon
Poem of the afternoon
What do you have to say for yourself?
You are tired and you want a nap
But it’s too late for a nap
We must be going-
Poem of the afternoon
Say something different
Say life is wonderful
On a warm day after many cold ones
Say life is wonderful
When you can still walk and talk and move about
Though you are older than you ever thought you’d be-
Poem of the afternoon
Cloudy and a bit sunny
Say the night is still a certain way off
And the day the long day is still happily with us.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Is There A Poem Of The Afternoon?
IS THERE A POEM OF THE AFTERNOON?
Is there a poem of the afternoon?
Sadness at so little having been done in the morning
I have spent a life escaping
And today too I escaped
Learning studying reading
Other worlds other people other minds
Far from practical problems.
The sun is strong today and the summer come early
And the days will be long now with the clock changed
I have tried to focus on Poetry this year
But I have not really gone back to re-read the Poems of my life
War threatens for a change
It may be that our city will be on fire and our neighborhood burn as never before
We pray somehow for a miracle of survival without war and destruction
They hate us and they hate us and they hate us
One – fifth of mankind cannot bear two- tenths of one percent of us
Pesach will be here in two weeks time
I have written only a small fraction of all that is in me
And even that is far too much for me to ever reread
Life goes on for now
I am still alive
It is a beautiful sunny afternoon in Yerushalyim
I have been here for thirty- four years now
There should be somehow one decisive concluding line
That brings this poem together
And makes it worthwhile
How happy I am in my old age now loving life so much
G-d has been so good to me through all these years
What a beautiful beautiful day to look out at from inside.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Glorafilia
She keeps me waiting in the morning
Tying ribbons in her hair
And come the evening theres no warning
Why Im not to know why she isnt there
No time to tell her all the reasons
Why I always disappear
And in those desperate situations
I just fade away still she never cares
But Glorafilia says
She says its just another Sunday afternoon oh oh
And Glorafilia says
She says there aint no point in loving you no oh
She keeps me wrapped around her finger
So I dont know what to do
And using my imagination
She could set me free
I bet she's dying to
And sipping wine around a table
Her expense is plain to see
Entertainging for a living
Shes got everything that she doesn't need
But Glorafilia says
She says its just another Sunday afternoon oh oh
And Glorafilia says
She says there aint no point in loving you no oh
I cant sleep at night
I must show that things just ain't right
I really need to know
But Glorafilia says
She says its just another Sunday afternoon oh oh
And Glorafilia says
She says there ain't no point in loving you no oh
But Glorafilia says
She says its just another Sunday afternoon oh oh
And Glorafilia says
She says there ain't no point in loving you no oh
song performed by by Zed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Late Afternoon Is Heat
THE LATE AFTERNOON IS HEAT
The late afternoon is heat
The poem is far away
The day has yet to begin
I am old
Time mocks me with another small smile at its passing.
I do not know where I am going
And what I will be
And how I will die.
But I will die
And in much less time
Than I have already lived.
Late afternoon
The heat
My tiredness
The silence
This poem
Tonight will be Shabbat
Another day will begin
Time mocks me with its passing
And blesses me with each moment I still live.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In The Afternoon
The light is fading in the afternoon
Wont you see me baby in my room
Theres something that I wanna say to you
Tell me baby am I getting through
Wanna make, wanna make, wanna make, wanna make
Love to you
Wanna make, wanna make, wanna make, wanna make
Love to you
Wanna make, wanna make, wanna make, wanna make
Love to you
In the afternoon, in the afternoon
The light is fading from across the way
I see you coming baby every day
I see you running, running from across the field
And I wanna know if you can feel the same as me
Cause I wanna make, wanna make, wanna make, wanna make
Love to you
Wanna make, wanna make, wanna make, wanna make
Love to you
Wanna make, wanna make, wanna make, wanna make
Love to you
In the afternoon, in the afternoon
The wind is howling baby outside the shack
Train whistle blowin from across the track
Get on my wavelength, and you set me free
I just wanna be everything you want me to be
Wanna make, wanna make, wanna make, wanna make
Love to you
Wanna make, wanna make, wanna make, wanna make
Love to you
Wanna make, wanna make, wanna make, wanna make
Love to you
In the afternoon, in the afternoon
The moon is sinking way across the trees
I can see my baby but she cant see me
Ive got a longing deep within my soul
I have to take it there and let it roll
Wanna make, wanna make, wanna make, wanna make
Love to you
Wanna make, wanna make, wanna make, wanna make
Love to you
Wanna make, wanna make, wanna make, wanna make
Love to you
In the afternoon, make love in the afternoon
Make love in the afternoon
Let it roll
You got me reelin and a-rockinand rollin again
Let it roll
You got me reelin and a-rockinand rollin and rollin again
Oh, Im rollin and tumblin, and Im rollin and tumblin
And Im talkin all outta my mind baby
Let it roll
You got me reelin and a-rockin
And Im talkin all outta my mind
Im talkin all outta my mind
Make love in the afternoon
Make love in the afternoon
Make love in the afternoon
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Disco
every night is disco night
with you im living every moment for you
seeing things in a different way
of my god im thankful that youre leaving
is there something we can do, this afternoon
is there nothing left to say
oh your love, cautions you
you are something new
afternoon
ill make it up to somehow
im laughing and youre dancing like my mother
ill teach you to go off on me
shake, shake from the horror
mirror naked feeling hot
your radio is not store bought but stolen
another night is going out
its saturday and now youve got the fever
is there something we can do, this afternoon
is there nothing left to say
oh your love, cautions you
you are something new
afternoon
is there something we can do, this afternoon
is there nothing left to say
oh your love, warning you
and you are so beautiful
youll just have to do
is there nothing left to say
song performed by by Howie Day
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Not Every Poem Knows How To Say Its Own Name Properly
NOT EVERY POEM KNOWS HOW TO SAY ITS OWN NAME PROPERLY
Not every poem knows how to say its own name properly-
There are poems that have no name
And poems that are named by others who have not written them-
There are poems whose names make them what they are
And poems whose names contradict and belie them-
Many poems have their first lines as their names
And these poems often are as memorable as one line only-
Great poems and good poems can be nameless
Or can have unforgettable names.
Not every poem knows how to say its own name properly -
Poems are poems are poems
And names are names are names
And sometimes they meet and are one
And live happily ever after-
But there are times when perhaps
They never should have met each other at all.
Poems have their names
And names have their poems
But sometimes they love each other
And truly are one.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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If Every Time of the Day Has a Poem of Its Own
If every time of the day
Has a poem of its own
This afternoon too should long
To say something about itself-
But as it stretches its slow length too long
As it makes heat and light one long unending discomfort,
This afternoon says only
That even the time of day
Cannot mean much
If one does not have something
Outside oneself
To say in it.
All heat and light are emptiness now
And the overwhelming shape of brightness
Is nothing more than the stunned silence
One fears when one wakes from a bad dream
In the middle of the day and night.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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In The Morning
I can't stop myself from calling
Calling out your name
I can't stop myself from falling
Falling back again
In the morning
Baby, in the afternoon
Dark like the shady corner
Inside a violin
Hot like to burn my lips
I know I can't win
In the morning
Baby, in the afternoon
I try to quit you but I'm too weak
Waking up without you
I can hardly speak at all
My girlfriend tried to help me
Get you off my mind
She tried a little tea and sympathy
To help me to unwind
In the morning
Baby, in the afternoon
Funny how my favorite shirt
Smells more like you than me
Bitter traces left behind
In stains no one can see
In the morning
Baby, in the afternoon
You're gonna put me in an early grave
I know I'm your slave whenever you call
I can't stop myself from calling
Calling out your name
I can't stop myself from falling
Falling back again
Falling back again
In the morning
Baby, in the afternoon
song performed by by Norah Jones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Melancholia
In the afternoon, baby in my room
When the lights are dim way beyond the hill
In the afternoon, baby in my room
When Im really down get me off the ground
Melancholia, melancholia, melancholia
In the morning time when I go outside
In the morning time its like that all the while
In the afternoon when Im in my room
Every single day, it wont go away
Melancholia, melancholia, melancholia
And its in my heart, when were apart
And it stops and starts, and its in my heart
Every single day its always in my way
When Im making hay, all Ive got to say
Melancholia, melancholia, melancholia
Well its in my blood and its in my veins
Here it comes again, when Im in the rain
In the wind and rain, well the sun dont shine
Well its always mine, all of the time
Melancholia, melancholia, melancholia
And its in my life and its all the time
It doesnt go away when the church bells chime
In the evening time when I drink my wine
In the evening time when its on my mind
Melancholia, melancholia, melancholia
Its only melancholia
Oh melancholia, oh melancholia, oh melancholia, oh melancholia
Melancholia, melancholia
They call it, call it melancholia, call it melancholia, call it melancholia, call it melancholia
Call it melancholia, melancholia, melancholia, melancholia
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Poem Of The Afternoon Quiet Before Shabbat
THE POEM OF THE AFTERNOON QUIET BEFORE SHABBAT
The poem of the afternoon quiet before Shabbat
Is a peaceful poem -
Waiting and already resting
I try to remember those days
When Shabbat was Shabbat
In greatest joy and happiness-
But I am older now than I want to know
Shabbat has a quiet and music of a different kind
God can be served in old age also-
Let the family gather and the guests come
Let prayer be our music -
Joy is rest and quiet and peaceful family love also.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Alien Afternoon
Woke up in the morning staggered out of bed
Thought about getting back again, but went downstairs instead
Read the daily paper have to know the truth
Slammed the door as i ran outside, looked at my watch and cried
Gotta get to work on time
Gotta get to work on time
Then the sky turned a deeper blue
Not a cloud as the sun shone through
But all around rain kept falling to the ground
The wind was blowing but the trees didn't make a sound
Just another alien afternoon
Just another alien afternoon
Time that i was leaving while there's still a chance
Before i start believing in what i see or hear
Nothing here to keep me, nothing anywhere
Gotta get out pack my bags before i go insane
Gotta get away in time
Gotta get away in time
Then the sky turned from blue to green
Took on colours i have never seen
Then a sound started ringing in my ears
I heard voices but in truth there's nobody there
Just another alien afternoon
Just another alien afternoon
To be there back where i belong
To feel again the wind upon my face
To see again all that i took for granted
All that i left and everything i knew
We are home
We are your home
We are all your home
Not another alien afternoon
Never more to go wandering
Never leaving my world behind
There was never a reason
To leave my heart and my home behind
Where i was born is where i should be now
I would never be lonely
I would never be sad again
I wanted to go anywhere
I wanted to see how strange it all could be
Nothing would ever take me away again
Never more to go wandering
Never leaving my world behind
No, no, no, no
Nothing will ever take me away again, away again
No, no, no, no
song performed by by Genesis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I was working on the proof of one of my poems all the morning, and took out a comma. In the afternoon I put it back again.
quote by Oscar Wilde
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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