Oakland
Steel slugs slam
into black, shattered walls,
dim cars grinding
down sanguine streets
careening
into the black well
of night.
The sun,
dropping into deep,
inky waters
shines
on some other world,
and the pale moon
pours thick silence
into the portals of our ears.
We lift our faces
into black rain,
to purify sullied eyes
left bloody and dim
by the death of children,
the strangulation of faith.
She watches and weeps
And waits for words
she longs to hear,
“Ave Maria…pray for us sinners, ”
and at once dropping
to bended knee
gazes
into His human eyes.
“now and at the hour”
The hour of a million sins
The hour of deep silence
Come home at last,
“of our death”
as bitter wormwood bores deep
in the bowels of our fear.
Smiling,
she intones her answer,
“Amen.”
poem by Steven Federle
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Related quotes
Why the silence?
Why the silence? Is it the hour of sunset?
Or the eyes may straggle and it's the hour of dreams
Or the mind may have been displaced and it's hour of reflections
Or the heart has been busy and it's hour of the groans
Why the silence? Is it the hour of sunset?
Or the words have got lost in the midst of ideas
Or silence now become the language of the times
Or the tongue tie with a sunset
Why the silence? Is it the hour of sunset?
Or now no need for my presence
Or now I am a hidden friend
Or now I am not who I was
Why the silence? Is it the hour of sunset?
Or... And the story continue silently
poem by Mohammed AlBalushi
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Breaking The Silence
They told me to run, but just how far?
Can I go wearing the black mask of fear?
The hate in my eyes always gives me away
The tension building slowly
Now I lost everything I had in you
Nothing we shared means a thing
Without you close to me
I cant live without you
Breaking the silence of the night
Cant you hear me screaming?
I look for your face in the neon light
You never answer me
Theres no direction to my stare
No more flame burning in my heart anymore
Quiet, I keep it to myself
Until the sun sets slowly
I hear your voice in the evening rain calling
Nothing will keep us apart
No more lies and fear
Theres no end to our story
Breaking the silence of the night
Cant you hear me screaming?
I look for your face in the neon light
You never answer
I could make all the wrong seem right
If you were by my side
Id gather all the tears you cried
And hide them deep underground
Cant look back, its just a waste of time
Cant erase this hate from my eyes
Breaking the silence of the night
Through the streets Im screaming
Looking for you in the neon light
Why dont you answer me?
Breaking the silence with my cries
Cant you hear me screaming?
We could make all this wrong seem right
But you never answer me
song performed by by Queensryche
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The 'Mary Ross
'What was the hardest hour’, you ask,
‘Ever I had at sea?’
There was that in the wreck of the Mary Ross
Is bitten into me.
Five merry weeks of sun and speed,
A ship well mann’d and stout—
One hour from home she falter’d, stopp’d
Short … and the lights went out.
What follow’d—O just-dealing God,
How firm must be Thy mind,
Such a beginning to have given
And such an end design’d!
…Sudden, from human eyes and hands
And kindred human breath,
Into the wild black Void, into
The unthought-on fangs of Death…
…The bitter cold was all—then breath
Again, and something cross’d
My clutching fingers; with a spar
Now was I driven and toss’d.
Where were the rest? My strain’d ear caught
No answer … Dazed and stark,
Moments it may have been, or hours,
Dash’d thro’ the roaring dark.
I thought that I must have traversed Time
And touch’d Eternity,
When, high in the air, a cry, a wail:
‘I am afraid! Save me!’
And yonder!—Oh what ’s that blacker black
Bulged out upon the gloom?
By the glint of the whirling spray I saw
Her lifted stern-post loom.
‘Save me!’ Oh what ’s yon whiter speck
O’er the yeasty glimmer wild?
Terribly flashed the hasty moon
On—the face of a little child!
Back chased the blessed dark—but, oh!
I’d seen! Aye, all too clear
I see her still—the piteous mouth,
The great eyes fixt with fear.
Not an hour since upon my knee
Her good-night pranks were play’d,
And now—to face Death … and alone…
God! and afraid? ‘Afraid!’
Oh, I cried from the trough—I promised her
The help that I could not give.
The wind drove back my words—the waves
Drove on their fugitive.
‘Somebody save me!’ And again
For one mad second’s space,
’Mid the rushing rack the quiet moon,
’Mid the wide void, that face!
And she saw me! Great Heaven, she smiled!
Stretch’d out her arms and cried,
‘Save me!’ and half my name—and then…
Then she was pacified.
For … a swirl … a suck … when next I rose,
Naught, save the stormy roar!
Down in the darkness I thank’d God.
She was afraid no more.
poem by Blanche Edith Baughan
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Lied II
How many times does a dog bark
in the night, the same two-tone bark:
black. red. black, black, red-unseen,
never tiring or growing hoarse, the
rope tightening about his throat an-
chored in eternity. Black, red, red,
red, black, red, red, black, black, black,
complaining it is cold or alone,
complaining its life's a bust.
How many times does a cab stop
in the light rain of a night
short, before a diaphanous screen door
to which a thick moth clings-
a little tire-shriek capping a faint
complaint of rubber against its condition
over a crunch of gravel, of course, and a slam,
waking the body sleeping within, who
sits up with a start and remembering nakedness
intones, 'Lovely moment, at last you have come? '
poem by Morgan Michaels
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A Voice On The Wind
I
She walks with the wind on the windy height
When the rocks are loud and the waves are white,
And all night long she calls through the night,
'O my children, come home!'
Her bleak gown, torn as a tattered cloud,
Tosses around her like a shroud,
While over the deep her voice rings loud,-
'O my children, come home, come home!
O my children, come home!'
II
Who is she who wanders alone,
When the wind drives sheer and the rain is blown?
Who walks all night and makes her moan,
'O my children, come home!'
Whose face is raised to the blinding gale;
Whose hair blows black and whose eyes are pale,
While over the world goes by her wail,-
'O my children, come home, come home!
O my children, come home!'
III
She walks with the wind in the windy wood;
The dark rain drips from her hair and hood,
And her cry sobs by, like a ghost pursued,
'O my children, come home!'
Where the trees loom gaunt and the rocks stretch drear,
The owl and the fox crouch back with fear,
As wild through the wood her voice they hear,-
'O my children, come home, come home!
O my children, come home!'
IV
Who is she who shudders by
When the boughs blow bare and the dead leaves fly?
Who walks all night with her wailing cry,
'O my children, come home!'
Who, strange of look, and wild of tongue,
With wan feet wounded and hands wild-wrung,
Sweeps on and on with her cry, far-flung,-
'O my children, come home, come home!
O my children, come home!'
V
'Tis the Spirit of Autumn, no man sees,
The mother of Death and of Mysteries,
Who cries on the wind all night to these,
'O my children, come home!'
The Spirit of Autumn, pierced with pain,
Calling her children home again,
Death and Dreams, through ruin and rain,-
'O my children, come home, come home!
O my children, come home!'
poem by Madison Julius Cawein
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No Prizes (Stream VII)
Sucked deep down,
Down deep
In that pit.
Pitted against the black dog.
Pitied-
We who are trapped in the zoo.
Prize specimens,
Given no prizes.
A pity they don't see you
But see through you.
Transparent thin,
Thinly disguised.
Disguised as human,
This inhuman death,
Which is no death,
A living death.
Eaten away,
You look up and see
Mirrored in the glass,
The glass that separates,
Not the you you knew
But a stranger.
Strangers eyes.
Sad Eyed.
Dead eyed.
The black dog wins.
poem by Paul Brookes
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The Witches' Glen - An Auld Tale
Gather aroon the ingle nuek
For ae eerie tale I'll tell -
'Boot a glen whar a witchy spook
Cast folk in her terrible spell.
Her hair sae black, her eyes sae green
Black Meg she was the devil's queen.
Warlocks an witches dance at night
When the full-moon turns its ken!
Thunder rides on a bolt of light
The deil's in the witches' glen!
Her hair sae black, her eyes sae green
Black Meg she was the devil's queen.
Auld trees hang o'er the twisted wynd
An' blot oot the licht o' day;
An there, there's staring eyes tae find
A stranger wha's lost their way.
Her hair sae black, her eyes sae green
Black Meg she was the devil's queen.
Frae Grennan wood she hailed an flew
A flash thru the black night wind
Come witchin hour everyin knew
She'd get a' the folks wha sinned.
Her hair sae black, her eyes sae green
Black Meg she was the devil's queen.
They burned her on Kirkmaiden hill
An' they bound her on a stake:
She chanted spells that made 'em ill
An' they pray'd for Jesus' sake.
Her hair sae black, her eyes sae green
Black Meg she was the devil's queen.
When ere ye walk the witches' glen,
Whar branches stretch oot like hands
Tak' Bible, cross an' say, Amen!
An' heed the guid Lord's commands.
Her hair sae black, her eyes sae green
Black Meg she's still there tae be seen.
poem by Patrick Scott Hogg
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Deep
Every time I hear the sound of the rain
Beating on my roof again
I want to taste your love
And I want to go deep
Deep
I want to go deep
Deep
I want to go deep
Every time I lift my eyes to the sky
Something in my heart asks why
I want to know the truth
And I want to go deep
Deep
I want to go deep
Like the footprints
Disappearing from the sand
I try to catch the thought
It slips right through my hand
And as the darkness
Throws its cloak upon the ground
I start to run to you
Ive got to take you down
I want to go deep
Deep
I want to go deep
Deep
I want to go deep
Every time I feel Im loosing my way
The power of your love remains
I want to touch your love
An I want to go deep
Deep
I want to go deep
Deep
I want to go deep
Deep
I want to go deep
song performed by by Moody Blues
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Little Roads
The great roads are all grown over
That seemed so firm and white.
The deep black forests have covered them.
How should I walk aright?
How should I thread these tangled mazes,
Or grope to that far off light?
I stumble round the thickets, and they turn me
Back to the thickets and the night.
Yet, sometimes, at a word, an elfin pass-word,
(O, thin, deep, sweet with beaded rain!)
There shines, through a mist of ragged-robins,
The old lost April-coloured lane,
That leads me from myself; for, at a whisper,
Where the strong limbs thrust in vain,
At a breath, if my heart help another heart,
The path shines out for me again.
A thin thread, a rambling lane for lovers
To the light of the world's one May,
Where the white dropping flakes may wet our faces
As we lift them to the bloom-bowed spray:
O Master, shall we ask Thee, then, for high-roads,
Or down upon our knees and pray
That Thou wilt ever lose us in Thy little lanes,
And lead us by a wandering way.
poem by Alfred Noyes
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Defiant Pattern
you feel betrayed
sometimes
stones like us
some
have turned into birds
behold the clouds
they were once
like us
too
the dropp of rain
comes to you in a dream as
an ocean
black turns gold before
your eyes
the jinx has become
famous Lady Luck
you ask so many questions
they get mad
you get punished for
such a
philosophical misbehavior
defiant pattern
bad to see and must not be
published
you feel betrayed
by a storm of biases
there is no place for you
and so
you do not turn into a bird
or cloud
or ocean
you remain as stone
deep under
you live in silence
apart from the world of birds
and skies
and oceans
you are stone
perfect in your silence
undiscovered gem
how will you ever
discover that stone in you
glittering in silence
depths of black
strata of wisdom
no one knows
they have taken nothing
from you
you have buried your mouth
and eyes
and ears in that blackness of
your chosen silence
defiant pattern
beautiful secret underneath
the
earth of layers of
silence
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Blackness Of The Black Black Night
THE BLACKNESS OF THE BLACK BLACK NIGHT
The blackness of the black black black night
The blackness inside-
‘The wretch concentred all in self’
Why oh I oh I oh I?
A million times the question comes
Focusing only on number one.
Who are we
And what can we be
If we are only
‘me me me’?
The blackness of the black black night
The blackness deep deep inside
Why oh why oh why oh
Always always always ‘I’?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The children in black
The children in black
Where did their childhoods go
Trailing water behind
How did they become this cynical
They write words of hate
Tears of joy is no longer a term for them
How can they be so small
But hate so much
The children in black
The children in black
What happened to happiness
Are they that controlled
That everything can effect them
Don't they have the right to laugh
Why are their eyes this guarded
Does everything have to be that formal
What happened to innocence
Did it go away with the faith
The children in black
The children in black
I can see the bitterness
Can't you see the ugly truth
Bitter minds already got their minds trained
So why are children so dark
Is there that much pain
The children in black
The children in black
What happened to be open minded
Did it close like a door
Only opening for a few
Is this society that negative
That they can't see the light
What happened to love
Loving parents and friends
It must have went away
The children in black
The children in black
Their hate scares me
Their eyes make me grimace
With thier hate they can stop the world
But how is that possible when they are so young
Are their minds that easy to twist
The children in black
The children in black
I hope they will soon see the light
I don't know if it's normal to be afraid
But that's what I feel
Why do most people find it easier to be sad
Do they realize it's not
The children aren't children anymore
They're miny adults trying to impress
Why don't people realize this
Are they that oblivious
Maybe if people opened their eyes we could do something
But until then...
The children in black
poem by Lillie Ellis
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The Three Ponds in Hellbrunn
The First
Around the flowers the blowflies reel,
Around the pale flowers on dull flood,
Go away! Go away! The air burns!
In the depth the fervor of putrefaction glows!
The pasture weeps, the silence stares,
A sultry vapor brews on the waters.
Go away! Go away! It is the place
For black toads' disgusting rut.
The Second
Images of clouds, flowers, and people
Sing, sing, joyful world!
Smiling innocence reflects you -
Everything it likes becomes heavenly!
It amicably transforms darkness into light,
Distant things become near! O joyful you!
Sun, clouds, flowers and people
Breathe the peace of God in you.
The Third
The waters shimmer greenish-blue
And calmly the cypresses breathe,
The evening sounds bell-deep -
Then the depth grows immeasurably.
The moon rises, the night turns blue,
Blossoms in the reflection of the floods -
An enigmatic Sphinx face,
On which my heart wants to bleed to death.
poem by Georg Trakl
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A Million Days
It's only been a hour since U left me
But it feels like a million days
If Eye had a magic wand eye could turn back time
Eye'd never let U go away
Eye didn't have the heart 2 say eye'm sorry
Now eye haven't got a heart at all
Eye could tolerate the pain if eye could talk 2 my best friend
But U won't even call
Eye'm contemplating pulling out my suitcase
And packing everything eye own
Eye didn't back then but eye do know now
Wherever U r is home
Eye'll crawl on my belly and beg U
But Ur so far away
U've only been gone 4 an hour
But it seems like a million days
It's only been a hour since U left me
Eye wish eye had somebody 2 blame
But Ur the perfect picture of what love should look like
And eye wanna b Ur frame
It's only been a hour but it feels like a million days
A million days
One hundred thousand million days
Come home, come home baby
Eye can't take this no more
Well, come home baby oh yeah
Baby, eye know eye shouldn't put my faith in heroes
But eye can't c U any other way
It's only been a hour since U left me girl
Feels like a million, feels like a million days
Come home baby
song performed by by Prince
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Max
Who is that big black dog I see?
Who is that big black dog indeed.
With a deep black shiny coat and sharp teeth that could bite to a gore
Who is that big black dog?
Come big black dog
Come to me
Those brown eyes that see
They see things at night that would frighten me.
But, oh, my big black dog
How I thank GOD that you have nails and a ferocious look to protect me
Come and walk with me for you see things I cannot see
I will never be afraid with you near me.
So, please, never go away my big black dog…
Just you and me, my MAX and me.
poem by Bonnie Lisa Sanchez
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The Root that Planted Deep
Deep
Deep
Don't run too deep
You may not find the way back home
What are you escaped from?
What you try to avoid
Till you hide in the deep deep forest?
Deep
Deep
Don't think too deep
You will drown in your darkest mind
What are you afraid for?
What you try to fight
Till you are losing where's up and down in deep deep ocean?
Deep
Deep
Don't look too deep
You are being allured by those beautiful eyes
What if the thing you called curse is bound you forever?
What if you finally see
The truth that lays behind the deep deep abbys?
Deep
Deep
Don't fall too deep
You will not be able to ignore it anymore
What will you do if it's going stronger?
What will happen to you
When it becomes the root that planted deep?
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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black RESPECT
Black shoes,
black suits,
black sandals
black you,
black specs,
black life,
black faces,
black casket dropped deep the dark grave,
Red ribbons,
red lights,
red flowers,
red wine.
Hearse sirens
wailing women,
Black speeches,
Blackened praises, all in all they call it the last respect
poem by Joub kahuria
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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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Black and White
My world is black and white,
The colors I see is black and white,
Hold me tight,
Don’t let me go,
See the tears I have cried,
Listen to my cry,
Look into my eyes,
My world is black and white,
Cut my wrist,
Black my eyes,
Blacken these thoughts I think of,
Black and white is all I can see,
The tears is all I can feel,
Feel me fading away,
Watching myself falling apart,
Look deep into my eyes,
Can you see me,
Can you feel the pain I feel,
I don’t understand why I am feeling this sad,
All the moments that once we shared has faded away like others have,
I never did tried to see the beyond the black and white clouds,
I need to face what I have become,
I need to find my way back,
The black and white is all I can see and feel,
My world has been black and white.
poem by Jennifer Rondeau
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5 a.m. Port of Pulawan
the port of pulawan
is insomniac,
it is the meaning of its name,
it does not sleep,
people here, even the children have
deep sunken eyes
like an old deep
well,
when you call a name,
it echoes deep down there and it comes back
to you after
a while, telling you
'there is no water here! '
when you arrive here,
you call a name, and it is the same answer,
like what their eyes
are saying,
in fact, shouting,
you hear it well,
a friend of yours with long hair
disembarked immediately
the sound of arrival faded with the smoke of the
ship,
he is met by your student who flunked the bar this year,
the first time that you notice
that this guy is limping,
she carried a bag full of clothes,
dirty ones from the hospital
her mother has cancer of the lymph nodes
and at terminal stage
she has her only daughter
who drops her samsung tablet on the floor of the boat
nothing is broken,
they invite you for a ride in their old
black car,
you shake your head, you want to wait
somebody is coming,
the one you doubt you love says that she is coming to fetch you.
you want to go back to your way.
The sun shines. The sea is very calm.
The children are now wearing their deep sunken eyes.
Deep dry wells,
running out of water.
Pretty much like
you.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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