The Sundown in My Village
With the sun moving westwards
The sky turns crimson like a bride.
Shadows lengthen along country lanes
as snakes uncoiling in the dark.
From the far away minaret,
The muezzin's loud cry is heard.
The *coolies, after the day's toil,
hasten away to their cluttered shacks.
The notes of a familiar lay
flow down from the talkie house.
Women in gaudy, silken wear,
with strings of Jasmine tucked to their hair,
saunter gaily to the local shrine.
Men winding up their day's business
retreat to their habitual haunts.
The herdsmen from slopes of hills,
hasten the sheep to be locked in pens.
Storks line upon slimy fields
to feed on fish, trapped in puddles.
In the slanting beams of evening light,
the landscape lies in ethereal hue.
With the sun,
plummeting into the depths -
I saw……….......
darkness swallowing the sleepy Earth
like a python devouring its unwary prey,
and the day slowly dying down.
Drunk in that gorgeous grace,
I, into a luminous glowworm turned!
poem by Valsa George
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Related quotes
My Red House
My Red House
Be quiet as a mouse
I once played in that red house
Shy was I, like a little mouse
Tippy toed I went looking around
Giggling, without making any sound
Happy was I to run around and play
My very own home to live and stay
My Red House
Be quiet as a mouse
Darkness came swiftly one night
A sense of something was not quite right
The shadows came across the wall
Covering my eyes, ready for my fall
The sounds of whips and chains dragged
against the floor
The sheer terror numbed me from looking
passed that door
My Red House
Be quiet as a mouse
The darkness slowly turned to grey
The black clouds lifting away
No longer trapped, I did not need to stay
Free was I to let go and make my own way
So ever slowly, opening that door
I could see the light and so much more
My Red House
Be quiet as a mouse
Changing and always moving
Never stopping and always wanting
Step by step, I shed all those tears
One at a time, I climbed up those stairs
Moving closer to where I want to be
No longer a child but an adult me
My Red House
Be quiet as a mouse
I came home today
The Red House, same as it was yesterday
Slowly, walking up that hill
Everything seems to be in a stand still
I could only stay for a while
Before the darkness comes within a mile
My Red House
Be quiet as a mouse
The breath of life you gave to me
But took away the child within me
No longer a pawn to your destruction
I have found my peace and resolution
Turning away towards the path of light
I see a very beautiful sight
My Red House
There is no longer a mouse
poem by Miu Miu Ayushi
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The Serpent Is Rising
Written by john curulewski, chuck lofrano
Lead vocals by john curulewski
In the abyss of space
From the center of time
A superman race
Moves the serpent to climb
The journey has lasted
Seven ages or more
Life after life
Must pass through the door
The secret revealed
When you leave your cave
Is a glory of thunder
And life from the grave
The serpent is rising
Uncoiling in your spine
Bringing you light
From the depths of your mind
The people have massed
In the center of town
We drink from a glass
And the world turns around
The serpent is rising
Uncoiling in your spine
Bringing you light
From the depths of your mind
The serpent is rising
Uncoiling in your spine
Bringing you light
From the depths of your mind
The serpent is rising
Uncoiling in your spine
Bringing you light
From the depths of your mind
song performed by by Styx
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Darkness Falls
A blackbird utters its warning call,
As, slowly, darkness begins to fall.
The temperature grows steadily colder,
As the day grows steadily older.
In the houses, lights are being put on,
Now that daylight has almost gone.
Shift workers head out into the night,
While most of us are snuggled up tight.
People head to town for an evening out:
Laughter is heard, as is the odd distant shout.
Cats come out to search and stalk their prey:
Woe betide the creature who steps in their way.
Ducks settle down: Head under their wing.
Small birds have roosted and no longer sing.
Moths flit to and fro around a light.
Bats whizz by silently in their flight.
Small children are being put to bed,
Laying down their sleepy heads.
People settle down to watch the TV,
Hoping that there's something good to see.
The moon shines way up high.
The stars twinkle away in the velvet sky.
Owls come out for their nightly feed,
Hoping to satisfy their hunger needs.
Livestock is rounded up and locked away,
In an attempt to keep the sly foxes at bay.
Spiders come out and crawl about,
Freaking the arachnophobics out.
For hours on end, our world is dark,
Till, by the dawn chorus, first light is marked.
Dawn slowly gives way to daybreak,
And those, who have been sleeping, awake.
While those who have been put to task,
Can head home to their beds at last.
The routine of a brand new day calls,
Until, once again, darkness falls.
poem by Angela Wybrow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Nightfall In The City Of Hyderabad
SEE how the speckled sky burns like a pigeon's throat,
Jewelled with embers of opal and peridote.
See the white river that flashes and scintillates,
Curved like a tusk from the mouth of the city-gates.
Hark, from the minaret, how the muezzin's call
Floats like a battle-flag over the city wall.
From trellised balconies, languid and luminous
Faces gleam, veiled in a splendour voluminous.
Leisurely elephants wind through the winding lanes,
Swinging their silver bells hung from their silver chains.
Round the high Char Minar sounds of gay cavalcades
Blend with the music of cymbals and serenades.
Over the city bridge Night comes majestical,
Borne like a queen to a sumptuous festival.
poem by Sarojini Naidu
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At Nightfall
The dark is coming o'er the world, my playmate,
And the fields where poplars stand are very still,
All our groves of green delight have been invaded,
There are voices quite unknown upon the hill;
The wind has grown too weary for a comrade,
It is keening in the rushes spent and low,
Let us join our hands and hasten very softly
To the little, olden, friendly path we know.
The stars are laughing at us, O, my playmate,
Very, very far away in lonely skies,
The trees that were our friends are strangers to us,
And the fern is full of whispers and of sighs.
The sounds we hear are not what we may share in,
We may not linger where the white moths roam,
We must hasten yet more swiftly, little playmate,
To the house among the pines that is our home.
The dark is creeping closer yet, my playmate,
And the woods seem crowding nearer as we go,
Oh, how very, very bold have grown the shadows,
They may touch us as they flutter to and fro!
The silence is too dreadful for our laughter,
The night is very full of strange alarms,
But it cannot hurt us now, O, little playmate,
One more step and we are safe in mother's arms!
poem by Lucy Maud Montgomery
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Empty Hands
The root cause lies
in conscious
thought,
for I have distained
to return to you
with empty,
hands unworthy, yet
loyal true love.
Is the greatest gift
greater than all.
Your shining influence
fills the depths of night.
Amazing luminous
clear twinkling stars
invigorating the heavens.
I would give you
the feet of angels
to walk on,
angels’ wings
to ascend on,
their bodies beauty
to dwell on,
my love
to depend on.
If in divine eyes
aspired I to favour
falling on my knees
these gifts would I ask for thee.
In tribute to a spirit
that moves upon the breeze.
May light ever
shine upon your hair
upon the beauty
that you wear.
May sleep grace
your noble tender form
with full glory
to depths you were born.
May sleep’s gentle tendrils
clothe you in peace.
So you awake fresh
to clasp all light you seek.
My one my only
under the sun.
Golden rays shine
from seventh heaven.
For illuminated you
my dearest one.
Upon those blessed beams
your vibrant leaven
is on earth the promised
glimpse of heaven.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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The Earth Laments for Day
THERE’S music wafting on the air,
The evening winds are sighing
Among the trees—and yonder stream
Is mournfully replying,
Lamenting loud the sunny light
That in the west is dying.
The moon is rising o’er the hill,
Her slanting rays are creeping
Where Nature lies profoundly still
In happy quiet sleeping,
And resting on her face, they’ll find
The earth is wet with weeping.
She mourneth for the lovely day,
Now deep in darkness shaded;
She sheds the dewy tear because
Of morning’s mantle faded;
She misses from her breast the garb
In which the moon array’d it.
The evening queen will strive in vain
To break the spell which bound her;
A million stars can never throw
Departed warmth around her;
They all must pass away and leave
The earth as they had found her.
But why should gentle Nature weep
That night has overtaken
The wearied world that needed sleep,
Refreshed to re-awaken,
So richer light might burst around,
The gloomy shadows breaking?
Oh, can she not from yonder sky
That gleams above her, borrow
A single ray, or find a way
To check the tear of sorrow?
A beam of hope would last her till
The dawning of to-morrow.
poem by Henry Kendall
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The Seagull
I see your familiar figure; I hear your raucous cry,
As you catch warm currents of air, way up on high;
You decided to turn tail, and head many miles inland,
Leaving behind shimmering seas, and soft, silken sands.
On a hot summer's day, I yearn to be down by the coast:
Down by the water's edge, is where I love to be the most;
Given the choice of being land-locked or down by the sea,
I wouldn't have a single doubt where I would rather be.
As you fly onwards, you are cooled by the summer breeze;
You travel over hills and dales, and woodlands, full of trees.
I cannot comprehend why you have left your heavenly home:
Why, over unfamiliar territory, you've now decided to roam.
Why journey so far inland, to search for some man-made dish,
When, way out at sea, you can forever feast on tasty, fresh fish?
Your chaotic chorus of calls is such welcome music to my ears:
I recall my visits to the sea, and those memories bring me cheer.
You, and your kind, circle slowly, cruising around and around;
Your lean, dark shadows fleetingly caress the hot, baking ground.
On such a lovely, summer's day, like today, do you all really rate
The joyful and jolly seaside below some sprawling council estate?
Upon your two white fairy-like wings, the glorious sun glints:
The bright sun shines upon you, giving your wings a silvery tint.
Sometimes, late into the evening, as the darkness slowly falls,
I see your flock flying eastwards, and I hear your farewell calls.
I suspect you're flying seawards, leaving locked land way behind.
I wonder if, by being born by the sea, to its beauty, you are blind.
I feel so sad to see you all departing; I feel so sad to see you go,
But chances are that you will all be back for tea again tomorrow.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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From My Room
From my room I hear
The wind blow
Strings from icy harp
Filling the dark
Now outside
The morning comes with night
And leaves with night
My heart is in dark
Like flickering light
Pounding on and on
Through to dreams gone
In the dark clouded sky
With beams of low sun flight
Time slowly passes by
With shadows left to right
From my room I hear
Where I now dwell
The dark voices near
Of iciness and its cartel
Strings from icy harp
Filling the dark
Now outside
*Federico García Lorca once wrote:
“From my room I hear
The water jet
A finger of grapevine…”
poem by Peter S. Quinn
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In Praise Of Henna
A KOKILA called from a henna-spray:
Lira! liree! Lira! liree!
Hasten, maidens, hasten away
To gather the leaves of the henna-tree.
Send your pitchers afloat on the tide,
Gather the leaves ere the dawn be old,
Grind them in mortars of amber and gold,
The fresh green leaves of the henna-tree.
A kokila called from a henna-spray:
Lira! liree! Lira! liree!
Hasten maidens, hasten away
To gather the leaves of the henna-tree.
The tilka's red for the brow of a bride,
And betel-nut's red for lips that are sweet;
But, for lily-like fingers and feet,
The red, the red of the henna-tree.
poem by Sarojini Naidu
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Borrowed Brains
Writer folk across the bay
Take the pains to see and say
All their upward palms in air:
'Joaquin Miller's cut his hair!'
Hasten, hasten, writer folk
In the gutters rake and poke,
If by God's exceeding grace
You may hit upon the place
Where the barber threw at length
Samson's literary strength.
Find it, find it if you can;
Happy the successful man!
He has but to put one strand
In his beaver's inner band
And his intellect will soar
As it never did before!
While an inch of it remains
He will noted be for brains,
And at last ('twill so befall)
Fit to cease to write at all.
poem by Ambrose Bierce
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Olney Hymn 66: I Will Praise The Lord At All Times
Winter has a joy for me,
While the Saviour's charms I read,
Lowly, meek, from blemish free,
In the snowdrop's pensive head.
Spring returns, and brings along
Life-invigorating suns:
Hark! the turtle's plaintive song
Seems to speak His dying groans!
Summer has a thousand charms,
All expressive of His worth;
'Tis His sun that lights and warms,
His the air the cools the earth.
What! has autumn left to say
Nothing of a Saviour's grace?
Yes, the beams of milder day
Tell me of his smiling face.
Light appears with early dawn,
While the sun makes haste to rise;
See His bleeding beauties drawn
On the blushes of the skies.
Evening with a silent pace,
Slowly moving in the west,
Shews an emblem of His grace,
Points to an eternal rest.
poem by William Cowper
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I Will Praise the Lord at All Times
Winter has a joy for me,
While the Saviour's charms I read,
Lowly, meek, from blemish free,
In the snowdrop's pensive head.
Spring returns, and brings along
Life-invigorating suns:
Hark! the turtle's plaintive song
Seems to speak His dying groans!
Summer has a thousand charms,
All expressive of His worth;
'Tis His sun that lights and warms,
His the air the cools the earth.
What! has autumn left to say
Nothing of a Saviour's grace?
Yes, the beams of milder day
Tell me of his smiling face.
Light appears with early dawn,
While the sun makes haste to rise;
See His bleeding beauties drawn
On the blushes of the skies.
Evening with a silent pace,
Slowly moving in the west,
Shews an emblem of His grace,
Points to an eternal rest.
poem by William Cowper
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sun-Woman
Let the sun show
over the hills, I love it so
Life is the sun,
the sun is life
let life rise, brightly, slowly, funly
let life never set.
But it does.
light turns to night, the
darkness comes
my eyes close slowly
sun, please don’t go.
please don’t go.
but wait-in the light of the setting sun
I see some hope
a slender shape
walks over the hills in the distance
the sun halls to a stop, seems
to look at the figure
seems to stare, decide if it’s worthy
then the sun starts flying,
back up into the sky.
the figure keeps walking, closer,
closer.
the sun keeps moving, as fast as light itself,
into the middle of the sky above me.
the shape is hope, hope itself
she is light, and for me, the only
way to avoid darkness.
She is not far now, I see her face.
she says, “Are you all right? ”
“Don’t worry, ” I tell her, “the sun is not
my enemy anymore. He is my ally.”
She smiles at my healing face, and then I say,
“You were my hope, you are my hope. You
are my only hope of avoiding the darkness.”
“And you are the same to me, my love, ”
She says.
I jump up and I take her hands,
and I sing, “My love, my hope,
when you go the darkness comes,
but as long as you come back
light will shed on my weary face.
I owe my life to you, Sun-Woman.
I owe my life to you, my love.
I owe my life to you.
I owe my life to you.”
poem by Llew N. Rmail
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As Night Descends
The night descends,
The light mixing dark, together they blend,
Shadows pounce upon the light,
Forever turning daylight, into night.
Shadows toy and play,
They own the night... Now they shall seize the day,
They sit upon the earth, and watch light decay,
Illuminated light fragments,
like dust they float, Then fall away,
I shall sit with these shadows,
and enjoy corrupt fun,
watch the light fall, as the shadows have won.
My family of shadows, humble yet dark,
always living in turmoil, killing the light, fading the last spark.
The light is no more, we've won....
these wrongs can never be undone.
poem by Crimson Love
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Heart of your Shadow
The Shadows are dark
Can you feel them?
The shadows are hidden
Where did they go?
Can you see it?
The light within the dark?
In hides in the shadows
That one flame
The flickering flame
In the dark
Our hearts
All have a flickering flame
Let that light shine
In the darkest depths
Fear fades with anger and hate
Because of that light
The light lies
In a dark place
Let it shine within
The heart of your shadow
poem by J.T. Derouen
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Lies of The Light
Mislead by the lies of the light
For in the darkness so long
That the dimness seemed bright
So I walked down the path
Of deception and lies
the tears of pain
Turned to joy in my eyes
Who woul've known
That the brightness would fade
what I thought was the light
turned into shades of grey
leading me in directions
I couldn't believe
these eyes of mines
these eyes decieve
So i'm trapped in this light
excepting my fate
I can't see the way back
I can not escape
so I'll search for the darkness
where i'll continue to be
never trusting the light
for it lied to me
poem by Vanessa Mercado
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To flow or carve? .......Destiny or will?
Through snakey lanes I wander,
Blink my eyes in the dark.
Feel the silence settle on my skin,
And in the distance, hear a dog bark.
Its night I know.
Yet I am surprised,
That the light is nowhere.
It's this darkness I despise.
I glide my bare hands,
Along moist slimy walls.
Trying to find my way out,
Into heavens illuminated halls.
But the farther I walk,
The farther I seem to be.
The hot dank sewage smell,
Tells me, its hell that I see.
I flail my arms,
As far as I can.
Trying to break the vice,
That binds me. drags me to where I began.
While I suffer this turmoil,
A stream of water catches my eye.
I watch it flow on the road,
Accommodating the low and the high.
Slowly hope glimmered,
As I learned from the water,
The more you struggle,
Hells fires get hotter.
Go with the flow.
Pain results from intervention.
Let life show you a way.
Sit back, relax, without tension
The water slithered,
On the uneven dank road.
Unperturbed it made its way.
Even the hard road yielded.
The water eroded it away.
Patience is the key,
The light-house of life.
Perseverance is the tool,
To carve out your life.
I suddenly felt free,
To follow my heart.
The hands stopped flailing.
I had found a place to start.
I followed the water,
Like an obedient student.
Chucked my way of living,
Realized it makes sense to be prudent.
But lo behold! the water too,
Lead me to hell's gate.
For running down the slopes,
Unabated, it reached its fate.
The pure stream drowned,
In the ugly drain.
The water lost its identity.
Its purity got a stain.
I don't want to flow,
On a pre destined way,
Only to discover
It's an end to my day.
I want to carve.
Be a master of my destiny.
I am not as lifeless,
As the water I now pity.
I flex my muscles.
Try to rediscover my course.
And stretch my arms.
Shout for directions till my throats hoarse.
Through snaky lanes I wander,
Blink my eyes in the dark.
Feel the silence settle on my skin.
Yet determined, to make my mark.
poem by Dipti Date Gokhale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Through Snaky Lanes I Wander
Through snakey lanes I wander,
Blink my eyes in the dark.
Feel the silence settle on my skin,
And in the distance, hear a dog bark.
Its night I know.
Yet I am surprised,
That the light is nowhere.
It's this darkness I despise.
I glide my bare hands,
Along moist slimy walls.
Trying to find my way out,
Into heavens illuminated halls.
But the farther I walk,
The farther I seem to be.
The hot dank sewage smell,
Tells me, its hell that I see.
I flail my arms,
As far as I can.
Trying to break the vice,
That binds me.
Drags me to where I began.
While I suffer this turmoil,
A stream of water catches my eye.
I watch it flow on the road,
Accommodating the low and the high.
Slowly hope glimmered,
As I learned from the water,
The more you struggle,
Hells fires get hotter.
Go with the flow.
Pain results from intervention.
Let life show you a way.
Sit back, relax, without tension
The water slithered,
On the uneven dank road.
Unperturbed it made its way.
Even the hard road yielded.
The water eroded it away.
Patience is the key,
The light-house of life.
Perseverance is the tool,
To carve out your life.
I suddenly felt free,
To follow my heart.
The hands stopped flailing.
I had found a place to start.
I followed the water,
Like an obedient student.
Chucked my way of living,
Realized it makes sense to be prudent.
But lo behold! the water too,
Lead me to hell's gate.
For running down the slopes,
Unabated, it reached its fate.
The pure stream drowned,
In the ugly drain.
The water lost its identity.
Its purity got a stain.
I don't want to flow,
On a pre destined way,
Only to discover it's an end to my day.
I want to carve.
Be a master of my destiny.
I am not as lifeless,
As the water I now pity.
I flex my muscles.
Try to rediscover my course.
And stretch my arms.
Shout for directions till my throats hoarse.
Through snaky lanes I wander,
Blink my eyes in the dark.
Feel the silence settle on my skin.
Yet determined, to make my mark.
poem by Dipti Date Gokhale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Queen And Country
The wind is on the river and the tide has turned too late,
So we're sailing for another shore where some other ladies wait
To throw us silken whispers: catch us by the anchor chains -
But we all laugh so politely and we sail on just the same
For Queen and Country in the long dying day.
And it's been this way for five long years since we signed our souls away.
We bring back gold and ivory; rings of diamonds; strings of pearls -
Make presents to the government so they can have their social whirl
With Queen and Country in the long dying day.
And it's been this way for five long years since we signed our souls away.
For Queen and Country in the long dying day.
And it's been this way for five long years since we signed our souls away.
They build schools and they build factories
With the spoils of battles won.
And we remain their pretty sailor boys - hold our heads up to the gun
Of Queen and Country in the long dying day.
And it's been this way for five long years since we signed our souls away.
To Queen and Country in the long dying day.
And it's been this way for five long years since we signed our souls away.
To Queen and Country in the long dying day.
And it's been this way for five long years since we signed our souls away
song performed by by Jethro Tull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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