The Moth
Isled in the midnight air,
Musked with the dark's faint bloom,
Out into glooming and secret haunts
The flame cries, 'Come!'
Lovely in dye and fan,
A-tremble in shimmering grace,
A moth from her winter swoon
Uplifts her face:
Stares from her glamorous eyes;
Wafts her on plumes like mist;
In ecstasy swirls and sways
To her strange tryst.
poem by Walter de la Mare
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Related quotes
A Baby Talks To A Stranger
In a hot summer day
Diary of A Worm is on display
Kids are chitterling-chattering along the way
They only want Lego to play
A woman in a purple-flower dress stands
A baby who has no shorts on stares
The baby stares at the woman standing amid chairs
The woman makes a face
The baby catches the trace
Having no idea of the baby's play
The baby's mother turns the baby's face away
The baby cries in pain
His struggles remain
Till he sees the woman in purple again
'WOO BA LA'
'BA WOO AH'
The baby talks loudly and happily
The sound bites
are just as lovely as
the shimmering lights
in the baby's eyes
poem by Cathy Shao
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With Us
Depression
swirls in clouds of blue and gray
binging tears of silence.
Depression
swirls in churning waves
of murky greens and blues
bringing tides of nothing new
and hoplessness blooms.
Depression
sways in feilds of schorched brown
and trampled greens
bringing no tall dreams.
Depression
swirls and sways
in sun and shade
its with us every second of every day
in place theres no getting away.
poem by Chantel Weston
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Nearer to Me Than A Moontide Swoon
Nearer to me than a moontide swoon,
And dearer to me than a dream.
She is fairer to me than a spring's full bloom;
Nearer to me than a moontide swoon.
The winds of dark winter may howl soon
And still could not chill her bright sunny beam;
Nearer to me than a moontide swoon,
And dearer to me than a dream.
-2005
poem by David Zvekic
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The Bloom is not a Bloom
Bloom not bloom
mist not mist
Night half come
heaven bright go
Come like spring dream how long time?
Go like morning cloud not find place The bloom is not a bloom,
The mist not mist.
At midnight she comes,
And goes again at dawn.
She comes like a spring dream -
how long will she stay?
She goes like morning cloud, without a trace.
Dyes Cast
Each night
As he drops his head
To the deep dream
Of the dark bed,
A shape beckons him
Wellaway
From the starlight
And the dim day.
A mare
Black as a spade, calls
From the dark hill
As the wind falls,
The reeds mutter
The night is black
As he leaps blind
To the mare’s back.
Then like the roar
Of an ill wind
Or a black flame
From the devil’s kiln,
The mare speeds
To the night’s work
By the old mill
And the dark Kirk.
Shapes flutter
And leap alight
Before they sputter
And, out of sight
Disport and mutter
Of black arts
To see the mare
And the rider pass.
Hour on hour
He clings to scenes
Of dark images,
Wild dreams
And chance friends
From the dead past
In the grim haunts
Of dyes cast.
His face burns
And tears stream
In the long night
Of the dark dream,
He clings grim
To the mare’s back
For his soul’s sake
And a long lack.
The day brinks
At night’s mist;
‘There may be nothing
More than this, ’
The mare fades
From his wide eyes –
But the thoughts bide,
And the old lies.
‘There may be nothing
More than this! ’
And his mind seeks
The mare, the mist;
‘There may be nought
But the dead past,
And the dark haunts
Of dyes cast.’
27 December 1978
poem by David Lewis Paget
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Dark night...
So dark is the night by choice
Silenced of humorous voice,
So lonely is the night of charms
Devoid of a lover's warm arms.
Dark shadows rising upward bound
Above me from the silent ground
Destroying my inner secret dreams
Waking to the sounds of inner screams
Dark shadows rising here to stay
Even after they're casted away
They come back with violence
At the depth of dead silence
Dark shadows rising unkind
causing chaos across my mind
I cant stand, my painful cries
As the dark night arrives
Dark shadows rising knocking me flat
Paralysing me purposefully so that
I can't move and nobody cares
The dark night blindly stares
Dark shadows dying away to fly
Over the dark coloured sky
No more shadows flying around
Remembering my dreams abound
As the heavenly glowing stars swoon
Circling around the glittering moon
Radiating above in the sky like mothers
Amongst the ashen white, I saw serenity's colours
poem by Deep Dark Soul Poet
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Darknlovely
There is a place
On hearts motherland
Where a people
Die in bantu stands
Manchild at eight
Will face guns of hate
Womanchilds fate
Is life second rate
Just because theyre dark n lovely
Just because theyre dark n lovely
They do a dance
Called mbaqana jive
Rainbow people
Dancin to stay alive
After hours
Party hand in hand
After shebeen
Terror strikes again
Just because theyre dark n lovely
Just because theyre dark n lovely
Just because theyre dark n lovely
Dark n lovely
The whole planets watchin
And the sun God is watchin, too
Hey there botha
Yes, we are watcin you
Spirits can do
Jah will stop this reign
Watch our world turn
To help those in pain
Just because theyre dark n lovely
Just because theyre dark n lovely
Just because theyre dark n lovely
Just because theyre dark n lovely
Dark n lovely dark n lovely
song performed by by Stevie Wonder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Widow
Grief hath pacified her face;
Even hope might share so still a place;
Yet, on the silence of her heart,
Haply, if a strange footfall start,
Or a chance word of ecstasy
Cry through dim cloistered memory,
Into her eyes her soul will steal
To gaze into the irrevocable --
As if death had not power to keep
One who has loved her long asleep.
Now all things lovely she looks on
Seem lovely in oblivion;
And all things mute what shall not be
Richer than any melody.
Her narrow hands, like birds that make
A nest for some old instinct's sake,
Have hollowed a refuge for her face --
A narrow and a quiet place --
Where, far from the world's light, she may
See clearer what is passed away.
And only little children know
Through what dark gates her smile may go.
poem by Walter de la Mare
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She Cries
I know how to read alone
Here in the dark some old stories are told.
The telephone haunts me
Like a picture of things that Id never
Bring home.
Chorus:
She cries like I do
Too late for new words.
She cries like I do
? ? ? ? its a man.
No-one is allowed in here
Im the ? ? ? ? ? new feelings ? ? ?
This edge in my voice lacks? sense
I never touched your heart
I suppose.
(repeat chorus)
She cries like I do
Like were supposed to
She cries like I do
Here in the dark.
Im so surprised.
song performed by by Gary Numan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Immortal
BEAUTY is still immortal in our eyes;
When sways no more the spirit-haunted reed,
When the wild grape shall build
No more her canopies,
When blows no more the moon-gray thistle seed,
When the last bell has lulled the white flocks home,
When the last eve has stilled
The wandering wing and touched the dying foam,
When the last moon burns low, and, spark by spark,
The little worlds die out along the dark,–
Beauty that rosed the moth-wing, touched the land
With clover-horns and delicate faint flowers,
Beauty that bade the showers
Beat on the violet's face,
Shall hold the eternal heavens within their place
And hear new stars come singing from God's hand.
poem by Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall
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I mock when others do.
Earning was glamorous; I laboured.
Spending was glamorous; I idled away.
Losing was glamorous; I gambled.
Loving was glamorous; I pursued.
Leaving was glamorous; I pined.
Each one of them is mocked at
By those when they aren’t involved..
08.06.2007
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The Wattle Tree
Winter is not yet gone - but now
The birds are carolling from the bough.
And the mist has rolled away
Leaving more beautiful the day.
The sun is out - O come with me
To look upon the wattle tree!
Let misers hoard and hide their gold;
Here there is treasure-trove untold,
In yellow blossom, mass on mass
Spread out for wayfarers who pass
With hearts to feel, and eyes to see
How lovely is the wattle tree.
O strange, O magical! to forget
For a moment care and fret,
Whilst the next spirit, like a cup
Drained of delight, again fills up
And overflows with ecstasy
Before the miracle of the tree.
And rich and poor, who pause to bless
The shining tree in thankfulness,
Are bound in fellowship indeed.
What matter politics or creed,
Or class or colour? surely he
Loves mankind who loves a Tree!
Towards illimitable skies
From the earth the trees arise:
Givers of Joy, their gold and green
Against the blue of Heaven is seen.
A symbol of man's destiny
Is the blossoming the wattle tree.
Winter is not yet gone - but now
The birds are carolling from the bough.
And the mist has rolled away
Leaving more beautiful the day.
The sun is out - O come with me
To look upon the wattle tree!
poem by Dora Wilcox
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To Have And Not To Hold
To have and not to hold
So hot yet so cold
My heart is in your hand
And yet you never stand
Close enough for me
to have my way
To love but not to keep
To laugh not to weep
Your eyes they go right through
And yet you never do
Anything to make me want to stay
Like a moth to a flame
Only I am to blame
Ba ba da ba ba ba
What can I do
Ba ba da ba ba ba
I go straight to you
Ba ba da ba ba ba
I've been told
You're to have
Not to hold
To look but not to see
To kiss but never be
The object of your desire
I'm walking on a wire
And there's no one at all
To break my fall
Like a moth to a flame
Only I am to blame
Ba ba da ba ba ba
What can I do
Ba ba da ba ba ba
I go straight to you
Ba ba da ba ba ba
I've been told
You're to have
Not to hold
You're to have not to hold
You're to have not to hold
Like a moth to a flame
Only I am to blame
Ba ba da ba ba ba
What can I do
Ba ba da ba ba ba
I go straight to you
Ba ba da ba ba ba
I've been told
You're to have
Not to hold
You're to have not to hold
You're to have not to hold
You're to have not to hold
song performed by by Madonna
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In the depths of your lovely sunny eyes (sonnet)
In the depths of your lovely sunny eyes
at times I see pain and sometimes joy
and there's a strange kind of grace
when they twinkle like stars in the skies
and the usual feelings between a girl and boy
seems small against what I see on your face,
from the message in your smiles and cries
and it's as nothing can destroy,
our love, our commitment, as if no menace
or whatever anyone tries,
or any kind of evil trapping ploy
can act against us while we do still embrace
and the feelings that we do possess, seems divine
as if it's God's will for you to be forever mine.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Evening
WHEN the white iris folds the drowsing bee,
When the first cricket wakes
The fairy hosts of his enchanted brakes,
When the dark moth has sought the lilac tree,
And the young stars, like jasmine of the skies,
Are opening on the silence, Lord, there lies
Dew on Thy rose and dream upon mine eyes.
Lovely the day, when life is robed in splendour,
Walking the ways of God and strong with wine,
But the pale eve is wonderful and tender,
And night is more divine.
Fold my faint olives from their shimmering plain,
O shadow of sweet darkness fringed with rain.
Give me to night again.
Give me to day no more. I have bethought me
Silence is more than laughter, sleep than tears.
Sleep like a lover faithfully hath sought me
Down the enduring years.
Where stray the first white fatlings of the fold,
Where the Lent-lily droops her earlier gold
Sleep waits me as of old.
Grant me sweet sleep, for light is unavailing
When patient eyes grow weary of the day.
Young lambs creep close and tender wings are failing,
And I grow tired as they.
Light as the long wave leaves the lonely shore,
Our boughs have lost the bloom that morning bore.
Give me to day no more.
poem by Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall
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The moth hound
Of a coon hound
you have heard
there's plenty around
i have found
a very strange dog
who's nothing, but a moth hound
when ever, you see
he sees a moth near by
the moth trys to flee,
it isn't no match
as my dog goes after the moth,
and makes a wonderful catch
he eats it all the way
and chews and swallows
he looks at me, now he wants to play
How a Little Girl Sang
Ah, she was music in herself,
A symphony of joyousness.
She sang, she sang from finger tips,
From every tremble of her dress.
I saw sweet haunting harmony,
An ecstasy, an ecstasy,
In that strange curling of her lips,
That happy curling of her lips.
And quivering with melody
Those eyes I saw, that tossing head.
And so I saw what music was,
Tho' still accursed with ears of lead.
poem by Vachel Lindsay
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Serenade
DARK is the iris meadow,
Dark is the ivory tower,
And lightly the young moth's shadow
Sleeps on the passion-flower.
Gone are our day's red roses.
So lovely and lost and few,
But the first star uncloses
A silver bud in the blue.
Night, and a flame in the embers
Where the seal of the years was set,–
When the almond-bough remembers
How shall my heart forget ?
poem by Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall
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Winters
Winters days are gray
And cold in their way.
A mystery Mist
Swirls gently with a twist
Threading its way
Threw the shadows of day
Winter is no longer kept at bay.
Winters winds whistle
And bend a dying thistle.
Clouds of grey race
As they chase
Across the winter scene
Winter is cold and mean
As can be seen.
By K. J. Stoker
poem by Katie Stoker
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Fire-Caught
The gold moth did not love him
So, gorgeous, she flew away.
But the gray moth circled the flame
Until the break of day.
And then, with wings like a dead desire,
She fell, fire-caught, into the flame.
poem by Langston Hughes
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