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A Midnight Song III (A Sonnet)

A spell of Monsoon and a whisper of chill are her entire orchestra
A trickle of rain and a mild gust are more than enough reason to begin a ballad
She composes a rhythm of desire which wells up from deep within
Her voice rings through the barricade and calls out to me
My windowsill rattles with urge and my door hinges creak with expectancy
My entire abode is eager to welcome the sweet music that rings through the frigid night air
My soul is no less fondled by her whispered songs than by the sensual lips from which they pour forth
When the waiting doors part urgently on the stroke of midnight, they usher in the queen of the night
The goddess of midnight whose praise is neither the sole delight of my mouth nor the exclusive prerogative of my heart
My entire being glories in her lyrical prowess when her voice is but a breath away
Now, she strides regally to her waiting audience and waves her magic all around
Goodness! The clouds in the highest heavens despair with envy at the sight of her charm!
Euphoria come and gone; bliss in place of bliss; desire, weak and worn
My enigmatic guest floats away on dawn’s breeze and leaves me with the sweet treasure of a thrilling midnight song

poem by Rafael Yaw Kumi
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A Midnight Song II (A Sonnet)

There is no better place to sing this song
There are no sweeter words than these
A pitch so tempting can only be sung in the highest heavens
A romance this alluring can only be felt at the teasing touch of my melody
What song is this that demands so much from me?
What words! They spell symphonies on my lips with every kiss
When night abandons my body to chill’s drape and frost’s rape,
Her sweet song warms my ears and the drumbeat of her heart thuds in unison with mine
Her body rains a thirsty torrent when she hits such feverish notes!
See how she glistens with curious stars come out to listen to her sing
At midnight’s peaceful hour, we sing together the gentle song of love
The melodies of passion and searching desire ring loudest when two souls become one
Now the air is thick with the gratified breath of a thrilled audience and the aroma of expended ecstasy
The tender memory of her song I will guard imprisoned in my heart while I eagerly await the thrill of yet another midnight song

poem by Rafael Yaw Kumi
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A Midnight Caller

The sound of Dakota by Stereophonics,
The periodic sound of my ringtone,
In that moment sub-conciousness,
There goes the midnight caller,
Like a phantom she whispers soft words,
Like a baby I concentrate unto her,
She tells me she couldnt sleep,
Only my voice could rescue her,
Jailed in her iron cell,
Of solitude in a lonely night,
She is a midnight caller

Her voice so penetrative like winter winds,
Sending an impulse down to my toes,
My night is changed for the better,
Like she is right there with me,
My pillow knnows her voice,
So does my linen sheets,
In the silence of the dark nights,
Stereophonics, Dakota plays again,
Goodnight wishes again and again,
She is a midnight caller

Midnight, my seasonal best friend,
Only in need not in deed,
Approach faster, I have fallen in love,
Starring at my fone waiting for your call
To regain hope lost in the morning,
To revitalise moral lost in the afternoon,
Winning what I lost during sunset,
Your words like a bundle of joy
She id a midnight caller

She knows the most perfect time,
When muscles are relaxed, perfectly,
When the brain is at ease,
Who taught her such,
She got it better than everyone,
Bright enough to shine my night,
Dont hold the phone on me,
My ear hungers for you sweet one,
Oh my, she is a midnight caller

Its like a new world in my bed,
My room a fantasyland,
Your words turn the lights on,
They kiss away the fright,
And certainly they turn me on,
Your last words,
Two big tears rolling down my cheeks
She steals my heart by night,
Waiting upon her call,
Dakota, please play along,
She makes my night,
She is a midnight caller

poem by Gaylord Munemo
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Song (Untitled #6)

The flower unfolds its dawning cup,
And the young sun drinks the star-dews up,
At eve it droops with the bliss of day,
And dreams in the midnight far away.

So am I in thy sole, sweet glance
Pressed with a weight of utterance;
Lovingly all my leaves unfold,
And gleam to the beams of thirsty gold.

At eve I droop, for then the swell
Of feeling falters forth farewell; -
At midnight I am dreaming deep,
Of what has been, in blissful sleep.

When-ah! when will love's own fight
Wed me alike thro' day and night,
When will the stars with their linking charms
Wake us in each other's arms?

poem by George Meredith
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Me And The Moon At Midnight

I awoke at midnight,
and saw the ray of moon,
was touching my forehead,
with its gentle light.
The window was open,
and I stood beside it.
The cool breeze caught
and held my hand,
mesmerized I reached
to the terrace.
The moon at midnight,
and I thus met
face to face....
The trees, the plants
and oh! the houses
around took silver hue.
The stillness, the
melted silver from
the night's one
source inundated the
entire objects to the
loneliness.....
No sound around,
No clamor,
No care,
Only there,
Me and the midnight
Moon to share,
the serenity
of the night,
the borrowed
sunlight...
Me and the....

poem by Nilakshi Das
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Magic Man

In the early hours of eve
As his lips lay kisses upon the night
While he 'tis dancing with me
The Moon and the Stars take flight

A mighty caress of thunder's tear drops
Begin to cascade from clouds so high
There is this voice that whispers
Yet so deep it fills the sky

'Tis a sacred moment this
When the Magic Man* raises his head
All visions of power and wonder
Are taken in by the master and fed

Through the rhapsody of sheer longing
Veiled in visions that hold whats true
Your voice and magnetic eyes do claim me
My entire soul and life they belong to you

Through the dark of night to the sunshine
And rain of the days
You will always be my knight in shining armor
Because of your most loving ways

poem by Theodora Onken
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Song in the Night

Born from the shadow of a breath
We wander in abandonment
And are lost in the eternal,
Like victims ignorant wherefore they are consecrated.

Like beggars nothing is our own,
We fools at the locked gate.
As blind people we listen in the silence,
In which our whisper is lost.

We are the wanderers without destinations,
The clouds which the wind blows away,
The flowers shaking in death's coolness,
Which wait, until one mows them down.
II

So that the last torment becomes complete with me,
I do not defend you, you hostile dark powers.
You are the road to great stillness,
Upon which we stride in the coolest nights.

Your breath makes me burn louder,
Patience! The star dies down, the dreams glide
In those realms not named to us,
And which we may only walk along dreamlessly.
III

You dark night, you dark heart,
Who mirrors your holiest ground,
And your malice's last abysses?
The mask stares before our pain -

Before our pain, before our lust
The empty mask's stony laughter,
On it the earthen things broke,
And ourselves not deliberately.

And a strange enemy stands before us,
Who jeers, about which we struggle dying,
So that our songs sound cloudier
And what weeps in us remains dark.
IV

You are the wine that makes drunk,
Now I bleed in sweet dances
And must wreath my suffering with flowers!
So your deepest mind wills, o night!

I am the harp in your womb,
Now your dark song struggles
For the last pains in my heart
And makes me eternal, unreal.
V

Deep rest - o deep rest!
No devout bell rings,
You sweet mother of pain -
Your death-widened peace.

Close all wounds
With your cool, good hands -
So that inward they bleed to death -
Sweet mother of pain - you!
VI

O let my silence be your song!
What should the poor's whisper be to you,
Who is separated from life's gardens?
Let you be nameless in me -

Who is dreamlesslybuilt up in me ,
Like a bell without tone,
Like my pain's sweet bride
And the drunken poppy of my sleepings.
VII

I heard flowers die in the ground
And the wells' drunken lament
And a song from the bell's mouth,
Night, and a whispered question;
And a heart - o death-wound,
Beyond its poor days.
VIII

The darkness extinguished me in silence,
I became a dead shadow in the day -
Then I stepped from the house of joy
Outside in the night.

Now a silence dwells in my heart,
That does not feel the dreary day -
And smiles up to you like thorns,
Night - forever and ever!
IX

O night, you mute gate before my suffering,
See this dark stigmata bleeding to death
And completely inclined the staggering chalice of agony!
O night, I am ready!

O night, you garden of oblivion
Around my poverty's closed-to-the-world shine,
The wine leaves wilt, the wreath of thorns wilts.
O come, you grand time!
X

My demon once laughed,
When I was a light in gleaming gardens,
And play and dance were my companions
And the wine of love, which makes drunk.

My demon once wept,
When I was a light in painful gardens
And humility was my companion,
Whose radiance shines on poverty's house.

However, now my demon neither weeps nor laughs,
I am a shadow of lost gardens
And my death-dark companion is
The silence of the empty midnight.
XI

My poor smile which struggled for you,
My sobbing song faded away in darkness.
Now my path comes to an end.

Let me tread in your cathedral
Like once, a fool, simple minded, devoutly,
And stand adoring mutely before you.
XII

You are in deep midnight
A dead shore at the silent sea,
A dead shore: Never more!
You are in deep midnight.

You are in deep midnight
The heaven in which you glowed as a star,
A heaven from which no more God blossoms.
You are in deep midnight.

You are in deep midnight
An unbegotten in sweet womb,
And never existing, unreal!
You are in deep midnight.

poem by Georg Trakl
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It's Love! Magic!

Is It Magic?

I know not why I love.
Have you cast your spell of magic,
that makes this so?

I have taken to notice, the magic
that is life. Is that you? Is it
your magic that makes me so aware?

You are part of my entire being.
Is this also, your magic at work?

There's a song in my heart, and a
spring in my step. Is it magic?
Is it love? Magic? Love? Both?

When apart I feel a loss. Is
it your magic, that compels me
to miss you so?

The Magic of your kiss. The Magic of
your voice. The Magic of your touch.
If it is magic, I am completely
and willing, under your spell.

Can I live but a day, without the
love of your magic? No. Not
a day, or a minute, or one second
for all eternity.

I have never felt this way before.
Nor will I ever again, without
the cloak of your magic.

You are, and always will be,
My Magic Lady.

Yes...yes, most will say it is
love. Love perhaps.
Magic? Definitely.

poem by Joe Fazio
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You Have Cast Your Spell...