Bats of Darkness
As I see the sun
my heart floats like a balloon
I'd hate to admit it
but i'm acting like an idiot
We all know that light will die
as darkness creeps up upon the muddy soil under our feet
As the sun goes down
bats are not sleeping
As dusk weaves itself over our sky
darkness awakes with our bats
Most people think the sun will come back
after we wake the next day, not a fact
Darkness will stay as long as we shall live
and we turn into bats
The winged creatures of the night woke up
from the jolly spirit of the day
Bats shall live forever,
will feast on fruit
The sun is gone and the flowers run away
for without the sun they all die
Do you fear us?
poem by Stephen Black
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Related quotes
Bats
Bats, the lord of the night
Gives anyone a fright
It is a night spy
But really why?
Majestic mammals, I admire
The animal that links with a vampire
A aura of darkness surrounds it
Why do people believe this even a bit?
It has an inner beauty
Which is beyond morality
It is a creation of the grand
Why don't you understand?
An illusion throws people in a quantity
Into the realms between dreams and reality
It is part of the maltreated party
Can't you hear its plea?
Bats, bats, lord of the night
Gives anyone a fright
It is a night spy
But really why?
poem by Shanthosh Suganthan
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Our Secret Sonar Romances
bats are back
their fruit trees in fruit
night feast flight
flit flit flutter flight
fruit passion consumed
in tree dance flight
season past season
come dance our night
under shades of moon
I click my fingers
a few bats flit flight
fly up circle come
fly past my face
a few feet away
flit flight greetings
they like the audience
sonar image my face
thought whisper greet
ink veil night magic
moon crescent night magic
arch phases paint magic
dark building backdrops
stand tall solid frame trees
in background night prayers
silhouette shadow salutes
sky heaven altar glorious
heart stirs in night shades
friend bats flutter flight
disappearing back into trees
feast feed ripe flower fruits
friend bats I know
your ways of disappearing
friend bats I know
your night vision trails
your night vision paths
your night cycle dances
flowers fade into rebirth
organic petal forget me nots
out of sight out of mind
love is bat night flight born
bats my rest break companions
we share night flight visions
this realm of darkness
our mind flight mansions
our secret sonar romances
Dedicated to Miroslava Odalovic who shared a few of my nights with conversation between ritual night writing songs of creativity.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Bats Shadow Fly Feed
treetop height
in dark of night
fruit ripe to bite
bats shadow fly by annual feed
balcony two stories up my whistle lead
back night souls flit spirit mead
in these ink hours soul breathe
in these night whispers soul seethe
in these fruit feasts bats weave
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Echoes Ride The Night
Owls hoot, and bats fly blind,
As darkness fills these lands.
Spookiness, a weird kind
Sets trembling in the hands.
The moon peeps through bleak cloud,
To light earth’s dark domains.
Whistles shriek, screeching loud,
From distant racing trains.
The echoes ride the night,
Troubling our anxious souls.
Then as the skies turn bright,
One’s sanity patrols.
Why is it we feel fear,
When all is inky black.
We’re scared when things aren’t clear,
And nervous of attack.
Bats and owls have no dread,
When daylight fills the miles.
They go to sleep instead,
Inside their domiciles.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Halloween! Halloween!
Ghosts and witches in the sky
Vampires and Draculas in the graves
Bats and fireflies in the air
Zombies and skeletons on the run
Darkness dwells
driven out by light.
Actors in darkness gather
to spread fear on others
Plans for destruction, laid out
in their secret dark domain.
And yet light shines
to reveal the secrets
of death and darkness,
letting the lost Jack
carry a pumpkin of light.
poem by Elizabeth Padillo Olesen
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Bats have no bankers and they do not drink and cannot be arrested and pay no tax and, in general, bats have it made.
quote by John Berryman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Night Bats Play Catch
click I snap
click my fingers
bats fly past
my face a few feet
away bats like
love the audience
scaring them not
teasing them not
minds apart not
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Bat
At evening, sitting on this terrace,
When the sun from the west, beyond Pisa, beyond the mountains of Carrara
Departs, and the world is taken by surprise ...
When the tired flower of Florence is in gloom beneath the glowing
Brown hills surrounding ...
When under the arches of the Ponte Vecchio
A green light enters against stream, flush from the west,
Against the current of obscure Arno ...
Look up, and you see things flying
Between the day and the night;
Swallows with spools of dark thread sewing the shadows together.
A circle swoop, and a quick parabola under the bridge arches
Where light pushes through;
A sudden turning upon itself of a thing in the air.
A dip to the water.
And you think:
'The swallows are flying so late!'
Swallows?
Dark air-life looping
Yet missing the pure loop ...
A twitch, a twitter, an elastic shudder in flight
And serrated wings against the sky,
Like a glove, a black glove thrown up at the light,
And falling back.
Never swallows!
Bats!
The swallows are gone.
At a wavering instant the swallows gave way to bats
By the Ponte Vecchio ...
Changing guard.
Bats, and an uneasy creeping in one's scalp
As the bats swoop overhead!
Flying madly.
Pipistrello!
Black piper on an infinitesimal pipe.
Little lumps that fly in air and have voices indefinite, wildly vindictive;
Wings like bits of umbrella.
Bats!
Creatures that hang themselves up like an old rag, to sleep;
And disgustingly upside down.
Hanging upside down like rows of disgusting old rags
And grinning in their sleep.
Bats!
Not for me!
poem by David Herbert Lawrence
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Darkness Of...
Darkness is not the darkness of night
it is the darkness of mind and soul.
darkness is not the darkness of night,
it is the darkness of discrimination between poor and rich.
darkness is not the darkness of night,
it is the darkness of dishonesty.
darkness is not the darkness of night,
it is the darkness of aggravate.
darkness is not the darkness of night,
it is darkness of corruption.
darkness is not the darkness of night,
it is the darkness of indiscipline.
darkness is not the darkness of night,
it is the darkness of animosity.
darkness is not the darkness of night,
it is the darkness of inveterate.
darkness is not the darkness of night,
it is the darkness of perjury.
darkness is not the darkness of night,
it is the darkness that we all brought up inside us,
so, light the lamp of light inside you...
poem by Suniya Garg
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Hope
an angel a bridge
of heart
Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness
Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness
Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness
Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness
Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness
a light
of humanity tree
I Weave My Cocoon, Only For Own Metamorphosis!
Strangely life looks like a web,
Knitted by Sunlight,
Light of distant stars,
And light Reflected by moon and planets..
I could have survived and cut the web,
but the web is strengthened by more layers,
May be light absorbed and reflected by me,
And bouncing back from my Kiths and kins,
Mosquitoes and bugs,
My own blood relatives,
Sharing my blood or may be I am sharing thiers!
Life is like ground under fruit bearing tree,
Full of smashed fruits by its own fall,
Half eaten, half ripe, may be fully ripen and may be rotten!
Delicious and sweet fruits it bear,
Sometimes by cosmic friends, parrots and bats,
May be monkeys and niebours,
Test me and tease me,
My ability to access the fruits,
They have better nose and eyes than me,
They observe changes faster than me,
They peck or take a bite,
before I can wake up and see,
Birds are better than bats and monkeys,
Birds just eat enough and fly,
Monkeys and bats are horrible,
They taste one, pluck many,
Take to their friends and relatives,
And throw on their path
as a route map to others,
Rotten fruits smell bad,
Flies and mosquitoes,
Flies spread disease, are better,
Mosquitoes spread disease
and feast on my blood too,
Just like juice after meal!
All these knit web around!
All I have that is my own nest,
My own shining shine,
Where I weep, laugh and workout my own plans,
Which becomes my shield,
And what look like shield is my own cocoon,
Where I sleep or meditate,
Only come out completely metamorphing myself,
cutting cocoon With flying colours!
I feelfree now with coloured wings,
Antennae and suckers,
I fly over flowers,
But gather nectar and I help flowers to live fruitful!
But I am innocent
I sing and dance in air,
With my coloured wings
I am a flying flower
Found in garden or in wild!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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The Freedom Of The Cloud
the powerful has no visible arms
but it will always make you feel that you are nothing without it
and if you do not take side, what are you?
a leaf fallen.
a used tissue paper with all the dirt wet with the rain
lost in the mud.
they will say you are a loser because you have never taken side with power
whatever that be
whoever shall it oppress
and it should not have been you if only you have chosen to obey the rules
and just be with them
and play
your mental constitution rebels for it has always been
independent as the wind
that goes in and out of a window
and hovers for no
one.
what do you want to prove? that you are better than the rest?
that you are not corruptible?
these are the questions that hang on the ceiling of your
innocent mind
like bats
they do not have cages
like bats they only live on their free nights
because the days
are prisoners
because the common light
is a yoke
you are alone now and so to live you must sing your songs of
independence to your ears
be light like a cloud and have no mountain as master
hang there for a while and then drift endlessly
is this not freedom?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Late at night
Late at night I hear the trees creek
in the woods and bats swooping down
in the valley, I watch slowly till it
comes to dawn every moment savouring
the beauty of the night turning slowly
drifting until dawn start and the birds
start there song whilst the night goes
to bed and the bats sweep into their warm homes.
poem by Nelly Wilder
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The Sun
The sun has gone down
No fun I only frown
The sky is already brown
Bats flying in the sky
Into the trees I hear their cry
The Night has given darkness a try
No light no love
Silence holds mi with a persistent pry
The sun has gone down
No fun I only frown
The sky is already brown
poem by Khalifa Mustapha
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Only Doing My Small Part to Please
'But...
Why do we have to stop playing the game? '
No one said a thing about you stopping!
'But for our night games,
We can not see without the lights.
People here can not sit without the bleechers.
We need the balls and the bats!
Also the bases.
Have you forgotten that? '
I haven't forgotten anything.
In fact...
When you suggested,
I was nothing but what a dog does.
And it was on the bottom of your shoe...
That you could not get rid of?
I thought I'd do you all a favor,
And go home!
'But why are all of those people,
Taking all of our equipment away? '
Well...
I paid for the bleechers.
And...
Made a deal with the electric company,
To supply the lights.
The balls and bats I got from donations.
And all the people you see leaving...
I sent invitations.
And I made it clear to all of them,
If I should stink that bad...
What is the point of them sticking around,
To see a game played...
When you have announced,
You would rather not have me here!
'Oh?
So it's like that? '
I guess.
I'm only doing my 'small' part to please!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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About The Scissor
yes there was this scissor
on the window
one night looking at the moon
asking if
somewhere it can cut
the darkness
and allow so much light
to pass through
the covered walls
the bats flew feeding on
some rotten star-apples
the moon as usual sitting on the pond
seeing its reflection
undisturbed by the ripples of the fish
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Soul Is The Rock
The soul is the rock and the rock will not be moved
Nothing is disputed, yet nothing is disproved
And the seeds of the earth that were planted long ago
Still yield a better harvest than the rock was prone to grow
Say what you like to, do what you do
Everyones sleeping now two by two
Bats in the roof, cats in the hall
Dust on the stairway, gnats on the wall
Big rain comin
Big rain comin this way
Rain on the rock
Rain on the rock
Rain on the rock
The sea is the space which the rock has displaced
The mind is some stranger that some soul has embraced
And somewhere between, in a no-mans land of dreams
The heart becomes the soldier yet the rock is not redeemed
Say what you like to, do what you can
Live like a sheep, die like a lamb
Bats in the roof, cats in the hall
Dust on the stairway, gnats on the wall
Big rain comin
Big rain comin this way
Rain on the rock
Rain on the rock
Rain on the rock
The soul is the rock and the rock will always roll
In circles round the sun doing rings around the pole
When the mind is not sure what the heart will do next
The rock becomes the master and the road becomes whats left
Late one night when the moon shone down
We went to the mill on the edge of the town
She wore white, I wore black
The town was sleeping when we got back
Big rain comin
Big rain comin this way
Rain on the rock
Rain on the rock
Rain on the rock
The soul is the rock and the rock will not be harmed
Though man must be cheated just as women must be charmed
And the mind is the light for the heart which cannot see
The soul becomes the stranger but the rock will always be
Say what you like to, do what you do
Everyones sleeping now two by two
Bats in the roof, cats in the hall
Dust on the stairway, gnats on the wall
Oh.. big rain comin
Big rain comin this way
Rain on the rock
Rain on the rock
Rain on the rock
The soul is the rock and the rock will not be moved
Nothing is disputed yet nothing is disproved
And the seeds of the earth that were planted long ago
Still yield a better harvest than the rock was prone to grow
And the seeds of the earth that were planted long ago
Still yield a better harvest than the rock was prone to grow
song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Souls Sharing Mystery Nighttime Symphony
it was awake dark late the other night
moon was but a fingernail ribbon of light
all was silent quiet upon the sleeping hills
slight breeze in trees stirs nighttime thrills
from out of our bedroom we did silent creep
at still 2 a.m. or 3 a.m. it's time to shadow peep
I whistle twice thrice into friend dark shadow trees
soon a few familiar shapes flutter about night breeze
my daughters Rachael Kayla silent watch with me
my friends I smile call to introduce daughters to see
these are my season friends at this season call
fruit bats feast this season these trees their mall
in solo stillness of dark or star moon lit night
I whistle call then rapture watch their flutter flight
now as still as still as a shadow can be
my daughters by my side may watch with me
Rachael four cannot silent still wait or watch
words she spills her arm motions darkness cuts a swatch
yet faithful old season friend bat still flies to me greet
in darkness two span distance from my face we meet
nature's wild creatures my heart stirs in innocent delight
even fruit eating binturong greeted my face once in ink night
crossing telephone power cable from bat fruit trees
in cloak ink darkness adult male pause curiosity sees
this nightly poet shaman stand on this balcony ledge
to wondrous creation we share soul mystic pledge
in dead of night binturong two span face distance I meet
our senses one moment we part upon paths spiritual greet
poem by Terence George Craddock
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An Allure Fruits
bats are back
their fruit trees in fruit
forgotten fruit not
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Each to their own..
Across the fields at eventide.
I can hear a choir singing
faintly. As the birds are winging
back to their nests. Now peace abides.
The pipistrelles begin to glide
Across the sky on leathern wings.
From secret places where they hide.
Until the shadows gathering.
Persuade the bats to come outside
The time has come for foraging.
Until they're fully satisfied
with insects taken on the wing.
The soft twilit tranquillity.
Presents an opportunity.
Which men and bats see differently.
I think not unsurprisingly.
Saturday,14 July 2012
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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