Twilight Princess
Mute strains of light are fleeing.
Dream's kingdom's darkness flight.
The earth, the Heavens are kissing;
Lo, blooms the Omen Rose of Night.
Fair maiden of immortal hour,
Bleeding for a moment in the sky;
Forfeiting aura for Midnight's white flower.
Ode to the tragic Princess of Twilight.
poem by Bianca Diana
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White Orchid
There is a flower that resembles
A flitting moth in fleeting flight
So fair its name has launched an island
To natives' ever new delight
It is a flower that compares with
White doves in panoramic sight
It's purer than fresh snow in winter
Fair inspirations to ignite
There is a flower kings and nobles
Into their palaces invite
To beautify their lavish ballrooms
From breaking dawn to deepest night
As lovely as is the white orchid
I'll never own this bloom outright
Yet as I dream in my small chamber
Faith blooms in ever spreading light.
poem by Liilia Talts Morrison
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In the Midnight Hour
When we meet
in the midnight hour
country girl
I will bring you night flowers
coloured like your eyes
in the moonlight
in the midnight
hour
I remember
Your cold hand
held for a moment among strangers
held for a moment among dripping trees
in the midnight hour
I remember
Your eyes coloured like the autumn landscape
walking down muddy lanes
watching sheep eating yellow roses
walking in city squares in winter rain
kissing in darkened hallways
walking in empty suburban streets
saying goodnight in deserted alleyways
in the midnight hour
Andy Williams singing `We'll keep a Welcome in the
Hillsides' for us
When I meet you at the station
The Beatles singing `We Can Work it Out' with James
Ensor at the harmonium
Rita Hayworth in a nightclub singing `Arcade Mia'
I will send you armadas
of love vast argosies of flowers
in the midnight hour
country girl
when we meet
in the moonlight
midnight
hour
country girl
I will bring you
yellow
white
eyes
bright
moon
light
mid
night
flowers
in the midnight hour.
poem by Adrian Henri
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Princess And The Black Horse(Final Fight-I)
And they decided to start the fight at midnight,
as the wand would work then with brilliant spark.
To unriddle the mystery of dark reign of magician,
they had to kindle the light, to annihilate power dark.
Evening called night, and night sat with blackness,
and darkest became the kingdom of prince's father.
The princess, promised to call him, prince of light,
as dark denotes, night, blackness, evil power, rather.
The King opened a box of story, which told princess,
theirs was the kingdom of Light, full of peace, gay.
It was said, the sun never sets in his happy kingdom.
But, a magician came to that king's court one day.
He played trick of black magic, and covered the sun,
blocking the rays of the sun, he set his own reign.
By his power of witchery, he made the king a lion,
turning queen, to lioness, the prince a horse in chain.
Insidious was he, sold the prince in a witch-fair.
Sordid was his mind, without hesitation he became king.
In the unknown realm the prince as a dark horse,
was bought from the fair, and in king's stable did bring.
poem by Nilakshi Das
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Damask rose
Damask rose how fair your beauty holds the light
How fair your fragrance subdues the fears of night
and how fair your lowly crimson-head
Is with gallantry and passion fed.
In Midnight-oils in sunlit soils
Not a fairer beauty be;
Oh damask rose in flaming clothes
What more beauty could there be...
But in man's hand a maiden fair
with hazelnut brown hair
And roving-limbs that exult like hymns
The answer to a prayer...
poem by Mark Heathcote
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The Song Unknown
It was many a day and many a night
A windswept night ago
When over the tempest-tossed sea rose and swelled
A terrible cry of woe
And one maiden fair sat straight up in her bed
And wept for she knew her lover was dead
It was many a day and many a night
Many a night ago
It was many a day and many a night
A windtorn night ago
When over the balmy sea rose and swelled
A song of mourning low
And one maiden fair wept long and wept loud
For she knew it was her lover who was wrapped in that shroud
It was many a day and many a night
Many a night ago
It was many a day and many a night
A windswept night ago
When over the rolling sea rose and died
A song we shall never know
It is sung by the maiden fair and the stars shining brightly
And her lover who lies in the depths of the sea
It was many a day and many a night
Many a night ago.
poem by Rebecca Walker
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Within The Midnight Hour
In the midnight hours, my heart
breaks, the fog moves in, wraps
it arms around the morning's
longing wake. The gentle dew
falls from the nights moon, within
the loving fog, my heart
blooms.
The midnight stars fading one
by one, falling from the darkness,
until the night is done. Stars
floating within my sea of tears,
midnight awaiting for my
love to appear.
Gripping the cool night, feeling
alone, lost in the misty fog,
my heart looking for a home.
Crying to the Heaven's, my
universe in pain, moon beams
playing melodies upon my
broken heart strings.
In the midnight hour, your
sweet name I call, the galaxy
crying, losing light as it's stars
fall. Alone in the midnight hour,
my heart, the pain consumes,
within the loving fog, my heart
does bloom.
poem by Ruth warren
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Anonymous Plays: XVII
YE TOO, dim watchfires of some darkling hour,
Whose fame forlorn time saves not nor proclaims
For ever, but forgetfulness defames
And darkness and the shadow of death devour,
Lift up ye too your light, put forth your power,
Let the far twilight feel your soft small flames
And smile, albeit night name not even their names,
Ghost by ghost passing, flower blown down on flower:
That sweet-tongued shadow, like a star’s that passed
Singing, and light was from its darkness cast
To paint the face of Painting fair with praise:
And that wherein forefigured smiles the pure
Fraternal face of Wordsworth’s Elidure
Between two child-faced masks of merrier days
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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A May-Day Madrigal
The sun shines fair on Tweedside, the river flowing bright,
Your heart is full of pleasure, your eyes are full of light,
Your cheeks are like the morning, your pearls are like the dew,
Or morning and her dew-drops are like your pearls and you.
Because you are a princess, a princess of the land,
You will not turn your lightsome eyes a moment where I stand,
A poor unnoticed poet, a-making of his rhymes;
But I have found a mistress, more fair a thousand times.
`Tis May, the elfish maiden, the daughter of the Spring,
Upon whose birthday morning the birds delight to sing.
They would not sing one note for you, if you should so command,
Although you are a princess, a princess of the land.
poem by Robert Fuller Murray
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Enigma with Flower
Victory. It has come late, I had not learnt
how to arrive, like the lily, at will,
the white figure, that pierces
the motionless eternity of earth,
pushing at clear, faint, form,
till the hour strikes: that clay,
with a white ray, or a spur of milk.
Shedding of clothing, the thick darkness of soil,
on whose cliff the fair flower advances,
till the flag of its whiteness
defeats the contemptible deep of night,
and, from the motion of light,
spills itself in astonished seed.
poem by Pablo Neruda
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Princess of the night
Princess of the night.
How you travel across the nights sky and passing me by. How I dream to grow a pair of Valiant wings to reach you night princess. Oh how I dream to fly. To take on the world by storm, beside you, where you can see me. How I wish this wasnt just a dream. To talk for an eternity and travel the galaxy far. To have a scene under the radiant stars. Just one moment to be where you are. Oh night princess how you seem so far. You shall forever be in my heart.
poem by Andrue Finley
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Who Is This Mortal
Who is this mortal
Who ventures to-night
To woo an immortal,
Cold, cold the moon's light
For sleep at this portal,
Bold lover of night.
Fair is the mortal
In soft, silken white,
Who seeks an immortal.
Ah, lover of night,
Be warned at the portal,
And save thee in flight!
poem by Ernest Christopher Dowson
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Night Flower
Night flower oh night flower
What fragrance you now give
All the darkness in coming hour
Where shadows of longings live
And dreams are in their dim
Flowing so carelessly here thru
Full of darkness whimsy whim
With every new flow to renew
Night flower in your dim mood
Where love is making its wing
And passion is the hours elude
As its conduit to frontiers sing
Of passion in its ardor making
Like leaves in its wind caress
So much tender of feeling making
In creation of its love fearless
Night flower in dreams beyond
Here shades of the night and flow
Where only its fruits are found
Those give of a gleam its glow
And the moon is its fallen angel
Thru the fairies of dream’s flight
All the wonderful and devotional
That makes such a passion alright
poem by Peter S. Quinn
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The Lotus-Flower
All the heights of the high shores gleam
Red and gold at the sunset hour:
There comes the spell of a magic dream,
And the Harbour seems a lotus-flower;
A blue flower tinted at dawn with gold,
A broad flower blazing with light at noon,
A flower forever with charms to hold
His heart, who sees it by sun or moon.
Its beauty burns like a ceaseless fire,
And tower looks over the top of tower;
For all mute things it would seem, aspire
To catch a glimpse of the lotus-flower.
Men meet its beauty with furrowed face,
And straight the furrows are smoothed away;
They buy and sell in the market-place,
And languor leadens their blood all day.
At night they look on the flower, and lo!
The City passes with all its cares:
They dream no more in its azure glow,
Of gold and silver and stocks and shares.
The Lotus dreams 'neath the dreaming skies,
Its beauty touching with spell divine
The grey old town, till the old town lies
Like one half-drunk with a magic wine.
Star-loved, it breathes at the midnight hour
A sense of peace from its velvet mouth.
Though flowers be fair -- is there any flower
Like this blue flower of the radiant South?
Sun-loved and lit by the moon it yields
A challenge-glory or glow serene,
And men bethink them of jewelled shields,
A turquoise lighting a ground of green.
Fond lovers pacing beside it see
Not death and darkness, but life and light,
And dream no dream of the witchery
The Lotus sheds on the silent night.
Pale watchers weary of watching stars
That fall, and fall, and forever fall,
Tear-worn and troubled with many scars,
They seek the Lotus and end life's thrall.
The spirit spelled by the Lotus swoons,
Its beauty summons the artist mood;
And thus, perchance, in a thousand moons
Its spell shall work in our waiting blood.
Then souls shall shine with an old-time grace,
And sense be wrapped in a golden trance,
And art be crowned in the market-place
With Love and Beauty and fair Romance.
poem by Roderic Quinn
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Little White Rose
Little white rose that I loved, I loved,
Roisin ban, Roisin ban!
Fair my bud as the morning's dawn.
I kissed my beautiful flower to bloom,
My heart grew glad for its rich perfume—
Little white rose that I loved!
Little white rose that I loved grew red,
Roisin rua, Roisin rua!
Passionate tears I wept for you.
Love is more sweet than the world's fame—
I dream you back in my heart the same,
Little white rose that I loved!
Little white rose that I loved grew black,
Roisin duv, Roisin duv!
So I knew not the heart of you.
Lost in the world's alluring fire,
I cry in the night for my heart's desire,
Little white rose that I loved!
poem by Dora Sigerson Shorter
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Kate Kearney
WHY doth the maiden turn away
From voice so sweet, and words so dear?
Why doth the maiden turn away
When love and flattery woo her ear?
And rarely that enchanted twain
Whisper in woman's ear in vain.
Why doth the maiden leave the hall?
No face is fair as hers is fair,
No step has such a fairy fall,
No azure eyes like hers are there.
The maiden seeks her lonely bower,
Although her father's guests are met;
She knows it is the midnight hour,
She knows the first pale star is set,
And now the silver moon-beams wake
The spirits of the haunted Lake.
The waves take rainbow hues, and now
The shining train are gliding by,
Their chieftain lifts his glorious brow,
The maiden meets his lingering eye.
The glittering shapes melt into night;
Another look, their chief is gone,
And chill and gray comes morning's light,
And clear and cold the Lake flows on;
Close, close the casement, not for sleep,
Over such visions eyes but weep.
How many share such destiny,
How many, lured by fancy's beam,
Ask the impossible to be,
And pine, the victims of a dream.
poem by Letitia Elizabeth Landon
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Love That Won't Last
when i tell you that i love you
please do not
ask something that lasts
forever
for i am a man
simply a man
and i am
not
immortal
my love lasts
while i last
i last only for a moment
like a flower
that blooms today
and then
tonight is blown away
by the slightest
touch of
this
divine sigh
do not see me as a bud
of this
flower that in your mind
blooms and will last
forever
i am man i am mortal
at any time i may die.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Flower Image
Went up directly to my garden
To meet the beautiful maiden
I saw a wonderful flower
Shock me with aura of power
Want to take it as a decoration
All I want for my satisfaction
Flowers with assorted colors
Fill me, with force
Suddenly in mysterious flower
Moved a dream refresher
Flower flew on the sky
Was a butterfly
poem by Darlric John Lotik
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Flower Image
Went up directly to my garden
To meet the beautiful maiden
I saw a wonderful flower
Shock me with aura of power
Want to take it as a decoration
All I want for my satisfaction
Flowers with assorted colors
Fill me, with force
Suddenly in mysterious flower
Moved a dream refresher
Flower flew on the sky
Was a butterfly
poem by Darlric John Lotik
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They Have Found Each Other
Mute they wander,
Meeting yonder,
In the wondrous Spring new-born,
That though old as Time's first morn,
Brings fresh youth to all the living,
Now held fast, now far retreating,
But through hearts in oneness beating
Ever fullest bloom is giving.
Mute they wander. E'en the eye
Speaks no thought. For from on high
To their souls sweet strains have spoken
From the wide world's harmony,
Born of light, the darkness broken,
In the dawn of things to be.
Power crowned-
Earth around
Like a sun-song rolled the sound.
Mute they wander. Sweet strains ending-
Eye nor tongue dares yet the lending
Speech to thought.
But lo! quick blending,
All things speak! They sound and shimmer,
Bloom in fragrance, ring and glimmer,
Tint and tone combining, nearer,
Meet as one-with all their thinking
In one beauty, higher, clearer,-
Heaven itself to earth is sinking.
But in this great hour of trysting
Life is opened, its course brightened,
Growth eternal calls, enlisting
Every spirit-power heightened.
poem by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson
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This Poem Is For You, ... Forget Me?
you have that rose tattoo
on your arm
there is a bleeding heart on the
side
and when we bathe in the sea
the sun shines there
and i imagine how things bleed
and heal
and get immortalized somehow
on your tattoo of
love and hate and devotion and then
gone for good
you like to retain somehow the lessons
of the pain
the memories of the ecstasy
and the moment
of final separation
i told you last night when we made love
i don't keep memories
i let them drip like a rain in the gutter and they
are kept
better be
in the canals buried deep inside the earth
i like to grow and touch the sun
i am this flower that blooms only once and then die
i don't have a tattoo
i know what i am, i just pass by like a hush, like a sigh.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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