We’re writing a night poem. The shining could be the moon and stars. The armor can be an alcove of trees. The romance is whatever stirs your emotions! Take your words and try to get medieval on us. Or better yet, make us swoon.
MARIE’S NIGHT:
Still If time stood still, would I continue on? Would forward movement cease then to exist? Could sun and moon be viewed from dusk to dawn, And deadlines not be met, yet not be missed? Would falling stars suspend themselves in space, Like frozen fireworks across night’s sky, As lovers fused beneath in warm embrace Would never need to say the word goodbye? Would guarantees be suddenly fulfilled, Or would our contracts be for naught, and nixed? Would all that’s overflowing go un-spilled? Might what was once detaching be affixed? If all that was foreshadowed was foregone As time stood still, would we continue on? © Marie Elena Good, 2021 (The first stanza was taken from a poem I wrote in 2013. I liked that stanza at the time, but not the remainder of that poem. I decided to use it as the first stanza of a sonnet, and use the first line as an echo at the end.)
WALT’S PEACE:
NIGHT FALLS Evening descends like a hushed silence, and tranquility is its marker. Your song is a lilting lullaby in the shadows of the night. There’s no threat of violence as the midnight sky grows much darker. The constellations fill the sky contradicting darkness, bringing light. I see you in silhouette. I see you in whispers. I see you in every moonlit sky. You are the vision this night craves. It saves me from the pain of my wretched soul. It takes its toll. From the moon to the stars, from Venus to Mars, from these hearts of ours. When love calls, night falls. © Walter J Wojtanik
Responses
Bravo!!👏👏👏 What beauty in your words today, Walt and Marie!
Double amen to that.
Thanks Bill
what a delight are your poems Marie and Walt….
Much Appreciated, Mary
Thank you all kindly!
Thank You!
Yes! Just lovely, both of you. Marie, your sonnet is exquisite. Walt, your heart is penned so beautifully here.
Make that two more amens.
Oh what visions are stirred by your poeming, Walt & Marie– Marie, exquisite rhyming that only serves to enhane melody of poem…. Walt, angst and so much there. Wonderful, both.
A compliment of the highest order. Thanks, Pat.
Thank you so much!
Yes, great writing, Walt and Marie!
Thanks Connie
Thank you, Damon
NIGHTTIME ENCOUNTER
It might
be dull and trite
or maybe laced with fright,
but nothing kills it like a bright
night light.
Sweet.
How can only twenty words shine so beautifully? Why, but coming from you, of course
Yup! Gotta keep to the dark to get it. You so wrapped a tight package here.
“Wrapped a tight package.” Yep, perfectly expressed!
true.. but not true… my mother was afraid of the dark, and even with night lights she was still afraid… thus the reason she kept an ax by her bed…
Yes, so much comfort in a nightlight.
I like this one, William!
Still Dark
beneath the Big Dipper
air shimmers
with a dozen owls
whickering from the woods
and from the deep pools
beneath fence line cedars
bull frogs coming alive
until mists move in
layer upon diaphanous layer
erasing everything… muffling
even the stars winking out.
Beautiful. Your words put me there.
I don’t tell you often enough how pleasing your words are to me. You pick the best ones, put them in the right order, paint a perfect picture
thank you both so much– blushing here! Hope you have restful weekend…
Shimmering air, and stars winking out. Love it, Pat!
Almost didn’t catch that I had typed “simmering” air. Yeah. That would be summer here in NW Ohio far too often this year. Ugh.
This is so lovely that I am breathless
This whole poem is diaphanous. Superb.
Excellent word painting, Pat.
“whickering from the woods” – Your use of words is always wonderful, Pat!
AS THE NIGHT GRIEVES
I abhor the day when I do not
set eyes upon your
grace.
I writhe amidst the shadows,
deprived of your
element.
Even night grieves a time,
as daylight takes its
place.
If you are noble red spiced wine;
choice, ageless, I’d be your
sediment.
If I were a royal high goblet,
I’d forever savor—your
taste.
Benjamin Thomas
Age-old romanticism
😁👌
“Set eyes upon your grace.” ❤
😊😁
Lovely and AHHHHH
😁🙏🏽
Breath-taking.
Sounds like something on a scroll in a royal court right out of Shakespeare!
Yes, sounds Shakespearean!
🙏🏽😊
Thank you. 👌
Gentility speaks through these words.
Thanks Sara.
MYRIADS OF BEAUTY
Soft splintered light
descends from on high.
A cloudless sky reveals
myriads of star-flung light.
Its beauty stretches
beyond what the eye can see.
But only manifests itself,
within the high tide of night.
Benjamin Thomas
Once more, you old soul comes to light
Thanks Daniel.
//Soft splintered light// — how wonderfully this seems to encompass for me the shining of the stars…
beautiful.
Yes! And “star-flung light,” and “high tide of night.”
Thanks Pat. The stars are beautiful!
sigh
✨👍
Superb, especially that first line.
👍
You capture it well.
Thanks Connie!
Love the idea of beauty stretching.
😊 👌
Marie, I love your philosophical poem. The questions you pose so well are questions of our exsitance.
Thank you, Mike!
Walt, I enjoyed the twists and turns of your great poem.
I try to change things up, Mike. Thank you!
MEG, my favorite sonneteeress, I will borrow a line from you and say that this is wonderful and so you. I like that you sample from your previous work. It is something doing a lot of recently, finding that editing and adapting makes me prouder of my efforts.
Walt, your “tranquility is its marker” is a brilliant statement, one that I hold I. My heart for you and your well-being
Awww! Thank you, Daniel! What a humbling thing! 🙂
Spoken like a true Brother, Daniel! Thank YOu.
Timeless at Midnight
I can still taste the rain
after it had fallen
as I listen
to spirits in the air.
Leaves rustling
in a gust of wind speak
a language of their own.
Raindrops on windshields
glisten green tears,
but inside I see a couple laugh.
Neon hues
of reds and blues
in the window of a bar
glow dreams.
Tonight there
a bartender and I
hold hands over my drink
while conversations
about sweet nothings
mean everything.
They linger in stillness
at midnight as the day
unfurls into another.
Up the hill lies a cemetery
where headstones
of my aunt and uncle
tell tales of years spent together
as they rise from the ground.
Amazing that something so gently told can be so powerful
Oh my goodness, yes. Yes.
Yes, powerful, well told, and breathtaking.
So many images in this wet, neon glow…. You’ve captured so much. Bravo
For me, this poem is why I love poetry.
this is lovely and I know about spirits at night…
Thanks, everyone.
Captivating, both in imagery and choice of words. .
Yes, I agree!
This is told so beautifully, Mike.
THE NIGHTINGALE’S OPERA
The connubial song of the night
does not impress with gasconade,
but with imperial sweetness of melody.
The male nightingale welcomes sunset;
inherits the covering and dress of nightfall
in a grand stage opera.
Its tranquilizing hospitality of song,
ends a soul of suffering, drys a face of anguish,
until the slow rise of the morning star.
Benjamin Thomas
Love it BT (I had to look up gasconade. Thanx for sharing it)
Thanks Kevin!
I did also… and I love this Benjamin…
Right there with Kevin. This is so poetic, Benjamin. I also had to look up gasconade. Somehow, the word suits the meaning.
Thanks Marie. 👌
I also had to consult a dictionary. Wonderful.
Just learned it recently myself.
Nice one. I had to look up gasconade.
Thanks. I had just learned it myself.
Love that last stanza, and must admit to looking in the dictionary as well!
Thanks Sara. 👌
Potential
In that time the ancients
called the death mist,
others the black sun,
he knows it as
the ‘tween times,
before new day has begun.
He mostly sleeps well,
though frequently turning in place,
recalling the presence of Spirit,
knowing he lives in grace.
Still, ideas spring unbidden,
perhaps prompted by moonlight,
deep meditation not required.
Great rhymes are found, written down,
or lost, no matter how inspired.
It’s the night shift,
poems bathed in shadow,
starlight used to burn
the words in stanzas,
each spinning on its axis,
a muse-ical nocturne.
Poems have always come at night,
though nicely drawn,
they are words in flight,
too often lost, here then gone,
he’s unwilling to rise, bring the light,
as perfect thoughts vanish before the dawn.
//it’s the night shift/poems bathed in shadow// — Gorgeous… so many pillowy images here… and yes, they do vanish come dawn, always a let down as you remember snippets of them throughout the day, for they are always perfectly formed, are they not?!!
So many phrases I’m drawn to in this short, lovely piece. Wonderful, Daniel!
huge smile with this one..
Smiling as I read this. The gentle rhyming is seductive.
I enjoyed reading this.
This is exactly what happens to perfect thoughts.
I love this, Daniel, especially “poems bathed in shadow”
Wow. This is amazing. Somehow I missed this earlier.
Here is one I shared a while ago, but I was tardy to the prompt, and the gate had swung shut I think.
This one is about a young me who confiscates a discarded refrigerator box, and learns an unexpected lesson. Hope you enjoy it.
Elegiac moon</b)
With smoke and groans the truck arrives and coughs a spray of air.
Gloved driver nods; my fathers helps unload the Frigidaire.
A knife tears through its cardboard skin, the ivory beast exposed,
my gazing eyes grow round with hope as I watch the box disposed.
I seize upon that tawny shroud, my body now her contents.
The darkness veils the world around against all sounds and scents.
As eyes adjust, my newfound world in darkness I abide
with all shut out, one tiny hole betrays the world outside.
That speck of light, elegiac moon against the coal black sky
attracts my eye, arrests my soul, forbidding hope to die.
'Twas God who made the two great lights to rule o’er day and night;
to reflect the sun, lieutenant moon, serves as his sole delight.
In lamenting cries night’s prefect calls, “This darkness do not love!”,
“Look through me, see the Son, and everything above.”
Obediently I press my eye up to that opening,
where Glory reigns beyond the dark, revealing everything.
Yes, you did make it in just before the gate closed. I couldn’t even comment on it, nor on other poems there. I was too late.
You KNOW I love this, Kevin. The mix of boyhood adventure, and enlightening discovery are perfectly presented. Love it!
This is a compliment… I have to read more than once they make me ponder a bit… BUt I love the line To reflect the sun, lieutenant moon, severs as his sole delight… LOVE THAT LINE>..
Wow. Love this!
MEG. I loved your rhetorical poetry. This may be my all-time fav MEG poem. Thanx for sharing.
Oh wow! Really? Thank you!!
I agree. One of her best!
THE NIGHT HE DIDN’T KNOW HE WAS
Simply responding to the night
He gallantly jumped on his horse
Tossing away any fright
He followed his heart’s course
He rode away into the darkened sky
Igniting a trail of poetic delight
Never stopping to ask why
He kept his focus and clear sight
A sparked word had caught his eye
His response was immediate
A feeling he couldn’t deny
No way could he fight it
By riding in when he did
At least two stars felt the affection
Nothing less could have disappeared or slid
A starry night’s destined connection
Carving the way to a greater expanse
He wrote on with the inky pen of night
Their hearts opened to one more chance
Allowing love to finally take flight
It’s as if he gathered all the stars
Writing his heart on a cosmic chalkboard
Holding onto Venus, Pluto and Mars
Rearranging light with his exacting sword
Freeing up the limited space through fire
Allowing for a delightful dance for two
A motion full of free-flowing desire
The cosmic harmony would do
By parting the clear night sky
More heart could fill the space
His love didn’t need to work at it or try
He created the moment’s perfect pace
She flew towards him, gently to land
He made sure she’d arrive on time
He somehow knew she’d understand
Like a shared, easy poetic rhyme
Once the star filled night ended
And union was unfurled
All doubt was suspended
As thoughts, words, and energy swirled
Cast aside was a heaviness
A now untethered weight
Happily, they did confess
Love, at that point, cannot wait
A heart that is free
Can take a boundless flight
That’s what these two could see
And feel deeply on this night
It was a night he didn’t know he was
Beyond what he could write
Yet a heart knows what it loves
Under the wings of starlight
(c) Janet Rice Carnahan 2021
I read this one twice, Janet. Enchanting, this! Wow!
Agreed, including the multiple readings.
This is sensational and one of your best. Loved it. 👌
there is s much loveliness in this poem… my words will only detract…
Wow is all I can say to this one, Janet.
Love this, Janet!
This is not a night poem… the armor is what got me , and so before I write a night poem… I am writing an armor poem…
Bullies built my armor
I am a warrior born,
But it was not a mantle
I wanted…
But was within me
To be built.
Teased and laughed at
Made me cringe…
Told to get tough…
Made me build my armor.
Pinches and feet stuck out
To make me fall, and
When I did, I heard the snickers…
My armor got stronger.
Words heard- she’ll never
Amount to anything.
Made me sharpen my ax
To prove them wrong.
One man told me
I was too gentle
For the work ahead of me.
He didn’t know my mettle,
And where I learned
My skills…
Facing down bullies
Instead of making me weak
Made me strong
For
I am a warrior born.
Mary Elizabeth Todd
September 5, 2021
Indeed you are, Mary. Indeed you are. Another great piece of your life, here.
thank you.. and now I am learning to put down my armor… which is a whole different me…
Wonderful! I love it. Had several memorable lines. I can relate to this. 👌
thanks Benjamin….
“Bullies built my armor”…. Wow
thanks
Yes, you are a warrior born!
thanks and I had a mug that I drink my coffee made that says that I am…
Milky Way
N ighttime is the right time to wander
I nto the realm of near total darkness
G etting away from the ambient light
H e carefully gathers all of his favorite
T ools and wanders into the wilderness
P eering into the crystal clear heavens
H e squints to locate his desired target
O n the chart it points to the southeast
T welve midnight it will be the brightest
O h, he has waited so long for this chance
G ood weather and timing came together
R ight as the galaxy peaked in the sky
A mazing the chance that this night will
P rovide for the shot of a lifetime that
H e will surely hang on his wall for
Y ears to come
Very cool! And would love to see that photo!
Masterful
Awesome Earl! One of your best in my opinion.
smile
Well done, Earl!
Memories the night brings to me…
The black lace that trees
Form against the sky
Remind me of a lace slip
I wore when I was young…
The lace cradled my legs
Like the lace of the trees
Cradle the night sky…
I was young then…
And the night beckoned me,
And sometimes broke me,
But I always came back
Until I didn’t.
As the twilight hums of tree frogs,
And the moon navigates across
A slightly different path
Than it had traveled the night before…
Or is it the earth that changes its directions…
I forget, but I remember
I remember those nights
Where I dressed in lace
Beneath a muslin gown
A hidden secret
Gliding across my skin
As the moon glides tonight
Against the darkness
Of the space
It inhabits.
My old skin craves
The nights of my youth, and
It remembers the silk feel
Of nylon clinging to it
On a night filled with sweat…
My skin remembers
What I try to forget…
I sit here remembering
A youth long ago,
And wish I had done
More than throw it away,
But
Knowing that there is no way
I can go back
To recover what I had lost.
The morning light will sweep
With its golden broom
The fragments left of this night,
And I will wake
Greeting its sun
While having another sleepless night
Caressing the memories
Of black lace.
Mary Elizabeth Todd
September 5, 2021
Sensuous and lovely.
Yes
Thank you
Beautiful, Mary. Love it.
thank you
A beauty, Mary!
thank you
THE NIGHT DRESS
The night is silk
upon my skin
Cool and relaxant
without a hiccup
Or hint of friction
fraction of enmity
But delightful as
deliquesced chocolate
Abiding momentarily
pleasing to the palate
Fragrant as scattered
mirthful mint
Light and fresh as breath
captivated by scent
The moon is milk
wet as wintered wine
Titillating perked nerves
calmly possessed
That is worthy of dark silk
of splendid triumphant dress—
of nighttime.
Benjamin Thomas
Interesting that your and Mary’s posted back-to-back. When I read your title, I looked twice to see if I was mistaken, and it was actually another of hers! Beautiful, Benjamin.
Smooth as silk, this.
there is a silky loveliness to this poem
A Night for Knights
Riding an ivory-colored
horse, he gallops
down the path, metal
clinking. She sits
on a smooth stone facing
the other way. Today, she
is sorrowful, lonely.
Maybe that full moon has
altered her mood. She hears
horse hoofs and a clanging
sound. She swirls around,
rubs her eyes. The magic
lamp had worked! Here was
her knight to whisk her
away to a brand new world
on an ivory-colored horse.
This made me smile.
Keep at it!
Splendid! Love this. Wonderful imagery.
Thanks, Benjamin!
This one took me all the way back to a movie from the fifties, about the knights of the Round Table and a song about a berry tree.
Happy remembrances! Thanks, William.
smiling here also…
Thanks, Mary!
THE HEAVENLY COMMISSION
I am an heir-child of the fire of night;
fathered by the borrowed amenities
of the Sun borne—light.
I am a child of the Mother Moon,
of the resplendence of crater,
and the power of catered might.
I am a sibling of the hosts of stars,
twins in beauty sacred composition,
burning brilliance—is our heavenly commission.
Benjamin Thomas
And once again I really amazed by your ability to write such vastly different poems to a single prompt. Such talent!
Amen to this one
Thank you. The
This is star stuff.
Indigo forest
Lovers kiss in the moonlight
Internal music
Ooooh! Lovely!
ooooh yes just lovely
The first word immediately calls to mind Ellington and Bigard’s great tune, although the mood here seems the antithesis of that song. Wonderful word-painting.
Elegantly romantic, Connie!
Beautiful!
Night sky
Penetrating stars shine
Captivating wonder
Stay, play
Camping
Family fun
What form is this, Connie?
Walt’s’ Hadron. Thank you, Marie, for your comments.
big smile
Night Fright
They shut down in the early night
‘Cause to them things weren’t going right
But all had changed by the early dawn’s light
They had won the fight
In the dead of night
(y) Somehow your use of mono rhyme punctuates this.
Agreed
very nice
THE ELDER STATESMEN
There was a certain elder statesmen roving about,
not more than two hundred paces from his house at eventide.
He thought to himself…
“What shall I liken this night to? It is unique in all its beauty,
utterly magnificent and extensive in its effect.
This night is like a wisened spruce of tea, paying obeisance
to the heated vessel of a kettle; wailing in a cascade of puffs
from its manifest train of steam.
Just as the moon rock steeps in the heat of a parade of rays,
overflowing blackness, and the sleep-siren of grays.
So this night is an Earl Grey sea…with a touch and oil
of Bergamot, encompassing me!”
“Yes, that’s it.” He thought to himself as he went
about on his merry way.
Benjamin Thomas
This one fascinates me! Surprise ending that made me grin. Such use of language and image, throughout. Well done!
Indeed so.
this made me smile because I love tea, and have a white tea kettle… these days I love a tea with a touch of lavender in it… thanks made me smile
You’re quite welcome! Glad I could induce a smile!
Some Nights…. Like This One
I am restless tonight.
Somewhere my memory
Is jabbing me
To remember…
I want to look forward,
But the ghosts
I share this house
Are restless also.
I lost a friend…
They know I am sad.
She led a good life.
I am sad but not regretful.
It has been many a day
Since I felt them this close.
After Ma died,
I heard her whisper my name
Just as I fell asleep.
They feel the change
Of seasons in the air…
I feel it
And know change
Is coming to my life.
I am coming to a crossroads.
It will be a choice I make.
No one else can make it.
They know this.
They also know
My choice has been made.
I am restless tonight…
Closing my eyes,
I strain my ears
To hear one of them speak
My name in a whisper,
But I must be still to hear.
The night floats in stillness
Of whispers, and
Silent kisses…
And moonbeams
That float into my room
And onto my floor
Where my shoes I wore
To church lay
Still waiting for me.
It is difficult to be still
Enough to hear
When I am so restless tonight.
Mary Elizabeth Todd
September 5, 2021
Mary, I’m so sorry for your loss. I hope you slept well, in the end. I pray God guides you in your decisions, and opens and closes doors for you to accomplish His best.
Thanks but I did not sleep well… I will miss Mary Castle she was 87 and lived a good life… the week before I told her that when my mother died her comforting words filled a void that my mother had filled. All her family came across the USA to visit her for a week two months ago.
So beautiful, and one of my favorites. I’m often awake at night too, writing poetry. 😊
thank you… I was raised in the mountains… I embrace the ghosts…
Sad, and difficult to bear loss. I wish you a peaceful night’s sleep.
thanks and as the days pass it has gotten better.
Silent
I stand silenced
gazing at the silent stars
as if the night was velvet,
a vast soft black acoustic cloth
on which the lights are scattered
quieted, humbled where they lay.
Then, standing still, I hear
or feel, a thrum,
an undulation,
much like a distant orchestra,
preparing for performance,
the tuning of long strings, wet reeds
and muffled brass vibrating,
while taps so soft upon a timpani
accompany the slow beats of my heart.
The night,
the night!
A gathering of stars
Prepares,
is ready to resound with praise.
A black and velvet curtain
Is about to fall.
I listen, and I hear.
My eyes are ears.
© Damon Dean 2021
Oh, the beauty of this piece! I see, and feel, and hear. Wonderfully poetic!
Thanks Marie.
What a superb paean.
Thanks William…
Wonderful Damon! Love the sense of crescendo in this. Awesome.
Thanks Benjamin…
I agree with Marie… there is much beauty in this poem…
Thank you Mary!
This is magnificent in words and phrasing.
Thanks Sara…
I should be sleeping…
Instead, I am writing this poem
About nothing really
Except it is night,
And sleep has evaded me.
I could step out into the darkness
Of night but the air is muggy,
And it makes me wheeze.
I sit at my computer
Writing this poem
About how long the night seems
When sleep has played
Dodge ball and it is winning.
When the morning comes,
I will be tired,
And will fuss at myself
For having another
Sleepless night.
I make empty promises
That I will
Sleep more
The next night.
It is a game I play…
Sleepless nights
Always win.
This is why you have this poem…
I will now go and tell myself a story…
It has not worked tonight,
But there is always hope
It will…
Good night, and
To some of you- Good morning…
Mary Elizabeth Todd
September 6, 2021
Yes, good morning, as I see this posted on the 6th. I’m sorry sleep evaded you. May God grant energy for the day, and His peace. ❤
thanks and I did finally sleep for about five hours… I have things I need to do for sure.
Good morning Mary. I often do as you when not sleeping. I bet we were both in a muse around the same time.
It appears to be so… I joke that I inherited the night owl gene.. and probably…
COSMIC ANESTHESIA
If I could only languish in a bed of stars.
splash in a bath of regnant brightness.
Allow it to gorgonize the senses,
let it act as cosmic anesthesia.
If I could only follow its ray,
ride its beam and travel the distance;
across the open expanse of heaven’s glitter,
let it swallow me whole and fade away.
Benjamin Thomas
some nights I wish that also…
Just curious: Did you come up with the title first, and then write the poem? Love that title, and that’s what I do sometimes. Or sometimes a phrase will come to me, and I’ll write the poem around that.
I do a little of both, but most of the time the poem comes first. That was the case for this one.
UNDER THE MOONLIGHT
I remember when I was shot,
mortally wounded by your gaze.
Defenseless and awestruck,
under the prowess of your countenance.
In the same vein, I remember
a time of tearful healing.
In that very same moment
of youthful bliss.
I remember your illustrious eyes,
kind kiss, like the weeping willow.
Precious as the value of Pearl,
transparent as an open window.
Into the sight of your soul
I peek—and seek the cryptic eyes of the Sun.
Benjamin Thomas
Benjamin your poems are beautiful and ripe with beauty… just lovely…
😊Thank you. Fun prompt!
Fascinating phrase: “illustrious eyes.”
Yes. I feel like it would make a good song title. 🙂
Lovely writing, Benjamin!
Thanks Marie. 😊 Fun prompt.
Stars Dancing…
I was still weak
From my brush with death, and
Wondering why I was still here.
My nephew said,
Let’s go watch the stars tonight.
I agreed because my heart needed it.
I was in my twenties
The first time I saw
The stars dance.
I remember that night
Created
In the precision
Of fine cut crystal.
In the middle of a dark night,
We slipped out
To go to my hill…
The place I often went
When my soul was in turmoil.
To me it is a holy place…
A place of prayerful silence.
That night it was holy
In the beauty given…
The sky was dark,
And no earthly lights
Marred the skyline.
The stars were placed in patterns
Observed over centuries
Of humans who lived,
And breathed,
And died
Having witnessed
At sometime
The glory of the night’s cloak.
The stars began to dance
Across the sky…
Shooting like an arrow
Shot from the Master Bowman,
And I wondered who
Was casting a wish
On the falling stars.
My prayer that night
Was to simply know
Why I was still here
In this life,
But that prayer
Gave no answer that night
And since that night
The answer
Has been given to me
In bits and pieces,
And I am still waiting.
I understand now
Twenty years later,
I may not ever know
Why I was needed here,
But I know that I am.
That night on my hill
With my nephew
Woke my sleeping soul
To knowing
It was not
That I was still living…
But that I was being
That mattered.
For life is life
When we simply
See ourselves
Not as people
With choices
And rights
And a myriad other things
We think is needed
For us to live
Our days…
Being is releasing
All those things
That clutter our lives…
And in the simplicity
Of watching a night sky…
In the stillness
We are graced
With the cosmos
And knowing
Our being
Is part of that cosmos.
Mary Elizabeth Todd
September 6, 2021
So moving
thanks.. I felt moved as I wrote it…
So many beautiful and moving pieces to this poem.
“I remember that night
Created
In the precision
Of fine cut crystal”
sigh …
There is also much wisdom in these words and in your outlook.
thank you so much… that particular verse was in another place in the poem and I felt it needed to be moved, and when I read in the new place … I knew it was right… I have written many poems and one Christmas card about that night… it was a pivotal moment in my life… such an ordinary moment of watching stars and yet that night my life shifted.
Agree with Marie’s words. Wonderful writing.
thank you and they are wonderful
Beautiful. 👏 Very picturesque. I loved being brought into the imagery.
thank you
THE HEART OF NIGHT AND DAY
Sometimes our heart can be
likened to a knight of coruscating
armor, but no armor is built to endure
the cursed longevity of war.
Eventually blow by blow, it begins
to deteriorate the pride of defenses;
made subject to the repetitive onslaught
of vile arrows meant for destruction.
It is then made vulnerable to the heinous
beasts of the wild, and predatory voracious
fowl that mercilessly feed on death.
Sometimes our heart is an impure alloy,
like the mingling of metals, a contrary
blend of night and day—that constantly
wrestle back and forth without a way, out.
Harboring darkness, it then becomes a heart
of night. A night of forbidden sorrows arisen
from scarred shadows and caverns of pain.
Until it favors an enlivened heart of day
—springing forth with valor, peace and joy.
A day of lasting meadows, fearless armies
of evergreen grasses, wild flowers recklessly
dancing in the plain.
Benjamin Thomas
How beautiful and I so understand this… for though I love the beauty of the night it is also the time that those memories come calling and weaken me and only in the day light am I whole again… thank you sir for this lovely poem
Thanks. You do the same very well in your poems. 😊
thanks…
In The Heat… of the Night…
In the summertime…
The days can be steamy…
When you live in the south…
It is a cradle to the grave thing
All of us born in the south understand…
We might complain about the heat,
But we know it is our bond…
For we all have survived the summers…
But the nights…
Are filed with mosquitoes,
That bite and sting,
And the music of the night
Is the calls of owls,
Or the sound of bugs buzzing
And frogs croaking
And the slaps of people
Being bit by those pesky mosquitoes
Some call the Southern states bird.
The air is so thick with humidity
Especially in the swamps
No wonder the legend of the Lizard Man
Is told lives in the Congaree Swamp.
I went hiking there once…
One hundred mosquitoes bit me,
And nothing but time
Cleared up the pain and itching.
That night the air was murky and sticky.
My night clothes were too much to wear,
And I went out on the porch in the sweltering heat…
Hoping for a breeze bringing the smell of gardenias,
But it didn’t…
My clothes stuck to my skin,
As my body’s sweat sticky
With droplets beading on my forehead…
If I had been home in my forest that night,
I would have had a cold shower and
Ditched the clothes-
Because some nights in the south
When the stars are always there,
But so is the heat…
Clothes seem to be less a necessity
On nights such as that night
In the south the heat that seems
To grow dense
As the sun disappears into the horizon,
And the nights fill with memories
Dense with lost possibilities.
Mary Elizabeth Todd
September 7, 2021
👏 Sounds pretty muggy!
it was and I we waded into water about four feet deep… I am five foot two… it was black and mucky… and my best friend Gracie slipped and went under the water and got poison ivy all over her… I am not allergic to poison ivy… anyway… we were both a mess it was for a college botany class…
Knight in Shining Armor…
I know this man…
He wears an armor of God.
When he rises in the morning
He puts on the belt of truth.
It will hold him in that truth
All the day.
He places the breastplate
Over his heart, and
It is righteousness…
It will protect his heart from harm.
He puts on his shoes
That are made
From the Gospel of Peace
That will take him
Where peace needs to be heard.
He carries a shield of faith
That keeps him protected.
He wears a helmet
That was created
When he accepted salvation.
The Sword of God
Is the Word He has given
To this knight in shining armor…
He seeks moments of quiet
For his prayers…
I am thankful for his prayers.
I am thankful for this man…
And may the Armor of God
Keep him safe.
Mary Elizabeth Todd
September 7, 2021
Amen.
thank you
Lightening at Night…
The storm was brutal.
The dark sky
Became white
For mere seconds
As the lightening struck.
Then thunder shook the windows
And my cat Tillie cuddled close
And made a small mew,
But she has a tiny voice
Of course, it was small.
My big brave moose cat
Who would fight a fire-breathing dragon,
But hides from strangers,
Is a mix of tiger
And frighten kitten.
Each time the sky went white,
And the thunder growled,
She sunk closer to me.
I told her she was safe,
But she thought I was lying.
One storm passed
And then another followed.
I groaned
For I needed sleep.
I groaned
Because a tree might
Be across my long driveway,
And I would be stuck.
Lightening in the daylight
Is not as dramatic, and
Though thunder rolls
It doesn’t seem to boom
As if someone
Set dynamite off in the sky.
At night, the shadows fade
As the lightening hits its mark,
And thunder is a bomb exploding.
Unlike Tillie,
I love storms,
And was tempted to walk
Out into the night
To feel the electricity
Knowing how dangerous
That was, and I am older
And besides Tillie
Needed me to cuddle her.
Mary Elizabeth Todd
September 8, 2021
Very cute in its telling. The cats seem to have intriguing personalities. 👍
thanks and the storm was loud… Tillie is a character…She is a Maine Coon Mix and a huge cat. I got her from a shelter..in 2014. she makes me laugh… and allows me to share her bed her chair…after I got her… she would not go out on the screen porch for years but the last two she likes to go out there… but never in storms…
😀
THE NIGHT’S SYMPHONY
The night is mist upon the shadows.
The shadows weep in synchronous symphony,
its four movements masquerade in cosmic decor;
when beholding sky’s star-strung epiphany.
An ocean of infinite black writhes in its orbit,
sweet hum of dark energy’s bass pounds as gravity.
The planet’s rings stroke as violin strings,
skillfully smooth as finished mahogany.
Woodwinds as cosmic winds soothes the wild.
A mass bassoon of moons agree in harmony.
The brand brass of galaxies bid their ecstasy—
when nature’s crescendo resound in musical orogeny.
Benjamin Thomas
This piece reminds me of a book I read once:
https://www.shopnasa.com/products/jazz-of-physics
Looks like a fascinating book!
simply lovely
Thanks Mary.
THE TAPESTRY OF NIGHT
The night is like an awakening upon the eyes,
when the beauty of the cosmos reveals itself
from a clouded sky.
The revelation of the heavenly host is hidden by day,
masked is its extravagance within an abundance
of light.
When the plethora of distant, age-old foreign rays,
distinguishes itself from the sun borne
flight.
The manifestation of the artist’s bright stars at play,
an extraordinary tapestry is only revealed by
night.
Benjamin Thomas
smile
😊
SOUNDS OF THE NIGHT
The rhythmic sound of tire’s frictional bellowing
against pavement resembles a low howling of wind.
A gathering of unseen crickets fellow hiccuping.
A collective voice of frogs singing hymns of melody.
The resonant encore of nature’s sleeping silence—
pours the presence and testimony of night.
Benjamin Thomas
sigh
Marie and Walt: Your writing is a tough act to follow. Love them both!
❤ Thanks Sara!