Poems about night


№ 1210583

Painted Night

I see your face
Every time I close my eyes
Painting my dreams
The color of your disguise

night,  painted.

Author: Austin Mosher
Date: 07/04/2020

№ 1210518

I walk the night

Im happy in mediocrity
The face that no one sees
The smile that passes by
Forgotten in the blink of an eye

I walk the night, can't stand the light
I walk the night, can't stand the light
When morning comes... you find me gone.

As soon as I've passed their gaze
They don't see me their not phased
I walk between night and day
They just look the other way

I walk the night, can't stand the light
I walk the night, can't stand the light
When morning comes... you find me gone.

When you sleep at night
Turn out the light its me there
The matress dips the shiver hits
You know someones watching you

I walk the night, can't stand the light
I walk the night, can't stand the light
When morning comes... you find me gone.

night,  walk.

Author: Micheal Wolf
Date: 07/04/2020

№ 1210508


It's me again
It's the early hours and I'm slightly drunk
And it's me again

He has the sins of his mind
Which keep him warm inside
Amidst the weary and the wasted
Such warmth keeps him alive

I've always been restless
I hate to move yet I can't sit still
Hours are endless

There is a thrush inside his head
An agony of wings
Panic beaten thrashing
A cage of singing things

Still always anxious
Even though I've slowed right down
This edge is ageless

Laying low and watching
A million sub-plots hatching
Paranoid and paranormal
He scatters to survive

By Phil Roberts

late,  night,  survivor.

Author: phil roberts
Date: 07/04/2020

№ 1210473

Sunday night

The melancholy soaks your heart in an ocean of ice. you
Are drowning but feel no pain, just a
Numbness that spreads to your fingers and toes and
A cold whose depths have no limit. your mind is the
Two-faced mayor of your body, knowing that everything is
All right but
Plunging and holding you under at the same time,
Torturing you only to show that it can.
It knows every beautiful thing in the world but also every
Unflinching horror, and
Pries your eyes open to parade in front of you
A sea of images of utter despair and desperation.
It is like the world's worst propaganda, the most corrupt
Media company ever to have existed. it
Brings you from the pinnacle of your existence, the
Sun-dappled happiest moments of your life, to lying
Fetal and trembling
In the dark
It is an 80-foot monster wave that is the purest
Adrenaline rush you have ever sought, and in a split second, it
Holds you under until you wish you were dead.

You still have air in your lungs, though, and a heart that stubbornly
Refuses to stop pumping and bringing life to your body.
You have legs that remember, and enjoy, the gift of walking, of running,
Skipping, skating.
You have fingers that know how to hit keys on a keyboard, wrists
That can bend to let you write and draw anything that you want.
Your mind isn't everything and you can beat it,
No matter what it tells you.

night,  sunday.

Author: Janet Li
Date: 07/04/2020

№ 1210440

In Night

You just want someone to care,
Because you can't just care about yourself,
You stand up straight, and cover the bleeding wound,
You'll tell anybody anything,
And nobody asks anymore.
You bit your own tail off,
So you can't wag anymore.
You clawed out your own soul,
And denied this reality.
You masturbated in bed,
Refusing to feel pleasure.
Alone, anymore.
It hurts now it hurts,
So numb, so numb.
People are foolish beings,
Forever trying to connect to another dot in the universe,
Forever trying to merge,
To "understand"
When there is no such thing.
You eat your cereal,
And the milk is cold,
But you don't care what your brain says,
Only the demons you mold.
The ones that haunt you,
The ones that chase you,
Oh the ones that keep you in this chair,
Writing about it,
Instead of doing something about it,
The troubles of freedom,
The lies they feed you,
You can't do anything,
Anything at all in this world.
And if you can one day you'll realise,
It was all a lie,
All a dream, a fruitless hope,
You planted in a barren ground,
A deserted womb,
No longer thirsty for your,
Decrepit seeds,
And a lonely boy.
Sitting there in the night.
And you look at him,
If only because no one else will,
And you think to yourself,
Is it the night that surrounds the boy,
Or the boy surrounding the night itself.

Let it flow flow flow,
Like the young waters of old,
But nothing comes of it,
No plants here will grow,
You can see it now,
You can see it when you are dying,
The shadows reflecting off the sunlight,
Are always there, always darker,
Always waiting,
Taking you away,


Author: John Ashton Upston
Date: 07/04/2020

№ 1210176

Night eyes

I wanna hold

Oh these cranberry lips
Left by the mark of yours...

In my ears
And now i can't get that beautiful tone out of my
Cold ears

Felt the hairs on my arms
When your
Finger tips
Oh ohh

Now i felt
The snowflakes
On my veins

Watch my eyes
She walks down
Leafy grove

Can't you...
Feel my rosemary eyes
Curling your toes

Cause your windy legs
Makes me forget
About those...
Wanna dance?
With my arms around your waist
And with my our...
Forheads touching

Let me see your
Night eyes
Lovely you are...
You are...

eyes,  night.

Author: BR
Date: 07/04/2020

№ 1210087

Detritus Of The Drunken Night

Detritus of the drunken night
A cig burn in a cushion cover
A swollen face from your brother
I shouldn't have had that last pint
Your wittering is irritating
This hangover is dehydrating

Blurred thoughts of how we fought
You brought up some other girl
Indignation made my head whirl
T. V. blaring sports, you out of sorts
Outside for a cigarette
Both of us shouting, your eyes wet

The stumbling, bumbling long walk home
Sniping and bickering
Neon lights flickering
Now your face is set like stone
I've got to face your angry brother
And your unforgiving mother

Detritus of the drunken night
My stomach's churning
Your eyes are burning
Like red hot coals, they sting on sight
I'll apologize for what drink's done
Then go down the pub for another one

detritus,  drunken,  night.

Author: Ian Lewis Copestick
Date: 07/04/2020

№ 1210086

My Night With Paul Simon

My Night With Paul Simon

On the night train, the red eye plane,
Flying home to NYCeeeeeeeeeeeee,
From the city of Los Angeleeeeeeez

Feeling flush, dropped some cash,
Got me a seat in extra large first class

Seat 2C, plenty of room for my toes,
To wiggle to dance,
Lay down some poetry tracks,
Pretending I'm a mofo jive,
Bad ass from the
Make-believe west coast

A short guy, with fedora down low,
An older man,
Looking about nine years older
Than somebody I might know,
Hiding his eyes @ 9pm
Neath some excellent Raybans,
Slip slides into 2D,
Gives me a smile,
And says Hi, I'm Paul

I look once at his face and say,
Listen Rhymin' Simon,
I'd know you any place,
No worries, your secret,
With me is safe,
Cause dudes in row 2,
Gottta stick together, be cool,
We're riding first class,
Over the land of the free

What ya do for a living he asks,
A little of this and a little of that,
All of which, ain't no damn good at!
So I spend my cold, hard time
Laying down cold hard verse,
Can't stop, cause it's my daddy's dying curse

He said that's cool,
I like to do that too.
Guitars on planes
Drive passengers insane,
They take up too much
Overhead compartment space,
I just scribble me some rhymes and
Let the music come
When I got two feet
On the ground in the city
We both come from.

Paul: You got any stuff writ
On that yellow sheet,
Or just pretty blue lines,
A big pad of nothing?

Dude: Man you may got diamonds
On the soles of your shoes,
But pay me some 'spect,
You talking to the man who penned
Sad Eyed Teenagers of the Lowland
On Hello Poetry, gad damn!

Paul smiled and said
You can call me Al,
And if you feel like blowing some lines together,
We got five hours till we can see
The house that Ruth built.

Dude: Hit me with your best shot,
I'll show you what I got

Paul: And she said honey take me dancing
But they ended up by sleeping
In a doorway
By the bodegas and the lights on
Upper Broadway
Wearing diamonds on the soles of their shoes

Dude: Just cause the union of the monkeys
In the Bronx Zoo done gone on strike,
Don't mean the lion ain't
Still king of the hill
Inside this New York city jail

Paul: And the sign said,
"The words of the prophets are written
On the subway walls
And tenement halls"
And whispered
In the sounds of silence

Dude: A home-grown poet.
I am, Soul enslaved to words.
The alphabet - My oxygen molecules,
I am both, Addict and dealer
A damned poet Junkie

Paul: You don't need to be coy, Roy
Just listen to me
Hop on the bus, Gus
You don't need to discuss much
Just drop off the key, Lee
And get yourself free

Dude: Contact with the atmosphere
Makes self pity die,
My blue blood turn red,
The TNT tightness in my chest exploded
I got no place to store these words,
The cops think I'm some kind of Terrorist

On and on thru the night,
Riffing, rapping, rambling, and spitting,
Ditties and darts, couplets and barbs,
Single words and elegies,
Free verse and a lot of fking curse words,
It was a moment, a time
That deserved
To be preserved,
And so this poem got writ

*You may think this story apocryphal
Which is another way of saying untrue,
But I got his boarding pass and it is signed,
To this crazy poetry dude, long may you rasp,
And it is signed by Mr. P. Simon, a big fan,
And it has never since that day,
Left my grasp

night,  paul,  simon.

Author: Nat Lipstadt
Date: 07/04/2020