Night poems from famous poets and best beautiful poems to feel good. Best night poems ever written. Read all poems about night.
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
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I was angry with my friend:
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe:
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As soon as Fred gets out of bed,
his underwear goes on his head.
His mother laughs, 'Don't put it there,
a head's no place for underwear! '
...
Good-night? ah! no; the hour is ill
Which severs those it should unite;
Let us remain together still,
Then it will be good night.
...
My tea is nearly ready and the sun has left the sky.
It's time to take the window to see Leerie going by;
For every night at teatime and before you take your seat,
With lantern and with ladder he comes posting up the street.
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Oh I have sown my love so wide
That he will find it everywhere;
It will awake him in the night,
It will enfold him in the air.
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Celebrate our anniversary - can't you see
tonight the snowy night of our first winter
comes back again in every road and tree -
that winter night of diamantine splendour.
...
Warm summer sun,
Shine kindly here,
Warm southern wind,
Blow softly here.
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long walk at night
the breeze freezes my spirit
the moon warms it up
pulling at my poetic soul
...
Fall, leaves, fall; die, flowers, away;
Lengthen night and shorten day;
Every leaf speaks bliss to me
Fluttering from the autumn tree.
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I hear the halting footsteps of a lass
In Negro Harlem when the night lets fall
Its veil. I see the shapes of girls who pass
To bend and barter at desire's call.
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Ancient night and the unruly salt
beat at the walls of my house.
The shadow is all one, the sky
throbs now along with the ocean,
...
Dark clouds run to cover sun's face,
With sparkling lights to join the race,
Descending on earth with malign intent,
Fear, destruction all with dreaded content,
...
The noon's greygolden meshes make
All night a veil,
The shorelamps in the sleeping lake
Laburnum tendrils trail.
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Night-night moon
Night-night stars
Night-night noisy
trucks and cars.
...
'Oh, dear with best thighs, heart-stealing is this environ with abundantly grown stacks of rice and their cobs, or with sugarcane, and it is reverberated with the screeches of ruddy gees that abide hither and thither... now heightened will be passion, thereby this season will be gladdening for lusty womenfolk, hence listen of this season, called Shishira, the Winter...
'At this time, people enjoy abiding in the medial places of their residences, whose ventilators are blockaded for the passage of chilly air, and at fireplaces, in sunrays, with heavy clothing, and along with mature women of age, for they too will be passionately steamy...
...
I am being accused of loving you, that is all
It is not an insult, but a praise, that is all
My heart is pleased at the words of the accusers
...
DOES the road wind uphill all the way?
Yes, to the very end.
Will the day's journey take the whole long day?
From morn to night, my friend.
...
Through the conduits of blood
my body in your body
spring of night
my tongue of sun in your forest
...
last night where the soul's sorrow was a mate,
last night where she found one start,
...
EARLY POEMS: JUVENILIA
by Michael R. Burch
These are my early poems, or juvenilia, most of them written between the ages of 11-18 and some published in my high school literary journal, THE LANTERN, and others in my college literary journal, HOMESPUN.
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EARLY POEMS: JUVENILIA
by Michael R. Burch
These are early poems, most of them written between the ages of 11-18 and some published in my high school literary journal, THE LANTERN. Other poems were written later and several of those were published in my college literary journal, HOMESPUN.
...
This night does not know the words of introduction
This night with little robots and lasers, with Scalextric toy cars
This night dirtied by grease
This night that throws everything in your face
This night that is kidnapping hitchhikers and shutting them away
in an attic filled with toy animals and clowns
This night that is secretly looking at the papers of a poet who
no longer believes
This long night of allegory
This night the old differences are coming to a head, shades pulled
down, the shop shut up
This night anxiously anticipating from the crowd
the announcement of a new pope
This night when white tigers are dreaming of the wind-up bird
This night with neither tongue nor eyes, a scalp from which
something is slowly leaking
This night with its cleansing milks, its goddamned braces
This night that's rocking you, this silky purring beside you, that
leans deep inside
This night, it plays nicely with you & leaves you bloodied
This night that's smoking despite the ban on burning
This night throttled by the trepidation of a first entry
This night that unplugs souls
This night that exits the gates of the Machine ready to sacrifice itself
for a noble cause
This night of Lace and Extermination
This night carved out of wood
This night, room and distance, with bodies of silence surrounding
This night smelling of dough and fresh paint
This night when bread and flesh are black as in a poem
by Antonio Gamoneda
This night does not play the fool when it comes to love
This night is a revolutionary with fierce breasts and unattainable ideals
This night disarming nuclear warheads
This night overturning drilling platforms and plunging them to great depths
This night filling with horror those who thought that imagination
could not
This night with great and dimmed stars like the eyes of Emily
over Amherst
...
Night, night, night
I have to go and catch my bus
I think of an even better idea
...
The clouds slowly conceal sunlight at night,
Who then slowly reveal moonlight at night.
In this city roams the Moon of New-York,
Who's face reflects the city's light at night.
...
The morning of the sun is like being touch with the rays of the sun just when a bird touch the sky for a rose will bloom with the touch of the bird that is the angel of respect but some where a heart that wish for the touch of respect is the heart that wish for a star for every star that been wish one is the family of the angel for who live in the night sky for one call the house of the angel of respect yet the night of the stars is the night of respect.
A beautiful bird is a beautiful morning and yet there a heart that stand inn the rays of the sun but every min that a heart stand in the rays of the sun the more the sun will warm the heart that stand in the ray of the sun just to be touch by the ray of the sun is like being touch by the angel of respect for who's heart is fill of respect to touch a heart that wish for respect and yet the night of the stars is the night of respect.
...
OH NIGHT OH MONSTROUS NIGHT
~•~•~•~•~•~•
Upon a darkened night
...
I drink and I look all around at night
I sit and make no more sound at night
I realize I'm alone in this bar at night
I'm alone with all these people at night
...
It was a night for which we both had ardently waited; like the uncouthly sweltering deserts wait; for the first droplets of resplendently bountiful rain,
It was a night for which we both had timelessly waited; like the unfathomably emaciated shark in the boundless oceans waits; for plentiful scores of succulently ravishing fish,
...
When it's night for one will feel the touch of respect but yet for every moment that one feel the touch of respect for one who wish for respect is one who's eyes will sparkle in the night thus for when one see a star for it's the angel of respect that will touch a heart with respect and yet the night one feel the touch of respect.
...
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