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Jesse stillwater Apr 2018
Nightbird perches high
beneath the shooting stars
that dapple the bouquet
    of sleepless peace
... his soft downy breast      
    has lent breath
to the sweet April afterglow
     heaving with song

The mystical feathered troubadour's
     swooning echo
A melodic twilight serenade
conjures a moonstruck metamorphosis,
sprouting magical wings of flight;

rousing a lonely heart's esprit
     to fly away unfettered
     in constellations of song

How dare imaginings spilled from the big dipper
enchant such an enrapturing magic spell?
It's so far to fall from swinging on a star!
It's so far beyond nearing crescent moon
     when you wish upon a star  

Thereupon struck by a bewitching bolt of starlight;
Dropping asudden as a shooting-star!

    Rolling like trailing thunder;
        tucked and tumbling ―

           celestial rumbling
blossoming with an unearthly joy

A nascent winged heart splayed bare,
soars upon cresting wind waves;
    dreaming of that shapeless  
          w h o  o  o  o  s h ―
         gathering beneath
        ~ uplifting wings ~

  Suddenly ― gliding freely,
       winging gracefully
  upon wafting star drift glitter;
lilting lightly upon the arising cadence
of nightingale's melodious fluted song

Nightingale sings sweet April perfume
beneath the star shed lamplight twinkle

... and it makes no difference if it's only a dream
    if my heart had wings

imagined by:   Jesse Stillwater
22nd  April  2018

Imagination set free ... perhaps rooted in the branches of a tree

Luscinia, nightingale -  songbird noted for its melodious nocturnal song
SøułSurvivør Jun 2016

in the darkness far away
chirping songs endlessly play
a nightbird mourns the passing day

with every note his passion bleeds
he's long forgotten what he needs
his mate is dressed in widow's weeds

their sun exploded on the hills
to become a billion stars at will
the summer's heat now winter's chill

how can you sing, O wretched bird?
the sun has died - haven't you heard?

it gave it's ghost without a word

(C) 6/11/2016
I know this is a rather sad sounding poem but I'm actually in a good mood.
It rained earlier this evening. I'm sitting outside enjoying the cool air. It's getting really late now. Guess it's time for bed.
daycrow  Nov 2020
daycrow Nov 2020
hello, my nightbird.
did you sing your song today?
did they hear your dawn lullaby,
or did they kick you away?

the fault was never yours to begin with;
earth crumbles beneath my feet day after day,
but you flit
and feel no need to stay.

and that's fine. i mean it
when i say,
"i wouldn't have it any other way."
i meant it then, and i mean it now. have you seen the depths in your eyes? i've drowned in them before.
Stu Harley Mar 2016
let your heart
the moon
be here soon
Woody  Jan 2016
Woody Jan 2016
I dreamed the nightbird came
and cleaned the lint from my belly
button like a buzzard in the sun
pecking sleep from my eyes,
like a songbird on my shoulder
with its beak in my ear stealing
my last song. Or was it singing?
I swear, I'd rather be dreaming
about moonlight, smoky quartz
and dark hose. A woman named
Morion. Her sighs in the morning.
A B Perales Jul 2013
There is'nt very many places
that can come close to the
perfection that a summers night
brings about on the streets
of San Pedro.
Its all still so raw,
on the lower side of town ,tenants sit
outside on stoops in front of
cheap hotels made for cheap people.
Feral cats stalk the wharf rats
who hide out within the  
rising mounds of fishing
nets that sit in large heaps along the
guano stained docks.
The Mad houses all have ancient air
conditioning, all of which only seems to
push the Mad a little bit closer
to that empty they all long to
Teen aged lovers walk hand in hand
past the bars and the liquor stores
along Pacific Ave.
The smiles on there clean faces
prove that they are still oblivious
to the horrors that love will one
day bring.
Drinking men and Die hard wasted
Women stand outside of windowless
drinking holes *******
on cigarettes, their silent stares
warn all who pass
that what little they had to lose
is already gone.
Most of these sets of eyes and
heads of hair,
have never heard the nightbird
sing,or watched transfixed
as the blood ran
along the gutters like
mountain run off
in the spring.

I find it comforting to know
that these summer night adventures
dare only to venture out
for this briefest of season.
I need them gone from my darkness,
they are not of the night,
even one as perfect as this.
Their clueless smiles and their
false joys cast a foul shade of light
upon the realness and the honesty
of this summers night.
Only lost souls like myself,
the street walking ******  and
the murderous feral cats know
when and where the magic truly died.
Only those with broken ties
and broken hearts can look
to the shot out street lamps
and know they are home.
If only these programed minions
would leave me and the mad ones,
me and the ******,
me and the shot out street lamps
and the flea bitten battle hardened
wharf  cats
to all of what we call our own.
They come out of their cages and
walk along the same gum stained
sidewalks as we who have sacrificed
it all to become as one with
the night.

They see all of the same neon signs
and graffiti covered walls as I do,
but that's where their tiny
little minds locked into their
tiny little worlds stop.
They cant comprehend and
I don't have enough wine
or enough patience
to waste my time
on programed minds.
Let them cheer each other on
let them guide each other to their deaths.
Leave us to this night and the millions
of California summer nights to come.
Let them lock themselves away
when these summer nights shift
to fall.
I and the night
cringe at their presence.
The feral cats release
a deep menacing warning
as these invaders pass
them by.
Their place is locked
securely behind
some gates,somewhere
on that hill.
A place I dare not to
venture,a place built
on the blood labor
of the poor,a place full
of their lies.
Lies and forced false ways
that draw
deep blood toned scars
upon the honesty
and the  integrity of this
sacred summers  night.
Ramin Ara  Mar 2017
Ramin Ara Mar 2017
A Voice
Jude kyrie Apr 2017
If you go away as I know you will.
Go on a summer day when the air is still
And the sun is warm and the flowers shine
And the world is sweet like summer wine.

If you go away as I know you will.
Leave when the nightbird's song is loud and shrill
And there's no chance of rain in an azure sky.
And the summer breezes cry goodbye.

If you go away las I know you will.
And the futures filled with only time to ****
It will be kinder losing you on an afternoon
When the world is sweet and the flowers bloom.

If you go away.........

If you go away..........

If you go away..........
wichitarick Jun 2017

Nightbird,Nightbird cawing  in the twilight ,outside my window causing us a fright

Long comes mornin when pretty birds are singing in a big blue sky ,but they soon flyaway & the clouds turn grey

Had laid & slept, dreamt of a better time, windy warm felt like we were limber, lofty like a kite

Soon those feelings are turning impossible ,nothing is  plausible ,again thrown into the fray

Pretty flowers, greening grasses laid out in a grand display then like the breath of hades is sent into blight

Lovely memories,mommas and poppas, brothers & sisters, with many a friend but with time I've seen their passing & felt them go away

Gentle mist softly sending us into bliss, gathered in pools,  streams to flowing rivers then amassing into crashing,bashing salty waves frightening like suicide

Cuddly kittens cooing,playing puppies barking ,turning into lions and wolves growling and howling at the moon while at bay

Evolution,revolution of earth spinning ,showing cycles of light, fading then dark,darker darkest ,then alone & terrified

Begin with a grin,awake to forge ahead when we win,slowly breaking stride,left with more to hide,how much will the next load weigh

So it seems we're left with what we see hear or feel ,right or wrong
time it seems helps us take it all in stride. .R.C.
Originally started harmonizing some words in a bluegrass or folk style,but then just added to it , I don't tend to "fill in the black" :) but thought maybe better to show good & bad or dark & light? But thanks for reading. your thoughts are helpful. Rick
Strong memories rise
and emotions clench my throat.
Behind my eyes I see the images.
They spin, one after another,
till they are no longer spectres.
They live again before me as it was.
The deep music plays - reminding my soul
of every ideal and dream.
I feel the wingbeats of some nightbird
and her heart's source.
The hair on the back of my neck rises.
I feel my long hair lifted by the wind.
My body begins to turn and turn in a dervish dance.
Night wind, Take me with you!
I know just where to go.

— The End —