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The days grow shorter

The nights grow colder

The clouds grow dreary

As you sit amongst the graves

Sing to the sleeping
For amongst the dead you are weeping


A melody for the fallen
To their forgotten souls you are calling


A lullaby to the little one
Showing them one last rising sun


The days grow shorter

The nights grow colder

The clouds grow dreary

As you sit amongst the graves
Robin Goodfellow Dec 2016
29
Timeless lullabies
from an ancient pendulum
screams for the dreamer.
lei Nov 2016
i remember
giving you a once-over
and moving along the crowd without looking back.
but how come,
all of a sudden,
the stars seem like they've been living in your eyes?
how come,
all of a sudden,
the clouds are shaped like your silhouette?
how come,
all of a sudden,
the only lullaby i'll ever need is the sound of your laughter?

it confuses me,
how slowly my heart loves.
it amazes me,
how hard i end up falling.
John Niederbuhl Nov 2016
Outside my window
Outside my window
Hear the wind blowing
Hear the wind blowing
Where is it going
Where is it going

I wonder, I wonder, I wonder...

Outside my window
Outside My window
Hear the rain falling
Hear the rain falling
Who is it calling
Who is it calling

I wonder, I wonder, I wonder...

Outside my window
Outside my window
I'm drifting on air
I'm drifting on air
Somewhere on the air
Somewhere on the air

I wonder, I wonder, I wonder...

Just where...
alasia Nov 2016
Tell me why I see him, why I dream of him and wake up longing. Analyze why I can feel him in my unconscious and not cringe, why he doesn't provoke my paralysis or night terrors. That's why I'm here anyways, I need to be fixed. My brain must be broken, cracked down the middle like glass splinters that allow him to seep into my sleep like a lullaby. Get rid of him as I have done in my waking state. I no longer want to dream fondly of his mother or drive down the royal road in his car. Interpret why I take rest to the memories of us laughing and drink him like wine until claimed by sheets. That's your job. Hypnotize me, convince me he never existed, or to forget the way his face looks at least: remind me why he made me scream and cry when he never get his way or how empty I would feel when he talked about the things he loved and I was never one. Show me how to cope, teach me to control my unconscious so I can choose to not see him, so I can turn my back on him before he does me. Exterminate him from my mind, tell me I am crazy, prescribe me pills or send me away, shock me with as many bolts as it takes until the bruises on my leg stop reminding me of his hands, until I forget who he is awake and asleep, lobotomize me if you must because it hurts! It really ******* hurts. Tell me why I was given a heart if it was to be broken, a life if it was to be wasted, a body if it was to never be loved. But that's not your job. So please, just help me sleep.
(are made of him)
Robin Goodfellow Oct 2016
I watch the light from your eyes,
the memories along those distant tides,
through the rivers and icy lies,
I sing to you,
and give you the moon.

Vines and willows brush you face,
caressing the seasons and changing grace
while sleeping in fields, the leaves now lay,
I sing to you,
and give you the moon.

Loveless songs by eve of night,
among the seas of candlelight,
the dreamers dance to sounds of midnight,
I sing to you,
and give you the moon,

Flowers along those broken bends,
the celestial petals the blossoms tend,
you murmur the names of lovers and friends,
I sing to you,
and give you the moon.

I lull you to sleep with your hands in mine,
as shadows befall through the thickness of time.
I watch your breaths fade from everlasting sighs.
Still, I sing to you,
and give you the moon.
Noelle Oct 2016
"Shush now child, you lay your head down, go to sleep right on my chest. Bombs are ringing out the windows, rock us both to sleep or death. Feel the warmness, feel my smile, feel the trickle of my tears. Baby girl just know I love you, heaven’s gates are shining near."
I imagine this being sung to the tune of the classic Christian hymn, 'Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing'.
K Balachandran Oct 2016
To me she clearly sounds more
like a joyful bamboo thicket,
the only pet of this gentle breeze,
swaying in self abandonment.

Holding her  just a heart beat away
I could hear my heart's wonder,
"Haven't her whispered words allude
on something really profound, effulgent,
beyond the realm of both life and death?"

"Sing that lullaby, I identify you with
when our kids were young, instead.
It's indeed perfect as a fine spring board
to fly past the net, time has spread" I said
"Landing gently in that dream space
of permanent twilight, defying death"
Timeless quality of moving lullabies to melt self and touch transcendence.
Brent Kincaid Oct 2016
Rockabye baby
Up in the air.
Nobody questions
How it got there.
Who would put babies
Up high in a tree?
That sounds like
Child abusing to me!

People have sung this
For hundreds of years
Contributing little
But compounded fears.
They should rethink it
But they feel they must
Later they wonder
About lack of trust.

Like many stories
And songs sung to kids
Some scary stories
Are not so well hid
Like kid-munching witches
And following crumbs
Small wonder they fear
Wicked things come.

So don't put your babies
Up high in a tree
Not even lower
Like branch two or three.
Think up a ditty
That might help them thrive
And grow up happy
That they are alive.
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