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jane taylor May 2016
and there i am in the midst of it all, conscious of what appears to be existent, yet knowing it is illusory.  and if time is occurring synchronously then how can i look back with contrition?  for if i have the capacity to move backwards and forwards in quantum leaps, i can erase the past like pastel chalk on an antique blackboard, then start anew.  is not the sky my canvas and the arc of the rainbow my palette?  and the stars in lustrous luminosity light my way so that ev’n at dusk I can paint.  yet pain ne’er ceases to hollow me out.  then through a barren vessel i catch more rain, and pour it out upon the parched terrain.  just when i thought enlightenment was nigh, a sharp edge is discovered.  must it necessitate additional sandpapering from the wind?  when will the gemstone sparkle without further pressure?  does it lie in its power to simply shimmer sans duress?  perhaps it was dazzling at its inception, relinquishing its luster upon domestication.  with this proviso, as it nears twilight i shall tarry and blend with the night.  i’ll dance with a moonbeam knowing the jewel will glisten afresh upon the rise of the golden sun.

@2016janetaylor
Fumi Himawari Apr 2016
Black and White--
are the droplets of my feelings tonight.

Dark and Gray--
shades that ruined my vision, it was mascara like twilight.
MsAmendable Mar 2016
Where day and the moonlight kiss
Fire and silver steam up with a hiss,
She came at midnight, he came at noon
The sun was on fire, and so was the moon
Daylight and shadows are always at war,
And puddle at twilight, in gold on the floor
T E Pyrus Mar 2016
faery dust

i conquered Latmos at sunset.
wind flew swift and secretive.
gold-orange leaves had songs to give
my triumphant sillhouette.

my fingers held misty stardust.
the purple paintbrush flickered hues
of flaked and rosy multitudes
of soft and silent lust.

the evening star twinkled so bright.
my tip-toes rippled the moonlit lake
and watched the spell of daylight break
to mysterious twilight.

wait until faeries arrive.
and slide into an evening, still.
like latern on the windowsill,
the night sky came alive.

the willows wept heartache.
a night owl glided softly by.
under a billion suns i lie
for evermore awake.
Solaces Mar 2016
On starlight road.
Blue neon star sign blinks.
On my way out of this world.
Off a cliff and slingshot past the moon.

On the other side of the twilight.
I meet with you.
We walk the bridge of shadows.
Over the river of light.

Tomorrow songs.
Played on yesterday's light strings.
Lyrics of time.
And melodies of dreams.
Beyond this world and the next.
Silence! The voices stopped. The only sound I hear is the wind howling over the stones, the ancient building ruins, heaps ravaged by time punishes them as an invisible whip. Even the demons are silent now ...

I hear the most croaking frogs and even the sound of crickets filled the night with their songs. Rooster was. His voice was quiet for forty-two years. The only sound now is the voice synthesis of old hardware, metal head that red-eye placed on top of the old marble counter.

- Sir Water? - She asks - The radiation level is low today - finished. The same song sung once a week. The voices? They were silent. Demons are silent now.

Ahh! I wanted to hear the voice of the old rabbi, that white-bearded long peyos when he said to pay attention to the little voices, the voices of the humble, enlightened wanderers, sparks of mystical alphabet, warning humanity that the day would come when voices calariam.

There inside, the demons remain silent. Their voices were silenced by the voice of evil that planted residence in the left chamber of the heart of man the temple.

The ghetto is cold today. People gather around the fire lit inside the old barrel of oil, black blood, called him. It no longer exists. The veins are dry and the blood no longer runs more ...

The white spots covering skin. It should be a good sign, but it is not. Leprosy went devouring the souls of men, women and children. Neither the animals escaped. Contaminated are exiled. They send them to the valley of oblivion where the voice never will rise. They used maliciously. They slandered her. His calumnies were launched in the wind like the leaves of the old oak tree that stood in chaiim forest. He also stopped. The wind no longer howls more through its leafy branches.

Ahh! Where is the voice of the rabbi? He was dead by religious dogmatists. His bright sparks no longer crackle through the air. Even the demons no longer speak. They shut up inside.
Where are the voices of poems and poets? It is also silent. They were causing itching ears of humanity. They accused: - the mighty were the leaders of nations, with their palaces decorated with blood. Blood of the innocent. They made them shut. They caused itches to power the ears.

The gleam in his eyes blinded. It was in 2029 detonated the old Russian gun exchanged for a piece of bread to feed the starving children. All of them died with nuclear heat.

Silence! The voices stopped. The only sound I hear is the wind howling over the stones, the ancient building ruins, heaps ravaged by time punishes them as an invisible whip. Even the demons are silent now ...

Ah! Where is the voice of the old rabbi? I wanted to hear it now. She stopped. Even there inside there is silence now, even the demons whisper more ...*

By Deepak Sankara Veda (Misha'Ël Ha'Levi) Mystik Poet
Is poetry came from humanity's twilight dictated to me by a soul of the apocalyptic future of the world in february 2011.
kj Foster Feb 2016
Eyes turned skyward,
as Helios rides.
Tearing the horizon,
as the sky divides.
Twilight again,
Night setting in.
How I'd trade treasures untold,
for more of these moments,
and a world turned to gold.
Jordan Fischer Jan 2016
I find myself walking the alone now
In the cold and the snow
Not the same routes, but the same destination
Younger years had brothers with me
Twilight walks of care free chaos,
Bonded and made us,  'we'

But women and death have stripped them from me.
I find myself walking alone
In the cold and the snow
Only now it's towards the warmth and laughter
The times of old,
Our memories so bold

I only hope that my future endeavours,
Bring about the same boldness,
The same type of  friendships,
I have such a problem attainting
So I'm no longer walking alone
In the cold and the snow
Ryan M Hall Jan 2016
As the sun sets, I silently
watch the sky.
I witness as the bright yellows
give way to dark pinks.

The night slowly takes hold.
Each star starts to shine one by one.
I remember a long forgotten night.
It was around this time of day she and I had made love for the first time.
At times like this,
I still swear I can taste you on my tongue.

At the thought,
my lips curve into a sneer.
I laugh a bitter laugh.

In the morning, I'll awake
to a cup of black coffee,
and go to work.
I'll take comfort in
knowing that the hot drink
will burn the taste of you out of my mouth.
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