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Diana Jan 2014
Goodnight, goodnight
I will recall
Goodnight, goodnight
This was a hard fall

Goodnight, goodnight
You promised we’d fight
Goodnight, goodnight
But nothing’s alright

Goodnight. goodnight
I loved you for so long
Goodnight, Goodnight
But still you are gone

Goodnight, goodnight
I’m done with this war
Goodnight, goodnight
It’s my turn to soar

Goodnight, goodnight
I refuse to grieve
Goodnight, goodnight
It’s my turn to leave
Seanathon Apr 2017
Goodnight father
Goodnight sun
Goodnight detestability of day and enjoyment of all things costly and fun
Goodnight to you
And goodnight to me
Goodnight dear bed frame and thank you for this, your stability
Goodnight my pillow
Goodnight my bed
Goodnight and would you carry me, over the moon and back again?
Goodnight to you, to these honest things, which I may or may not mind first thing in the morning
Goodnight my distant memories
And goodnight to my favorite mystery, to your quiet and kind consistencies
For it’s a good night I offer, honestly
A good night from another
A goodnight from me
Goodnight my father
Goodnight to your son
Goodnight moonlit stars and spinning earth
Though the turning therein has just begun
Goodnight my Lord, goodnight and please, watch over those in need of sleep
Goodnight my God, a good night to you
Good night you have been, good to me
https://soundcloud.com/user-433755196/good-night
Jeni Feb 2016
I love you,
Goodnight
Every night, since forever ago
Rhythm
Routine
Family, friends
Taken for granted, yet
True.

Fourteen years old
I love you,
Called out,
A promise of returned affection
Timid, unsure
A response to
Insecurities.
Not true.

I love you,
Goodnight
Every night, since forever ago
Rhythm
Routine
Family, friends
Taken for granted, yet
True.

Fifteen years old
Distrustful
Cynical
Confused
Emotions flapping about like lost geese
Nothing like all the before’s
So this is what must be
True.

I love you,
Goodnight
Every night, since forever ago
Rhythm
Routine
Family, friends
Taken for granted, yet
True.

Sixteen years old,
That feeling
Tumultuous but calming
Broken yet whole
Lost but found
Your deep, beautiful eyes
Painful beyond belief, yet the best thing I’ve ever felt
Simply, it's true
I love you.

I love you,
Goodnight
Every night, since forever ago
Rhythm
Routine
Family, friends
Taken for granted, yet
True.

Seventeen years old,
It’s true
What is?
That
You’re my truth
And
I love you.

I love you,
Goodnight
Every night, since forever ago
Rhythm
Routine
Family, friends
Taken for granted yet
True.

Seventeen years old,
I love you
But…
I ****** up
I love you
But…
I kissed someone else
We never set boundaries
But….
I know I did wrong
I love you
But…
I truly can’t be with you right now.

I love you,
Goodnight
Every night, since forever ago
Rhythm
Routine
Family, friends
Taken for granted, yet
True.  

Seventeen years old,
You’re awesome
We’re so similar
So,
I love you?
No,
I realize that belongs to someone else,
But you think it's yours.
And that isn't true.
****.

I love you,
Goodnight
Every night, since forever ago
Rhythm
Routine
Family, friends
Taken for granted, yet
True.

Seventeen years old,
I hate myself
Because I’ve hurt you
Your pain is killing me
Though really, it’s me
Killing you
I love you,
It's true.
But,
How can you ever forgive me?

I love you,
Goodnight
Every night, since forever ago
Rhythm
Routine
Family, friends
Taken for granted, yet
True.

Eighteen years old,
I love you
It’s true
But you’re broken still
And I wish I could heal the horror
I caused
For you.

I love you,
Goodnight
Every night, since forever ago
Rhythm
Routine
Family, friends
Taken for granted, yet
True.  

Eighteen years old,
I love you
Whispered gently
Deeply
Truly
I want to kiss you
I want to hold you
I want to be with you
Can we, please?

I love you,
Goodnight
Every night, since forever ago
Rhythm
Routine
Family, friends
Taken for granted, yet
True.

Eighteen years old,
Yes. We can.
I love you too.
I still truly do.

I love you,
Goodnight
Every night, since forever ago
Rhythm
Routine
Family, friends
Taken for granted, yet
True.

Eighteen years old,
I love you
But…
Why are you doing this to me?
Why can’t you talk to me instead of hiding behind the texts?
What’s happening?
Please.
Don’t do it this way.

I love you,
Goodnight
Every night, since forever ago
Rhythm
Routine
Family, friends
Taken for granted, yet
True.  

Eighteen years old,
Tears
Broken
Mind exploding with assumptions
Intuition telling the worst of tales
Distrustful
Hurt
Why this pain?

I love you,
Goodnight
Every night, since forever ago
Rhythm
Routine
Family, friends
Taken for granted, yet
True.  

Eighteen years old,
Bitter
Am I jealous?
This isn’t good…
What’s happened to me?
Helpless and
Still true
I love you
But...
Who knows why?

I love you,
Goodnight
Every night, since forever ago
Rhythm
Routine
Family, friends
Taken for granted, yet
True.

Eighteen years old,
And here come apologies
A letter…. I love letters
And
I love you too
Still,
Somehow.
It's true.

I love you,
Goodnight
Every night, since forever ago
Rhythm
Routine
Family, friends
Taken for granted, yet
True.

Eighteen years old
I don’t know what’s wrong with me
Sad
Hurt
Insecure
Doubtful
Distrustful
Broken
Beyond belief
Empty.

I love you,
Goodnight
Every night, since forever ago
Rhythm
Routine
Family, friends
Taken for granted, yet
True.

Eighteen years old
And
I keep crying
I cried because you were so caring towards to me the other day
And it was so sweet.
I cried because you hugged me and let me cry on you
I cried because I love staring into your deep soulful eyes
I cried because I feel so much, all the time, for you
I cried because sometimes I truly hate how much
I love you.

I love you,
Goodnight
Every night, since forever ago
Rhythm
Routine
Family, friends
Taken for granted, yet
True.

Eighteen years old,
And goodnight dear one,
I still really do love you. 
And, I promise you 
All of this is true.
I was about to go to bed an hour ago. I had the light off and everything... But then I got this idea and I knew that if I went to sleep, it'd fade. Oh well, poetry is better than sleep anyways. Sometimes.

In the poem, I describe two kinds of love. That which I feel for family and friends, and that of romantic love, I guess, for lack of another description. I have only truly loved one person in the second manner, I think. I have said I love you, thinking I meant it at the time, only to realize later how far off I was.
Elizabeth Ann Aug 2013
Goodnight I say
Goodnight, Goodnight
Goodnight I whisper
As I turn off the light
Goodnight to the moon,
The stars, the sun
Goodnight to my family
And that special someone
Goodnight to the books
That cover the shelves
Goodnight to the lovers
Who hate themselves
Goodnight to the people,
The friends of my past,
Goodnight to the present
And the future at last
Goodnight to the children
Who sleep one last time
And goodnight to the parents
Who whisper them rhymes
Goodnight to this world
And the people within
And I whisper goodnight
As I sleep with its sin
Namir May 2014
Goodnight and sweetdreams, I whisper in your ear
Goodnight and sweetdreams, as you sleep so near
Goodnight and sweetdreams, and wish you could hear
Goodnight and sweetdreams, my love so dear

You fall asleep, so safe and sound
You fall asleep, with love abound
You fall asleep, so happy and free
You fall asleep, right beside me

When you wake, I be right there
When you wake, there wont be a nightmare
When you wake, your lips will touch mine
When you wake, We will have our time

Goodnight and sweetdreams, you then say to me
Goodnight and sweetdreams, and I will dream free
Goodnight and sweetdreams, for there you I will see
Goodnight and sweetdreams, as we lay as happy as can be
A poem for my love that I just thought of and posted as she fell asleep. <3
Lark Train May 2016
Goodnight, my Princess.
Goodnight, my every hue.
Goodnight, my moon and stars above.
Goodnight, my darling, true.

Goodnight, my universe,
My everything and more.
Goodnight, my trusted faithful,
And hark to hear the score.

Goodnight, my Beautiful,
And trust my words are true
For lest the sun rise suddenly,
I'll start to write of you.

Goodnight, my single Only,
For it is to you whom I have swore
Never to lie, never to cheat,
Never to late return.

Goodnight, my dearest sunshine,
'Till dawn shall bring us to,
And dream of me, my Princess,
As I shall dream of you.
Goodnight Beau
Veronika Nov 2014
Goodnight, the fire burns brightly
Goodnight, you kiss my forehead lightly
Almost paternally now
- We were lovers

Goodnight, clinging to the sheets by your side
Goodnight, heartache in this house tonight
Someday we will forget
- We were lovers

This distance will turn my blood cold
A grave look on a pale face of youth
If I could shrink the ocean to be close
Would you save me anymore
Love became an ugly truth

Goodnight, the fire burns brightly
Goodnight, I held on to the moment tightly
Almost in retrospect
- We were lovers
Edna Sweetlove Oct 2014
Goodnight ******
You fill me with sorrow;
Goodnight ******
You might die tomorrow.

Grunts and farting make me quite forlorn
But with each dawn I feel new-born;
Goodnight ******
While I'm deep inside you.

Goodnight ******
Let me lie beside you;
Goodnight ******
O what fun to ride you.

Goodnight ******,
Straightjacket enfold you,
Strong enough to hold you,
Goodnight ****** goodnight.
Sing this to the tune of "Goodnight Sweetheart" - it will make your neighbours laugh a lot.
Nina Nguyen Sep 2018
Goodnight lover
Goodnight mother
Goodnight father
Goodnight brother
Goodnight goodnight
Goodnight friends
This may be the end
Goodnight it’s time to sever
All of our ties
Goodnight maybe forever
Goodnight
And Goodbye
Makayla Feb 2016
Goodnight, goodnight
Stars so bright,
twinkling in your eyes,
goodnight, goodnight
Lips of faded skin,
skin of porcelain
Black shirt, black shirt
What are you worth?
I love you, I love you
Kisses of beautiful sin
I love you, I love you,
to hold me is bliss
one I'll surely miss
Goodnight, goodnight,
my darling tonight.
Have you ever seen the rain?
The sky cries
as the stars twinkle in your eyes
but goodnight, goodnight
the moon says goodnight.
Jared Eli Aug 2013
Goodnight cruel world
Goodnight, goodnight
Sometimes I'd like it if we didn't fight
Maybe you could agree and we'd both be right
But since you insist on this endless plight
Goodnight cruel world
Goodnight, goodnight
Devyn Batchelder Jul 2012
Goodnight.                                                                                                      
The evening has arrived and the Sun has become weary                                                            
Goodnight                                                       ­                                                 
The stars have come to reclaim the deepest blue                                                             ­             
Speckling across the dark wide blanket of the cosmos                                                           ­           
Goodnight                                                       ­                                                   
The daylight has faded and your energy has been taxed                                                            ­      
Perhaps it was a productive day....                                                          ­                                          
                      ­                                    perhaps not
But the evening calls and the night follows                                                          ­                              
The mysticism and superstition is heralded by cricket calls                                                            ­  
Reality becomes enervated  now, rest your head on the pillow.                                                        
Nirvana inside of the null............................                                 ­                                                         
Finally­, Goodnight.
Cyril Blythe Nov 2012
Janie pushes the metal book cart back into its parking space in the Document Delivery Department of the St. Louis Public Library and hangs the last sticky note for October 30, 2012 on the wall by the head of the department’s closed door. She retightens her brown scarf under her chin, tucking the wispy hairs above her ears back into hiding. Having your hair begin to prematurely gray as a teenager has dramatic effects on a person. Her mother wore scarves around her wrists when Janie was growing up and when Janie begin to wear scarves to conceal her salt-and-pepper hair, her mother just smiled. The clock hanging on the wall above the children’s section reads 11:28pm.
Two more minutes.
She reorganized the pens and books on her desk and set the box reading NOTES onto the right corner or her desk with three blue pens and a stack of note cards. Her coworkers learned fast that Janie does not like to talk. She does not like eye contact. She loves the silence, and never ever to ask her about her hair. Her manager gave her the NOTES box after about a month of horrible miscommunication and everyday it fills with requests for books or tasks that Janie has to complete. She completes the tasks one by one, alone, in her back office in the Reference Department and hangs the completed sticky notes on the wall by her manager’s door. She works the night shift and locks the library up every night. When she’s alone she can talk out loud to herself and those are the only voices she cares to hear.
“Goodnight, books. Good night, rooms.” Janie shut the heavy wooden door to the library, placed the color-coded keys in the front right pocket of her jacket, and began her walk to the bus stop one corner away. She avoids the main road, taking her first right onto a side street that she knows would spit her out right beside the bus stop.
“Goodnight Taco Bell Sign. Goodnight Rite-Aide. Goodnight Westside Apartments. Goodnight Jack-o-Lantern smile.” She stopped in the middle of the alley and peered up at the Jack-o-Lantern grinning down at her from the third story window above. “Mother wouldn’t’ve liked your smirk, Jack. She would’ve slapped that **** right off your face.” Janie, satisfied the pumpkin was put in its rightful place, smiled as she trotted on.
“Mother carved smiles into her arms and that’s why Daddy left, it is, it is.” She kicked at a crushed Mountain Dew can as she remembered that night from years ago.

“Mommy?” Janie pushed opened the door to her mother’s bedroom and saw the moving-boxes torn open and all their contents scattered across the floor. She tiptoed through piles of scarves and silverware and corkscrews until she reached the bathroom in her mom’s room.
“Come to us like rain, oh lord, come and stay and sting a while more, oh lord…” her mother’s voice was slipping off the tiled bathroom walls. Janie pushed open the door and saw the blood for the first time pouring from her mother’s wrist. Her mother was naked and perched on the bathroom sink, singing to a red razor blade.
“Mommy?”
“GET OUT!” Her mother jumped from the counter and perched on all fours on the floor. She began to growl and speak in a voice too deep to be coming from her own throat.
“Mommy! It’s Janie!” She began to cry as her mother, still naked and bleeding, twisted and writhed onto her back and began to crawl towards the door that Janie hid behind.


“Thirty-Three percent, dear. Just a thirty-three percent chance.” She shivered trying to clear the last memory of her mother with the words that all the shrinks had echoed to her over the years. “Schizophrenia is directly related to genetics, little is known about the type of Schizophrenia mother was diagnosed with except that it is definitely passed on genetically. But, there is only a thirty-three percent chance you could have it, dear. Thirty-three percent.” The sound of the bus stop ahead reminds her it is time to be silent again.
“Disorganized Schizophrenia.” She mouthed to herself as she stepped back out onto the busy street from her alleyway. She tightened her scarf and saw the bus pull into the pickup spot. She walked forward to the bus, again immersed in her self-imposed silence.
Stepping out of the February cold, Janie removes her wool scarf as the bus doors close behind her.
“Where to baby?” The driver smiles a sticky smile. Her nametag reads, “Shannon” and has a decaying Hello-Kitty sticker in the bottom left corner.
“The Clinton Street drop.” She hands the driver her $2.50 fare and avoids the woman’s questioning eyes. The night drivers are always more talkative, curious.
“Your ticket hon.” She tears Janie a ticket stub. “Everything is pretty dead this late, I’ll have you there in ten minutes top.”
Janie begins to shuffle towards the seats, ignoring the woman.
“You mind if I crank up the music?” The bus driver asks, purple fingernails scratching in her thick blonde hair. “I need to keep my eyes open and blood flowing and music is my fire of choice you know?”
“Sure.” Janie shrugs her bag onto her shoulder and walks on before the woman can say anything else.
“Route E-2, homebound.” Shannon’s voice crackles over the loudspeaker.
She shuffles down the bus towards her usual seat; second from the back right side.  Shannon starts the bus rolling before she reaches her seat and Janie can hear her singing along to “Summertime” by Janis Joplin. The bus floor, today, is sticky because of the morning rain. Two years of riding public transportation has taught Janie that staring at the floor as she walks to her seat is better than the risk of making eye contact. The bus is usually empty this late but if there ever happens to be anyone else on, it’s better not to converse. Safer that way.
She plops into her seat filling the indention that ghosts of past passengers left. The seat is still warm and Janie squirms around until the stranger heat is forgotten. She tightens her scarf and sighs. The brown pleather seatback in front of her is peeling towards the top. Janie leans forward and idly picks at the scab-like dangles of brown as she watches the sodden city canvas roll past her out the foggy window. As she picks, the hole grows. She twists and digs her unpainted nails into the seat until her hands feel wet, warm. Looking down, they are covered in blood and mud.
“What. The. Actual. ****.” she whispers, wiping her hands on her pants leg. She cautiously picks off another piece of pleather and a trickle of deep red begins to run from the seat back, clumps of mud now falling onto her knees. A puddle of blood and mire splatter down her legs and pool around her feet as she picks at the seat. Her white tights are definitely beyond saving now, so she digs faster until her thumbnail catches on something, bends back, and cracks. She gasps and withdraws her shaking hand, watching her own blood mix with the clotting muck in the seat, half of her thumbnail completely stripped off.
Looking around, all else seems normal. The driver is now muttering along to some banter by Kanye West, completely unaware of Janie’s predicament. She closes her eyes.
This is a dream, this is a dream, wake the **** up.
She opens her eyes to see the pool of filth around her feet trickling towards the front of the bus. Panic sets in with a whisper, They’re going to think it was you, your fault, you’ll be thrown in jail.
“But I didn’t do this.” She lashes out to herself. “I didn’t hurt anyone.”
Next stop, E-2. Shannon blares on the intercom.
“It’s just a dream, get your **** together, Janie.” She laughs at herself, manic.
Prove it! Her subconscious screams.
Convinced to end this moment she has to continue; Janie plunges her hand into the pleather grave one more time. Frantic and confused she laughs as she digs, spittle of muck splashing on her bus window.
Faster, faster, faster.
Deeper, deeper, deeper.
Realer, realer, real.
Wake up, now!
Then, as the bus slows, one last chuck of mud splatters to the floor and Janie sees a pink piece of her thumbnail stabbed into the white of a bone in the bottom of the seatback pit. Her white Ked’s were becoming so red they were almost black. She pulls her knees up to her chest and begins to rock back and forth. Clenching shut her eyes she begins to hum. Janie’s sweet soprano harmonizes with the buses deep droning purr, their wet melody interweaving with the driver’s alto and Lil Wayne’s screech made her feel dizzy as the bus turned right.
She take my money when I'm in need
Yeah she's a trifling friend indeed
Oh she's a gold digger way over town
That dig's on me
The bus slows to a stop and the bass is shaking. Janie is cold. She slowly peeks out of her right eye, expecting to be instantly immersed into the same dismal scene. The seatback is whole again. Releasing her knees, her feet fall back to the floor and her shaking fingers stroke the solid pleather.

“Ma’am? We’re at the Clinton Drop.”
Janie hurriedly picks up her bag and flees down the aisle to the bus doors.
“Everything alright, dear?” The bus driver asks, smiling.
“Fine, just fine.”
“You be safe out there tonight. The night is dark and only ghouls stroll the streets this late.”  Shannon laughed as Janie’s jaw dropped. “Happy Halloween, dear. It’s midnight, today is October 31st.”
The bus doors opened and a cold wind ****** the warm bot-air surrounding Janie into the streets. She begrudgingly followed, her mind spinning as she stepped onto the pavement. The doors slammed behind her and she turned to see Shannon pull out a tube of lipstick and smear it, red, across her cracked lips. Shannon made a duck-face in the mirror and reached down to crank up the music as loud as it would go. The bus exhaled and rolled forward, leaving Janie behind as it splashed through the potholes.
She surveys the surrounding midnight gloom and the street is quiet and dark. Even the stars are hidden behind swirling clouds. She begins to hum, hands in her pocket, and shuffle towards her apartment.
“Goodnight, stars. Goodnight, street.”
As she approaches her single-bedroom apartment, digging through her coat pocket for her keys, her thumb pulsates. She grasps the keys and pulls them out as she steps up to the apartment. Sticking the cold, silver key in the lock she looks down at her thumb and in the shadows of the porch sees half of the nail completely missing. She laughs as she pushes the door open to her bare apartment, light flooding out. Without any hesitation she closes the door behind her, sheds her clothes, and slips onto the mattress in the corner of the room gripping her thumb tight. She reaches out for the glass of milk on the floor beside her bed from the morning and it’s still cold. Nursing the milk, surrounded by blankets and solitude, she reminds herself,  “Only a thirty-three percent chance. A nice, small, round number. Small.”  
She sets down the empty glass and curls into the fetal position under the heavy blankets, pointer finger tracing circles on her thumb. Only when she has heated her blanket cocoon enough to feel safe does she remove her scarf and allow her thick white hair to fall around her face.
“Goodnight, room. Goodnight, mother,”
Andromeda Sep 2016
Goodnight stars
Goodnight summer
Goodnight interstellar glimmer

Goodnight auroras, forever dancing
Goodnight to all the treetop prancing

Goodnight Hailey, racing comet
Goodnight to whom I write my sonnet

Goodnight crickets
Goodnight moon
Goodnight to you all, I'll see you soon
I wrote this before falling asleep (written mid August 2016).
Aditya Shankar Jul 2014
Kiss the child goodnight, tuck her in safe
Lest she should dream of escape
To a world where rainbows circle the skies
And you are not who you have striven to be.

Kiss the child goodnight, make sure you turn off the light
Lest she should be unafraid and bold
In the face of the infectious fear
That flits through your eyes in a dark, alien alleyway.

Kiss the child goodnight, hold her close and tight
Lest she reaches out to the same sun
That burned your naive fingertips
And shattered your lofty castle in the clouds.

Kiss the child goodnight, don't let her open those eyes
Until she is finally lulled to deep slumber
Wrapped within warm blankets
And the beginnings of complacency.

Kiss the child goodnight, watch her sleep in silence.
Inspired by a conversation with a friend.
All interpretations are welcome.
Rajj Magat May 2015
Until the dark night lost its stars
and the moon fade its light
there will always be goodnight

Until my eyes saw its heaven
and my heart feel its desire
I will never say goodbye

only goodnight, *goodnight
the dirty poet Aug 2018
a wacko version of hamlet

the patient came up to us raving
GOODNIGHT, GOODNIGHT
a naked swollen giant
his basketball *****, his endless belly
every system failing
we prepared to put him out
so we could stick a tube down his throat
plug him on a ventilator
and insert lines for safekeeping
GOODNIGHT, I LOVE YOU
he tried to lean off the bed
take it easy man, i said, restraining him
SUSAN  
who’s susan? asked the nurse
GOODNIGHT, GOODNIGHT, GOODNIGHT
good night, sweet prince, i said as we gave him the drugs
GOODNIGHT, I LOVE YOU, GOODNIGHT
we intubated him and took him down to the OR
where he passed twenty minutes later
Goodnight, dear one, the day has passed.
No ray of light is meant to last.
Our time is short, as verse to song.
Goodnight, dear one, you've been so strong.

Goodnight, dear one, eyes closed in peace,
let pain and struggle, at last, cease.
The battle that you fought is done
Goodnight, dear one, at last, you've won.

Goodnight, dear one, you've earned a rest,
for all the lives you've touched and blessed.
While in our thoughts, you're never gone;
goodnight, dear one, we'll carry on.

Goodnight, dear one, but not goodbye,
within our hearts you'll never die.
As precious as our time has been,
goodnight, dear one. We'll meet again.
Gone but never forgotten. I'll love you as long as the universe exists.
Goodnight World
Goodnight Moon
***** this ****
I'm not childish
1:00 AM means I'm too tired to write, but can't sleep. **** it.
MG Apr 2013
If I'd have known goodnight would have meant goodbye,
I would have tried to kiss you a little longer that night.

If I'd have known goodnight would have meant goodbye,
I would have held your face as I kissed you that night.

If I'd have known goodnight would have meant goodbye,
I would have rubbed the back of your neck a little bit longer that night.

If I'd have known goodnight would have meant goodbye,
I would have held your hand in the taxi home that night.

If I'd have known goodnight would have meant goodbye,
I would have intertwined my fingers through your hair one last time,
We both liked that.

If I'd have known goodnight would have meant goodbye,
I would have wrapped my arms around your neck,
With an embrace making our bodies become one.

If I'd have known goodnight would have meant goodbye,
I would have looked deep into your eyes again,
Just to catch them looking back at me,
Maybe for just a little bit longer.

If I'd have known goodnight would have meant goodbye,
I would have never let the night end.
unnamed Apr 2012
A Poem Composed Entirely of Verses, Phrases, and Select Words From T.S. Eliot's The Waste Land and The Hollow Men Disposed in a New Order for an English Literature Class Called English 206 at Lewis & Clark College in Portland, Oregon*


This is the Dead Land.
The Death By Water Land.  
The Hanged Man Land.

I had not thought death had undone so many.

In vials of ivory and colored glass,
Under the firelight,
Under the brush,
White bodies naked on the low damp ground.

Bones rattled by the rat's foot.

Rattle.
I hear the king my brother's wreck.
Rattle.
I hear my father's death.

April is the cruelest month.
April is breeding Lilacs out of the Dead Land.

You first gave me Hyacinths a year ago.
They called me The Hyacinth Girl.


A year ago, at the small house in the mountains,
I feel free.
I feel free when we are
Trembling
With tenderness;
Lips that together kiss.
Lips that together form prayers,
Form Life,
Form Earth.
Lips that kept us warm.
Lips, life, Earth, Prayers
Feeding life in the Dead Land,
Breeding Lilacs in the Dead Land.

They call me The Lilac Girl.

I think we are in Rats' Alley.
There I see one I know and him,
crying, picked his bones in whispers.
Crying in whispers unshaven he says,

Burning burning burning
O Lord pluckest me out
O Lord pluckest me out
Burning burning burning*

In demotic French,
Asked me to luncheon at the Cannon Street Hotel.
The Cannon Street Hotel is burning.
In demotic French,
Asked me,

You who were with me in the ships of Mylae!
That corpse you planted last year in your garden,
Has it begun to sprout? my nerves are bad tonight.
Stay with me. yes, bad. stay with me. what is that noise.
It's so elegant. so intelligent. mon semblable; my likeness!
Hypocrite! you!


He sat as though a heap of images broken in a flash of lightning
And crawled head downward down a blackened wall among the lowest of the dead to voices singing out of Empty cisterns,

Burning burning burning
O lord pluckest me out
Burning burning burning


Sweet Thames, I swear, I can't bear to look at you.

Sweet Thames, no more can I, I said,  no more can I bear to look at you and think of poor Albert.

You ought to be ashamed, Sweet Thames, I said, to look so antique.

I want to know what you have done with the memories he gave you,
The memories you took,
The sound of horns and motors,
The prolonged candle-flames,
The pattern on the coffered ceiling,
The small house in the mountains,
The lips that together kissed,
The life,
The Earth,
The Hycinths.

What have you done with my Hyacinths, Sweet Thames?

I still remember those pearls that were his eyes.

Albert, speak to me. Why do you never speak.
Speak.
What are you thinking of?
I think we are in rats' alley
Where the dead men lost their bones.
Where are your bones?
Do you see nothing?            
Do you remember nothing?
Are you alive, or not?
Alive, or not?
Alive,orNotAliveOrNotNotAliveNotAlive
Not alive.
You are nothing.
I am nothing.


I clutch and sink into the wet bank.

Death by Water.
The Dead Land.

Hyacinths in the Dead Land.
Lilacs in the Dead Land.

The Hyacinth girl in the Dead Land. Dead Hyacinths dead in the Dead Land.

The Lilac girl in the Dead Land. Dead Lilacs dead in the Dead Land.

Hurry up, please,
It's time. It's time.

Sweet Thames, run softly, till I end my song.
Sweet Thames, run softly, for I speak not loud or long.

You gave me hyacinths first a year ago.
They called me the hyacinth girl.
Yet when we came back, late, from the Hyacinth garden,
Yours arms full, and your hair wet,
I could not speak,
And my eyes failed,
I was neither living nor dead,
And I knew nothing,
Looking into the heart of light, the silence.

Goodnight, Thames.
Goodnight, Albert.
Goodnight, small house.
Goodnight, Hyacinths.
Goodnight, Lilacs.
Goodnight, April.
Goodnight, goodnight.
Edward Coles Mar 2018
Goodnight I, lost the fight I,
Cheated death for a while my friend
Now I’m off for a better fit
Off to a place of happiness
And no pain
Tonight

I lost all my movements
I’m in and out of consciousness now
I can’t breathe but I can still dream
I still hear you through that morphine wall
But I can’t get through
Tonight

My heart skips a beat
Like a stone over a pond
If seeing is believing
I guess I don’t see at all…

Goodnight I know it’s late
Let’s toast the good years
We spent in waste
All the bars, all the conversations
All the details, they blur into one
Goodnight friend
Goodbye friend
You’re a ******* and you’re a drunk

Goodnight friend
My blackout friend
You always kick me when I’m down
And I’m sorry I lost the fight
Just from my window there is no light
There’s no prize, there’s no woman
So there’s nothing left in my sight

Goodnight friend, goodbye friend
There’s no feeling and no pain
Tonight

Goodnight
A song I wrote recently

https://soundcloud.com/ed-coles-667440414/goodnight-demo
C
Kale Apr 2015
Goodnight my love,
Even though the moon's
Greeting comes
to separate us,
I will always love you.
Our bond that was
Formed by Fate
Can never be broken
Because with each
Setting sun
You enter
My dawdling mind
And my heart begins
To sing songs
Like the birds of
early morn
Morrey Nov 2010
They took their arms
and faced the ground
who will rise and who will fall?
the flare is up and now it starts
until the end, until were done.
A fire began
and the night is longer than it used to be
pitch black but it's clear
the smokes and fog are terrible
yet the world is fast asleep
before the dawn breaks
before the sun shines
one goal will be certain
one feud will be settled
I'm alive, I know I am
with one more gasp
I faced the ground
Goodnight..
*Goodnight..
11-10-10
addy henderson Nov 2014
I would write
a thousand rhymes
a thousand times
if my words could chime
through your mind
to remind
you to unwind

when your mind is upright
theres no need to fight
turn off your light
and dont invite
your thoughts tonight

Goodnight, my love
goodnight
Lark Train Jan 2016
Kiss me goodnight at the end of our time.
I don't want to end with a beauty cryin'.
So kiss me goodnight as the world crashes down,
At least our days will have been capped with a crown.
Chris Aug 2015
My room has become a little less me
And a little more you
You've rubbed off on things by the shelf
Memories coated in a thin veil of you.
Dust prints on forgotten things.
Goodnight, goodnight, memories
Hung on the door.

Corners found branded with your name,
Initials carved into dry wall.
Things rearranged the way you like them,
The imprint of an old room grows tall,
Overtaking what's left.
Goodnight, goodnight memories
Stored in my drawer.

The girl in my bed reminds me less of her
And more of you, you see.
Or more strictly, how she could never kiss
Me, not like how your kisses could be.
Goodnight, goodnight, girl unbelonging
Next to me.
Heidi Mason Jan 2015
im so sorry
but I just
can't come to
my senses
to not tell
someone goodnight
to someone i love
because every night
my mom tells me goodnight
and I love her very much
Jordan Rowan Dec 2015
If this is how I feel
Then it must be real
I can't explain how my mind runs
If I'm still alive
When you say goodnight
Then my life has just begun

I'm climbing across the room
Bracing the monsoon
That's gonna take me down
And if I'm still alive
When you say goodnight
Then I hope you stay around

I'm perfect. No I'm not
I'm happy with that
I think it's better to change yourself
You'll never be the same
You can even change your name
But I can always be myself
Around you
Third Eye Candy May 2014
the ghosts around your moist lips
clipping the sweet drench of our limp wish....
the spectral harlots of our far lit lamps
and the damp parlors of our damaged camps
pitched.
the pit of our peaches, fussing the cuff
of our sap. the honey bonds -
of our wayward damp
runes...  
that
we caste  to undo
any telling
of our demise, to save our precious
myth.
to keep our ruse
amused...

my darling... goodnight... though nothing is good
and we have only the night.... goodnight.

i will
trouble you no more
but labor to keep your sweet grief
mine.
to contend
with your unending medallions
of perfect regret, to pass your palm
with silver drek, the likes of which
your liking, may learn to kiss
with two lips
at dead
stop.

if this is the end
tremble and be
trembling.
our disassembling
locks
our open door
and nothing more than vanishing
remains, where our appearance
mocks the
same.

goodnight... though nothing is good, and the light is a darkness,
a trump of knives and a far thing,
up too close
to save a prayer for the plight of fools
and just too far
to pry our hands from live
grenades...

to live for.

but to die
yes.
Dorothy A Nov 2010
The lone eagle makes its
solo journey over the vast horizon

I can see my flag in
the setting sun
as the lemon halo of fire
becomes a vivid pomegranate red,
the turquoise sky darkening
into a sea of navy blue
and wispy, white clouds  
are hovering over us like
spirits in the universe

Lady Liberty,
overlooking the evening
of the New York Harbor,
displays her lit up torch like a
cosmic nightlight
She forever sheds light over
weary Americans
to remind us to
still dream the American dream
but that vision often seems
so out of our common reach

Uncle Sam has put on his nightcap,
a tuckered, old man is he
The crickets are chirping,
singing to me their strange lullabye
as I think I'll call it a night

*Goodnight, America, Goodnight
Skye Rhiannon Nov 2012
Just wanted to say to you my dear,
Goodnight and please sleep tight,
I will talk to you tomorrow,
But as for now please pretend i'm there,
Please just hold me tight,
Have the sweetest of dreams,
Know that i love you,
Now I must slumber,
I will fantasize and dream about you my prince,
Feel free to invade my head anytime you wish,
I will always be here with you,
Goodnight to the sweetest heart out there,
May all your sweet dreams come true lover dear.
WistfulHope Jan 2015
Goodnight, Bug*                                  
                                   *Sweet dreams, Bee

Have all my love                                  
                                   *And dream for me
Based off of a thing that happened c:
Guido Orifice Dec 2016
J.R. said the man in the helmet said, “Goodbye, my friend,” before shooting his father in the chest. His body sank, but the man shot him twice more, in the head and cheeks. The children said the three men were laughing as they left.*
-Daniel Berehulak, They Are Slaughtering Us Like Animals, New York Times

Manila, goodnight.
The world is watching you slowly die.
Tattered truths & losing sense of life
captivate your battered night. Mud hurls blood
streets batted with horror & blabbed
anonymous spirits ghostlier than ever.

(Even ghostlier than your Martial Law days)

Manila, tranquilize yourself.

Your rest will be disturbed by scourged souls, thunderous cracks of guns,
bullets hitting flesh, motorcycle tandem arrests,
people’s holy shouts shunning shibboleth sounding death.

Hear them not. Sleep well.

Maggots festering wound. Manila,
on your knees, worms stich your broken nerves
healing gunshot wounds with peace.

Your night will be a train of madness
shattered by lies through morbid holes in skulls
& confessions in cardboard signs.

(Justice today is served cold, so cold)

& everything from that day on is simply to be known
as a cold just.

Truth decays. Life smolders, vanishing.

Your nights will be unthreaded from memories
for no one dares to look back to twisted arms clenched
by plastic strips, head bowing to ground (instead of ground
bowing to head), ground kissing the body naked swarmed
either by grease or blood, the body breaking gossips
among gossipers & gossamer among spiders.

Weep not, dead men tell no fiction.
Their bodies are the shocking truth, forsaken
shocking headlines hissing morning papers
peppered with mint or lies.

Manila, goodnight for your night will be remembered
through vigilant myths & nothing more.

Often cold bodies, freezing voices from limbo,
can’t speak nor bothered the living.

Again, Manila, in your arms, dead men tell no tales.

The killing spree of fragmented morality,
mortality, fatality, vanity, sanity, insanity, apathy.

Manila, do not move. You are now sedated with fear,
stronger than cooked methamphetamine of crooked realities,
no less than a drug making your anxious, bothered
in the darker & dimmer night
in dimmer  & darker disaster.

Manila, walk with your graffiti walls.
Your gutters will be banks of blood. Daylight traffic
will erase your night’s unwelcoming sphere. Last night
persists as tiny figment of imaginings photographed
& again, nothing more.

Everything will pass like hyacinths of Pasig River.

Everything will pass like one’s eternal passing.

Everything will pass like a chilling December wind.

Everything will pass either a typhoon or a butterfly fluttering.

Manila, goodnight. I am afraid they will ****** you
in your sleep. I am afraid that everything will just pass
like your breath losing hold of your lungs then your heart.

I am afraid that your death, my dear Manila,
will just be a neighbourhood rumour passing
& everything turns into a fiasco of a madman who believes
that he is a messiah, was he a messiah or never he will be a messiah.

Manila goodnight, I will watch you in your sleep. Your sleep
will be a thousand fold peace. No more of your sons or daughters
will be killed at least not in my memory.

Manila, here comes the night. Sleep,
sleep holy in the hidden lair of my mind. Your
catacomb will be wreathed by flowers & tears.
Incense will be fragrant burning bones. Your life,
your tired life will be a gentle ebbing of time
like your Bay’s sunset beauty, like your lively street people
like your once known heritage, your life
in the busy daybreak of your kindred sons.

Goodnight, my dear Manila.
I invite you to read Daniel Berehulak’s coverage of Philippines’ War on Drugs here:
http://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2016/12/07/world/asia/rodrigo-duterte-philippines-drugs-killings.html?_r=0

— The End —