"nightjars" poems
dusk falls
between the trees
as nightjars and moths
trace lines of angular momentum
and the sky recedes
to an aspect of light and shade
May 29, 2015
May 29, 2015 at 6:11 AM UTC
by Sara L Russell (2003)
"Who is this goddess?" Whispered the sun,
As the moon traversed the sky,
"This angel, silent as a nun,
This silver dragonfly?"
He moved in for a closer gaze,
His heart began to speed,
As through a misty, cloud-spun haze,
He watched the moon proceed;
Soft silver tresses graced her brow,
Her dress, mother-of-pearl,
billowed like sails on a dream-ship's prow,
or curved tsunami-swirl.
"Oh Lady Moon" murmured the sun,
"I burn, I swoon for you.
"Come let me kiss you, gentle one,
Before night passes through."
"Come languish in my warming arms,
To music of nightjars,
Come let me taste those subtle charms,
Dear lady of the stars."
"Ah, do not court frivolity"
He heard the moon reply.
"My purpose is to steer the sea
And yours to light the sky;"
"Why, if I languished here with you,
Tall ships would run aground,
And you must light each day anew
Or all nature confound."
The sun-god would not be deterred,
But kissed her trembling lips.
As they embraced, no sound was heard
Throughout the first eclipse;
Waves lay as mirrors where they kissed,
Until they drew away,
To drift back into heaven's mist,
As night melted to day.
Mar 20, 2015
Mar 20, 2015 at 6:24 AM UTC
Now as I was young and easy under the apple boughs
About the lilting house and happy as the grass was green,
The night above the ****** starry,
Time let me hail and climb
Golden in the heydays of his eyes,
And honoured among wagons I was prince of the apple towns
And once below a time I lordly had the trees and leaves
Trail with daisies and barley
Down the rivers of the windfall light.
And as I was green and carefree, famous among the barns
About the happy yard and singing as the farm was home,
In the sun that is young once only,
Time let me play and be
Golden in the mercy of his means,
And green and golden I was huntsman and herdsman, the calves
Sang to my horn, the foxes on the hills barked clear and cold,
And the sabbath rang slowly
In the pebbles of the holy streams.
All the sun long it was running, it was lovely, the hay
Fields high as the house, the tunes from the chimneys, it was air
And playing, lovely and watery
And fire green as grass.
And nightly under the simple stars
As I rode to sleep the owls were bearing the farm away,
All the moon long I heard, blessed among stables, the nightjars
Flying with the ricks, and the horses
Flashing into the dark.
And then to awake, and the farm, like a wanderer white
With the dew, come back, the **** on his shoulder: it was all
Shining, it was Adam and maiden,
The sky gathered again
And the sun grew round that very day.
So it must have been after the birth of the simple light
In the first, spinning place, the spellbound horses walking warm
Out of the whinnying green stable
On to the fields of praise.
And honoured among foxes and pheasants by the gay house
Under the new made clouds and happy as the heart was long,
In the sun born over and over,
I ran my heedless ways,
My wishes raced through the house high hay
And nothing I cared, at my sky blue trades, that time allows
In all his tuneful turning so few and such morning songs
Before the children green and golden
Follow him out of grace.
Nothing I cared, in the lamb white days, that time would
take me
Up to the swallow thronged loft by the shadow of my hand,
In the moon that is always rising,
Nor that riding to sleep
I should hear him fly with the high fields
And wake to the farm forever fled from the childless land.
Oh as I was young and easy in the mercy of his means,
Time held me green and dying
Though I sang in my chains like the sea.
3.3k
The Sun, The Moon and Love
by Sara L Russell, 2003
"Who is this goddess?" whispered the sun,
As the moon traversed the sky,
"This angel, silent as a nun,
This silver dragonfly?"
He moved in for a closer gaze,
His heart began to speed,
As through a misty, cloud-spun haze,
He watched the moon proceed;
Soft silver tresses graced her brow,
Her dress, mother-of-pearl,
billowed like sails on a dream-ship's prow,
or curved tsunami-swirl.
"Oh Lady Moon" murmured the sun,
"I burn, I swoon for you.
"Come let me kiss you, gentle one,
Before night passes through."
"Come languish in my warming arms,
To music of nightjars,
Come let me taste those subtle charms,
Dear lady of the stars."
"Ah, do not court frivolity"
He heard the moon reply.
"My purpose is to steer the sea
And yours to light the sky;"
"Why, if I languished here with you,
Tall ships would run aground,
And you must light each day anew
Or all nature confound."
The sun-god would not be deterred,
But kissed her trembling lips.
As they embraced, no sound was heard
Throughout the first eclipse;
Waves lay as mirrors where they kissed,
Until they drew away,
To drift back into heaven's mist,
As night melted to day.
Sep 1, 2009
Sep 1, 2009 at 3:21 PM UTC
You go up the long track
That will take a car, but is best walked
On slow foot, noting the lichen
That writes history on the page
Of the grey rock. Trees are about you
At first, but yield to the green bracken,
The nightjars house: you can hear it spin
On warm evenings; it is still now
In the noonday heat, only the lesser
Voices sound, blue-fly and gnat
And the stream's whisper. As the road climbs,
You will pause for breath and the far sea's
Signal will flash, till you turn again
To the steep track, buttressed with cloud.
And there at the top that old woman,
Born almost a century back
In that stone farm, awaits your coming;
Waits for the news of the lost village
She thinks she knows, a place that exists
In her memory only.
You bring her greeting
And praise for having lasted so long
With time's knife shaving the bone.
Yet no bridge joins her own
World with yours, all you can do
Is lean kindly across the abyss
To hear words that were once wise.
2.7k
Where are you, perfect piece of writing?
I read of you when I was a boy, long ago,
Naked youngsters on horseback, waiting,
Hidden in shadows at the meadow’s edge,
Then they go, aware of danger, scared,
Moonlight dancing upon their skin, cool,
Nightjars and bats swoop low, hunting moths,
And the youngsters ride, he observing her,
So beautiful to describe, and yet, you are gone,
Long ago, lost in my mind, yet I remember,
And I wonder, what you are, if you are,
And will I ever read you again, savour you?
Where are you, perfect piece of writing?
©Paul M Chafer 2016
Mar 25, 2016
Mar 25, 2016 at 9:57 AM UTC
Windows never see me, looking through
stairways never lead me to
all the places outside
at the day's end
looking in
Blue day of sun rays will shine
stars beam, yellow moon streams
make drowsy eyes dream
Nightjars
glide through fragrant cedar trees
starlit, past the silence
to a place of dream
Sep 10, 2013
Sep 10, 2013 at 9:34 PM UTC
Wearily reclines the midnight moon
Stars dreamily wait to fade
The nightjars somewhere sleepily croon
My eyes slumber doesn’t invade.
I hear my bloodstream in the canals of vein
The lubdub of my doughnut from deep
Echoes of footsteps, long forgotten pain,
My eyes can’t trace a wink of sleep.
The night ages the moon seeks west
Stars yearn an end to their trek
Inside my head they still abhor rest
Run random my thoughts without break.
Jul 18, 2013
Jul 18, 2013 at 2:24 AM UTC
When the pall of sullen smoke recedes,
and the rubble long rummaged, after
the nightjars all return home to roost,
and tear-wells in the heart dry up,
the hour,
when the wails of sobbing mothers muffle,
broken
the silken dreams that we conjured up.
Under the vaults of the darkened skies,
who uncovers the faces masked,
read the blackened hearts of hatred?
Not the siren of death we heard then,
stirring the empty wells of our being:
but the song of the hopelessness of life
in the company of our shadow selves.
Sep 27, 2013
Sep 27, 2013 at 2:59 AM UTC
At night my friend and I would look up at the stars
without a telescope we would pour the night into two jars
my mother claimed that in our chimney lived a ghost
he would elude the flames and do his utmost
to make mischief creating shapes out of the smoke
By the fire my Mother would tell stories of the nightjars
they were as elusive as fire of the nearest stars
under the moon at night I would hear my Mother sing
our intelligent sleeping ghost would wake, joining in whistling
In the morning my jar was filled with the splendid sounds
of nightjars my friend and I slowly searched the grounds
for this elusive bird in the graveyards and the local park
we watched the swans take flight close to dark
uplift from water to wing was like a gift of gold from castle to king
with beauty gone we were like a ruby separated from it's ring
Dec 30, 2011
Dec 30, 2011 at 4:19 AM UTC
Far away from the city
One bed for the four of us,
We ignored the nitty-gritty
The night was superbly precious.
5 acres of open darkness
We couldn’t for more bargain,
The new moon hid her face
To envelope the 4 lonely men!
We sank and deep-breathed the smell
Of a languor that only silence can bring
Drunk timeless without any wine’s spell
We flew with the nightjars on wing.
In the sky’s faintest dream light
One bed with no hint of nightmare
5 acres of softly passing night
Transfixed 4 souls out there!
Apr 4, 2013
Apr 4, 2013 at 3:21 AM UTC