The roads spread throughout
  and past the city, like
the reaching veins of
  my body.

Scabbed trees, **** and
smashed by my
    high-beams,
remind me of the time   I
  sat on the riverbank,  my
cousin receiving oral ***  
  from this gypsy girl.

You don't know the moonlight
  until it's all that touches you.

I don't remember her name
but she posed on motorcycles
and had *** with her uncle.

She was nice
  and the product of
a sad environment.

The thick earth around me,
smothered by nightsong;
it's getting so dark;
the light is escaping.

****** almost killed
  my true love.
****** kills everyone
  around here,
around just about every-
-where. This long dark;
  this nightsong.

Morning falls
from a budding
   cherry tree;

   the colour
of nightsong’s
waning blossom
   comes to be
       an echo
   only heard
   by the wind

Soundless remnants
   of an intimate
twilight odyssey
   tarry thickly,
drifting lightly
through the landscape
      of dawn

   The hushed echo
   wields the silent
         reverie
      of the night,
   gently rippling
   the rivers that run
   through the heart

The poignant taste
of passionfruit lingers
in the sensory traces
      of a warm
   passing breeze;

      penetrating
   the lonely chill
   of a naked night's
      work of art

                ~


           Jesse

My nightsong, what used to be your home
                                                       in my head

Is now filled with ghosts and webs
I sing to the midnight highway traffic
And the stars hang low to hear

If there is a constellation for me,
Come down now
              
                and share this cigarette

Come down and tell your story

I've paced these halls
Between worlds

I've spent my last dollar
On cab fare to see you
                   When the sun is rising
                   and no promises are made

                               So come now,
And tell me why i've felt so old
Since that equinox when I
Looked into my head and
                           Found the gods

When I ran to you racing the dawn
Only to find an empty apartment
And I tried to summon you from
                                         The ether,
but couldn't

So instead I wandered the town,
Bought cigarettes and flowers,
Finished that book I was reading,
And made a few phone calls

That's all I've been up to since then,
Doing the chores, passing the time
Telling everyone that you'll
                                      be back soon

But you still haven't come home,

And I've been waiting
                                          like a widow

The fragrance of Jasmine
is sweet in the air.
And we shall be friends
this magic night and I.
This perfumed dampness
of a lovers hair.
We shall mingle as one
this night and my soul.
If the nectar of heaven
filled my cup
and I drank
its heady brew quickly
becoming intoxicated
by its flow.
I would still remain
transfixed.
Standing in purest clarity
by my doorway.
Drowning in
the falling blossoms
of this moonglow.
The wildflowers tangled
in its mystic light.
Drenched in the sweetness
of the evening hours

This is the time I cannot bear: this silent evening hour
As I shut windows and the balcony to prying nightsong:
In the trance of dim lights, I ride the incense plume
Across whispers and half-thoughts, slicing through
The canvasses of time: that unforgettable house of love
Perched by the lakes, circled by the stream and canal
Where worlds and time stopped to catch a glimpse
Many shades of grey silhouetted against stormy skies
Of swans gliding past fresh ripples across reeds
Drenched in a hundred hues of ethereal moonlight,
Hum of the wind surfing on the waters, drunken voices
Of assorted lovelorn: thrushes, finches, hidden warblers
Majestic storks and herons guarded the secret doors
To eternity, pitched right in the middle of the great city
By the home that housed love in precious embrace
O the cold of the winter that screened for damp corners
In our souls, through meditative shades lining the view,
The home that I squandered, I who love ruins and rubble

i.

Skaidrum, we art lost in the whirlpool galaxy
Thou art far-flung from thy king, me from mine queen;
We hath not much time to get back to planet earth
A black holes in the distance, a new star's birth.

ii.

Skaidrum, friend; no sunlight is to surround us
This place is dusk, how I misseth mine sweet jane;
We hath enough food for a week, and one day's gain
If I were thou, I'd telleth thy king thou loveth him again.

iii.

Mine lass wilt be looking for me, how cold I feeleth
In this spaceship were in, I need Jane's warmth, her tint;
Skaidrum, the nebula's art all around, though no portal to get back home, I prayeth we seeith ourn love's soon.

iv.

Dear Poet, Sir Brandon, Sharpen thy tongue for war
Vigilant stars harbor no pity for separated lovers liketh us,
Lady Jane's lamentation becomes mournful gravity to thee;
Darkness swallows the four corners of mine heart.

v.

Pay no heed to the distances, death; how certainly welcome
As we rideth greek constellations, legends, and vagabonds.
I will bid thou safe travels, poetic wishes, universal footprints;
As thee descend upon the sky ladder to thou's lover.

vi.

I shall followeth in due time, I hear not mine king calling.
Patience goes hand n' hand with deliverance,
In our path of starlit misery; we embarked together as poets
Adieu for now sir Brandon, part with nightsong wings.

©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poets Poetry
©Duo poem by me brandon nagley and Skaidrum
©Skaidrum

I often stare into the sky at shadows on the moon,
with my attention fullest on the days of the full moon.

Discerning craters, mountains on its dusty pockmarked face,
that glows when sun stares winking flares upon the blushing moon.

I squint to find the waveless flag, the rover parked somewhere,
discarded by the shiny humans come to greet the moon.

Her light gives sight so subtle as to soothe and not disturb
circadians whose radians are rhythms of the moon.

Tree silhouettes' slow pirouettes sway by the summer breeze,
bathed in the sun's own afterglow under the watchful moon.

Imagining the lunacy of werewolves in the night
who, bathed in glow, to dogs they go a howling at the moon.

While all around the nightsong sounds in symphony they croon
the ballades of the wonder of the lighted sky queen moon.

(C)2013, Christos Rigakos

I have enveloped you with my dying hands
And everything that might bring you here
From some place in my dreams.

Death would be a cruel death
If I have none to hold, my love.
Truly, my heart still seeks for you:

You, my dearest,
My pain, my breath;
The song that carries me to a long lost echo;
The echo that appears to be my nightsong,
Must curse me:

To bring old painful truth
On lasting new memories,
To bind forgotten lips
On long-forgotten lips,
And to have you--
Though not having you-

Gifted to be as loving as angels,
Gifted to just roam the earth
Without a face,
Or flesh--

Taking the final form...
...of pure love.

© 2010 J.S.P.

The rains came. The road called.
And the cities we coursed through on the way to Ulysses,
to Broken Bow, didn't they always seem to be waiting on a change, longing for us, as if time moved only at the sway of our arms?

The rains came. The road called.
And there was a sanctuary of our own, a quiet place to lay our heads and listen, always listen, to nature's nightsong. How many mornings did we awake to find a new sweet creature in need of a home?  

The rains came. The road called.
And we stopped counting the number of wheat fields we had walked, the caves we had explored, the antique stores we had perused, the cups of coffee we had poured.

The rains came. The road called.
And there were hospital visits, both of joy and joy's opposite.
Time did what time does best, shaping and reshaping the people
we love—and that's what we know best, isn't it? Love.

The rains can come and the roads can call,
and we delight in what we know of love.
Look, love is not a flower with a single season.
Love conjures prehistoric time.
We love not as two,
but as all the men and women who have gone before.
Fathers rest in our bones like mountain ruins.
Mothers carry our blood like river beds.
And the moments that brought us here,
could we even discern the major from the minor?
Why would we diffuse love of its wild alchemy?
Love rivers through us, guided by every path and climate a fate improbable, beautiful, holy, endless, intrepid, guarding, forgiving.

All the heartbroken,
the lonely and the dreamers
all hear the same song in these
early hours of the morning.
We are solitary
yet the night sings us
to sleep or something
more sinister.

The sunflower blooms
Beneath a cold heartless moon
On a deep summers eve
In the middle of june
When the nightsong sweetly swoons
The lark from the bough softly croons
On a deep summers eve
In the dark heart of june
The crow flowers true
In the deep dark and blue
On a deep summers eve
In the hot black of june

Will I get some sleep tonight
While there is such a
tempting night oudside.
Looking through my bedroom window
Inviting sky
moon  disguise and lots of stars
giving me this restless feeling
to flee into the night
meet  the love I never found
Hear the wind passing by
trees are gently moving
leaves rustle softly
while an owl is calling  
creating this soothing melody
Holding a long lost promise
A nightsong  calling out for me
to put at rest
all the restlessness in me
dejavu feelings as in my dreams
I dream forever.

Shell ✨🐚

Yes, Emily, I'm nobody
And probably just as well

The Somebodies of this life
Usually make it a living hell

Solitude is lonesome
But solitude is peace

Birds sing their lovely nightsong
I've been to Dublin, not to Greece

When forever finally comes
Will it come as sweet release?

Please protect my family
Love and fun and sun increase!