"nightwatch" poems
My love, this is especially for you, I hope you will like it. With love from, Sylvia / Mijn lieve, dit is speciaal voor jou. Ik hoop dat je het leuk zal vinden, liefs van Sylvia.
as highest as the Chomolungma in Himalaya region
as magic as this Mount Everest correction
as huge as the Nightwatch of Rembrandt
as imposant as the Niagara Waterfalls when you shall land
as friendly as the Ricefields on Bali Island
as generous as the Space Needle together with Manhattan
as lovely as the puppet dolls my fiancé gave me in Jakarta
as beautiful as my wild Rose's voice when speaking about Indonesia
as wonderful as Serfaus at wintersport-season
as warm as Granada could be on Summerdays without a reason
as romantic as Venezia on dark nights
as cool as Paris sparkles in Autumnal lights
as truest as Jesus died on the cross at Calvary
my love for you so loyal as Plath's words, no fata morgana
so honest as Picasso's own Guernica
it means only most important and precious to you and to me,
this I tell to you as my only trustee and devotee.
Truest love ever known, most loyal ever shown !
I have told you all these with the help of God, amen.
Sylvia Frances Chan
Aug 10, 2015
Aug 10, 2015 at 8:50 AM UTC
Watching...
The night
enter a fresh new realm.
The same day is cast in different hue...
Vibrance in colours dissipate...
Siphoned,
consumed by the dark.
Watching...
And feeling my presence
blend into nothingness.
This night reeks of
blatant nonchalance.
Careless shadows stretch and dance
as I wrestle with my vision
to determine mindless silhouettes.
Watching...
The trailing taillights
of nocturnal traffic.
In my city that never sleeps.
They simply disappear into the dark
with each tick of the hand.
Watching...
The half moon,
eaten away by the void.
Minutes elapse into eternity.
And seconds beat hard
upon my bastion of hope.
Watching...
The ground
that lay quiet before me.
This earth that bears my weight...
This earth that has my shadow
shackled to my feet...
Offers nothing but quiet solace...
Fighting to calm the storm
in my head.
Aug 30, 2016
Aug 30, 2016 at 10:45 AM UTC
It all disappears
replaced by a phantom,
the flickering light of a coal miners lantern casts its shadow along the black halls and it all disappears.
Bevan would spin in his grave knowing his lads could not save what remained of his dream,
and in the lean light of lamplight the nightwatch calls midnight,
and it all disappears.
We were born into a world that exploded with light emitting diodes,and nuclear power,turbines that whine in constant revolution,
a green world, a clean world, a world fit for tomorrow where the future is born from the ashes of sorrow and these tears we would borrow from the seeds that we sow ,
and it all disappears in the fears of the many,of those, who if they had any hope,have it no more,where the door is locked and the bolt is drawn against this brave new dawn,and sometimes it feels like I never was born ,
but created from eggshells and no one tells me that I'm wrong.
Cracked open my breath breaks away, and the inside exposed,peeled like the petals that rose on some bloom,the shrivelling doom, a vast mushrooming cloud,
and it makes me feel proud,
as it all disappears and we all fade away.
Nov 12, 2013
Nov 12, 2013 at 12:51 AM UTC
the brave look to the dawn to
see the fruit of their endeavors....
the frightened look to wash clean the awful marks
of their fear from their faces before the
dawn exposes their true nature......
she looks to the dawn with her hopeful heart
still wrapped in her lovers scent......
he looks to the dawn as the embers of
the camp fire still glows with the
memory of the nightwatch
lonesome with his horse as silent companion.....
the wise man can read the days true face in the
turbulent clouds of daybreak.....
while the fool sleeps soundly in the
shallow waters of delusions warm and
comforting dream.....
the drunkard stumbling homeward
in the mist of his mind
looks to the dawn's glare with a tired yet
often muttered prayer that this be the last day of his suffering....
the wholesome man already taken his place in the factory line
see's a splinter of the dawn in the poisoned air in this dark room
quickly returning to his labor lest he loose all he has gained
and wishes for better days to come....
each of us must look to the
breaking dawn
with what truth or lie our hearts yearn
what strength or weakness is in our soul
each must find a path in the breaking dawn
hand in hand with another
or strongly by our own
and see in dawns turbulent clouds
a bright future to kiss us upon the cheek
Oct 26, 2016
Oct 26, 2016 at 12:52 PM UTC
There are thieves, collectors, repo men,
bandits and marauders in the night
trying to take your life away from you
to sell it for a pittance.
You must fight them off with your fiercest guns!
You must ***** the hearts right out of their chests!
The shrieks right out of their throats!
Send them scrambling back into their own darkness!
If something comes to take your life
****** it back with equal terror.
You must stay up, vigilant, keeping a sharp eye
on all you have until the morning
can come again.
Mar 6, 2014
Mar 6, 2014 at 11:33 AM UTC
nightwatch
moon shadows
toss
moon tides
turn
what time is it
nightwatch
flip the pillow
tuck it here
tuck it there
nightwatch
creep quietly to the couch
to read until
night sounds conjur
a mystery . . .
images fade
welcome the dream
dogs barks
why do we have dogs
check the nightwatch
daybreak
sigh
what compells the day so quickly
when there has only been a
nightwatch
Mar 28, 2021
Mar 28, 2021 at 12:54 PM UTC
Back roads like my image seem destined for only past reflection for ive burnt the image within the depths
of a dirrty song and a broken soul.
Track marks warm feeling can you embrace my day eternal and gather my sense for just one more write.
Can i hold it togather just for one more night?
Im sorry i cant speak within these confines lets give madness a manic spin in a shallow crowd.
As a dim lit room the wine will flow sangria's fire can you replace that which I no longer control?
It used to be freedom now it only is a action like some trained monkey or circus animal i know the routine but never do i thrive as once i did befor.
As for passion it's as dead as my voice that echos within this tomb.
Do you know what it is to die twice.?
I never did thirst for the norm and now im overwhelmed by rejection it's so very hard to run on junkies leg's.
Page I can only spoil your plessure for the well has went dry leaving only a fool with a tin cup to die of thirst beside you.
Another summers play ive passed more thoughts unwritten to a audience of stars .
When words dont connect there simply empty call's apon the wind.
But a fools yerning is but a role and this play has been cast for another.
I hope you understand that which makes me only question in a paranoid late night haze.
The nightwatch no longer my own time has come for me to step aside.
Jun 18, 2012
Jun 18, 2012 at 4:26 PM UTC
the streets are full of hours
the hours filled with a labyrinth song
our faces risk a strange engulfing
we are so benevolent with lying to ourselves
my love has a dervish spin,
my mind is on a nightwatch
down the rabbit hole
so loud the world its disparate pulses,
unbearable conundrums
we should learn more from tears
what if my love is the worm
inside the apple
what if your love is oblivious
like an empty womb
all I have is this feeling
like a spine. of course
certainty is not in fact possible
especially on untouched
lips
Sep 10, 2023
Sep 10, 2023 at 3:49 PM UTC
i.
From the east, I rose towards the sky
What time is it? It's nightwatch time!
From behind the clouds is where I lie
I gazed down on the mortals
As they sleep soundly and feel comfy.
But...
Amidst the deafening silence of the night,
I heard uncontrollable sobs yet no one's on sight.
Someone's cowering in the corner of a room!
I took a peek and then,
I saw you, covered in gloom.
Oct 12, 2019
Oct 12, 2019 at 3:24 AM UTC
wait long enough
for whispers to slide
behind trapped colors
remember how to burst out from chainlink
a pebble speaks silence perfect
dislodged from the angel's ****** throat
paragraphs of rain
pages of grey winters
a shrewd plea sneaks in
restless like a sincere nightwatch
written by furtive moons
waiting for the next swift eclipse
to sun stain alien sand
everything dead waits to be hit by shine.
This is it
a misprisoned child
escaping wisdom's dark house
on the deep face of silence
I stole expressions from Buddha's still pond.
Forest green eyes
curls around his ribs
forces him to listen
long vines of prose
jail cells can never take away
feel it rip puzzles to jigsaw
slice me like a spiked saw
tainting midnight's first sun born child.
Meet me in a meadow of new fresh colors
so we can reinvent ourselves on carousel of wonders dripping bright sparks into sink holes.
In wild quiet soil
brightness cannot conceal its majesty
be harmless as summer darts
beaming across a doorway.
Open like switchblade
nothing to hide
some still look at you
suspicious hunted curious
walk through darkness
watch broken fangs from sharp bulbs
light up anyway.
Down corridors of lightning
whiffs of burnt Eden
a bright companion dragged through
broken nail sands
dressed in white rags
when you look close enough:
Everybody cut in half
like confused air
haunted in twilight
nail biting silence
hoping for peace to land
Feb 2, 2019
Feb 2, 2019 at 8:26 PM UTC