"yesternight" poems
"NEVER shall a young man,
Thrown into despair
By those great honey-coloured
Ramparts at your ear,
Love you for yourself alone
And not your yellow hair.'
"But I can get a hair-dye
And set such colour there,
Brown, or black, or carrot,
That young men in despair
May love me for myself alone
And not my yellow hair.'
"I heard an old religious man
But yesternight declare
That he had found a text to prove
That only God, my dear,
Could love you for yourself alone
And not your yellow hair."
5.4k
Hello moon
I never saw you at noon
😔ain't happy with that
But I will just keep it at heart
You saw her riding
Right🤤🤤
She is a good biker??🥵🥵
Or a rider
I guess she is a good lier
Nov 15, 2020
Nov 15, 2020 at 8:18 AM UTC
Yesternight, I drank much ***
Suffice to say, it was much fun.
But today I pay the awful price,
Of a dented wallet, and swollen eyes.
Dec 13, 2012
Dec 13, 2012 at 3:18 PM UTC
Sweetest love, I do not go,
For weariness of thee,
Nor in hope the world can show
A fitter love for me;
But since that I
Must die at last, 'tis best
To use myself in jest
Thus by feign'd deaths to die.
Yesternight the sun went hence,
And yet is here today;
He hath no desire nor sense,
Nor half so short a way:
Then fear not me,
But believe that I shall make
Speedier journeys, since I take
More wings and spurs than he.
That if good fortune fall,
Cannot add another hour,
Nor a lost hour recall!
But come bad chance,
And we join to'it our strength,
And we teach it art and length,
Itself o'er us to'advance.
When thou sigh'st, thou sigh'st not wind,
But sigh'st my soul away;
When thou weep'st, unkindly kind,
My life's blood doth decay.
It cannot be
That thou lov'st me, as thou say'st,
If in thine my life thou waste,
That art the best of me.
Let not thy divining heart
Forethink me any ill;
Destiny may take thy part,
And may thy fears fulfil;
But think that we
Are but turn'd aside to sleep;
They who one another keep
Alive, ne'er parted be.
2.4k
~
remnants of
afore night’s grieving
before her on the table lie,
echoes of her sobbing
tears from last night's cry;
boxes of his cards,
handwritten letters,
a schoolboy’s pictures,
the wadded tissues
lie in random crumples,
for his silent laughter,
his fading whispers;
the one remaining lock
of hair she used to rumple;
the invisibly present
drying tearful brine
to table salt reduced;
the how remembered,
the when recalled,
the why that's yet
to be deduced.
each a remnant of
her softened weeping,
each a minder of
a mother of a sorrow,
a son-of-a-gun,
don’t-know-if
i’ll-make-it-to tomorrow,
reminders of
a yesternight’s cry;
the remnants of
afore night’s grieving
that on her table lie;
the six-years-ago,
still-can’t-believe-it,
never-ending-long...
goodbye.
~
post script.
*"her smile...
’tis the thinnest veil o'er a razor's edge,
it can ne’er conceal her bleeding heart..."
like the spiraling whirlpool
like leaves bowing to winter
it's palpable, predictable,
a seasonal forecast...
guess it's just
that time of year.*
***for Becky,
for Tonya,
for Andrea,
for all
grieving mothers
everywhere***
Jan 25, 2015
Jan 25, 2015 at 2:03 PM UTC
Last night, ah, yesternight, betwixt her lips and mine
There fell thy shadow, Cynara! thy breath was shed
Upon my soul between the kisses and the wine;
And I was desolate and sick of an old passion,
Yea, I was desolate and bowed my head:
I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion.
All night upon mine heart I felt her warm heart beat,
Night-long within mine arms in love and sleep she lay;
Surely the kisses of her bought red mouth were sweet;
But I was desolate and sick of an old passion,
When I awoke and found the dawn was gray:
I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion.
I have forgot much, Cynara! gone with the wind,
Flung roses, roses riotously with the throng,
Dancing, to put thy pale, lost lilies out of mind;
But I was desolate and sick of an old passion,
Yea, all the time, because the dance was long:
I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion.
I cried for madder music and for stronger wine,
But when the feast is finished and the lamps expire,
Then falls thy shadow, Cynara! the night is thine;
And I am desolate and sick of an old passion,
Yea, hungry for the lips of my desire:
I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion.
[The title translates, from the Latin, as
'I am no more the man I was in the reign of the Good Cynara']
2.3k
Every second,every minute, every hour of the day,I'm thinking about you,My love
All because I'm very much in love with you.
Sweetheart there's nothing else to say
But to tell you that I love you more every day
And I'm thinking about you, every second,
I even day dream about holding you and making love to you
Oh my handsome sweetheart
I even dream about you yesternight.
Holding you in my arms
Having fallen for your romantic charm
In a night so magical full of love between you and I,
Just falling in love.
Passionately kissing you.
And friends says we were once Soulmates and lovers.
But I replied them "we are twinflame"
And I've got those feelings about you
And sweetheart you know I'm in love with you
Yes sweetheart I am.
I'm feeling so much in love with you
And sweetheart
All I wanna do is hold you
And whisper...
I LOVE YOU....
Sep 2, 2020
Sep 2, 2020 at 3:13 AM UTC
When sadly so fades the lonely night
To pave way to the golden dawn light,
In a while, not long, not so long,
Birds embrace the day with a new song:
"The night is fled, the night is gone,
Let us splash in hues of the golden sun,
Let us shake off yesternight's sorrow,
For night is fled, night is no more."
Oct 16, 2017
Oct 16, 2017 at 3:47 PM UTC
A repost:
A Roman poem written before The birth of Christ, inspired the title Gone With The wind
with Scarlett and Rhett Butler
But here you see only old
confessions of a man's true love for his beloved who is all gone
-Or-
(Or a woman's true love for
her beloved runner wishing she could have chased.)
~~~
CYNAR*A.
~~~~~
Last night yesternight, betwixt her lips and mine
There fell thy shadow, Cynara! Thy breath was shed
Upon my soul between the kisses and the wine;
And I was desolate and sick of an old passion,
Yea, I was desolate and bowed my head:
I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion.
All night upon mine heart I felt her warm heart beat,
Night-long within mine arms in love and sleep she lay;
Surely the kisses of her bought red mouth were sweet;
But I was desolate and sick of an old passion,
When I awoke and found the dawn was grey:
I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion.
I have forgot much, Cynara! Gone with the wind,
Flung roses, roses riotously with the throng,
Dancing, to put thy pale, lost lilies out of mind
But I was desolate and sick of an old passion,
Yea, all the time, because the dance was long:
I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion.
I cried for madder music and for stronger wine,
But when the feast is finished and the lamps expire,
Then falls thy shadow, Cynara! The night is thine;
And I am desolate and sick of an old passion,
Yea, hungry for the lips of my desire:
I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion.
~~~~~~~
By:Ernest Dowson
For:RhettlvScarlet.
to honor Karijinbba
in her great loss and healing
of her memory chip.
~~~~~~
Copy Rights.
~~~~
Ernest Dowson (1867-1900) died of alcoholism at the age of 32. His downward spiral began at age 23 when he fell for an 11 year old girl who would spurn him at 14 when he proposed marriage.
The following year, in 1894 his father died from an overdose. Dowson's mother
hanged herself within a year of her husband's death.
Soon after this dual tragedy Dowson left for France before returning back to England in 1897. Curiously he lived with the family of his unrequited love. Penniless, heartbroken and filling the empty voids in his life with alcohol, Dowson would spend the last six weeks of his life in the cottage of the Oscar Wilde biographer Robert Sherard who had found him
drunk in a bar.
Speaking of Oscar Wilde, he wrote after Dowson's death of a,"Poor wounded wonderful fellow that he was, a tragic reproduction of all tragic poetry, like a symbol, or a scene.
I hope bay leaves will be laid on his tomb and rue and myrtle too for he knew what true love
unrequieted love was."
~~~~~
Oct 22, 2018
Oct 22, 2018 at 12:44 AM UTC
The morning brings renewal
And the stream of sunlight
Washes away
The tears of yesternight
Jul 28, 2016
Jul 28, 2016 at 11:36 PM UTC
Sweetest love, I do not go,
For weariness of thee,
Nor in hope the world can show
A fitter love for me;
But since that I
Must die at last, 'tis best
To use myself in jest
Thus by feign'd deaths to die.
Yesternight the sun went hence,
And yet is here today;
He hath no desire nor sense,
Nor half so short a way:
Then fear not me,
But believe that I shall make
Speedier journeys, since I take
More wings and spurs than he.
O how feeble is man's power,
That if good fortune fall,
Cannot add another hour,
Nor a lost hour recall!
But come bad chance,
And we join to'it our strength,
And we teach it art and length,
Itself o'er us to'advance.
When thou sigh'st, thou sigh'st not wind,
But sigh'st my soul away;
When thou weep'st, unkindly kind,
My life's blood doth decay.
It cannot be
That thou lov'st me, as thou say'st,
If in thine my life thou waste,
That art the best of me.
Let not thy divining heart
Forethink me any ill;
Destiny may take thy part,
And may thy fears fulfil;
But think that we
Are but turn'd aside to sleep;
They who one another keep
Alive, ne'er parted be.
1.6k
The wet smell of the earth
was **** enough
I woke up to the moon glow
feasting his eyes
on my silky skin
The sultry feel of the night
covered me like silk sheets
caressing every goosebump on my skin
I tasted you in yesternight's alcohol binge
there were bits and pieces that surprised my tongue
along with my memory
The cigarette stench in my hair
whiffed instances that slapped
the drunk off my face
The crumpled money
harvested ash from the drive
in every crease
The burn marks on my hand
brought back the inhibitions
I felt that night or lack there of
what happened I have yet to decipher
yet, I still remember the blurred lights
that lit my eyes with seduction
one that I shared
with you
on
that
one
night!
Nov 11, 2015
Nov 11, 2015 at 8:16 AM UTC
The violin is in your hand.
It is lifeless. Just a collection
of substances and shape
and style and craftsmanship.
You place one end under
your chin. Pluck a string.
You tighten to get in key
known by ear. You draw
the bow across and finger
the strings. The recital
is later. Beethoven violin
sonatas. Practice time.
You close your eyes.
You know it by heart.
She will be there watching
and listening. Her eyes
all over you. Over you
like last night. Last night
yesternight betwixt thy lips.
You practice on and on.
You pause. That last
passage haunts. You play
it over and over. Enough.
You put away the instrument
and close the case. You
close your eyes and picture
her lips gently on your face.
Mar 29, 2018
Mar 29, 2018 at 3:36 PM UTC
Back yard porch light
Burns bright with a dim light,
Amongst the hollow trees.
Shadows swimming out of sight
malicious in their whipping bite,
Calm the forest that can not be.
A flutter of flurries swarms the night
I'm improching on the source of white
Free the moth that's not your moon.
So soon be gone my dusty paresite
Flee these woods of wrong turn fright,
For soon that light will be your guide to stay.
And your moon will dull and fade into the starlight
Beseech your home, it puts up a fight,
Away away you flitter the fray.
Your dusted coat of chalk sheet blight
tethers away like thoughts of yesternight,
Leaving specks of musk alomg the tree line.
Mar 24, 2015
Mar 24, 2015 at 4:14 PM UTC
It can be amazing,
It can be pure.
Other times,
Dark and sinister.
The green radiates brightly,
Contrasting the brown of the bark,
Sparkling in the light of the sun.
White wisps of cotton,
Lie on the bright blue blanket,
Called the sky.
The golden orb suspended in the middle.
A new day has come,
Leaving behind all the excitement of the past.
The night before brought mystery, love, joy
For once the dark,
Brighter than the light.
If asked to choose...
Yesternight!
Jun 11, 2015
Jun 11, 2015 at 3:01 AM UTC
I sought you in heartbreak
I sought you behind doors
I even sought you alone
in the dark where my
candle light shone
I sought you in my hell
I sought in my heaven
I even sought you
when I mentally traveled
I sought you for therapy
I sought you for peace
I sought you when no drugs
could bring any ease
I sought you in times of anger
I sought you in times of love
I sought you when battles twisted
my tongue with wars
that were not worth of
I sought you in my sleep
I sought you in dreams
I sought you with pens and pencils
aching to fabricate futures
that exist in my mind
where they fixture
I sought you drunk
oh, I did
I created love stories
fantasies, tragedies too
even some ***** thoughts
that my mind could not endure
I sought you in confusion
hoping as stanzas flow
so will the solutions too
I sought you in prayer
on paper, on walls
on my palms too
so that when I lay my hand on my chest
my heart could read them
and beat in rest ...
I sought you in others
prodigies and peasants
I sought you in twisted art
and wordy inspirations
I sought you boring afternoons
and rowdy dancing
I sought you in my memory
hoping you'd stay
and make it to my paper
I sought you in song
I sought you in blank papers
I sought in 4 am's
when my mind is diluted with chemicals
that danced with every idea
every thought
before it flees with dawn
I sought you in him and her
I sought you in messy bedsheets
and crisp bright dawns
when my skin crawled
with goosebumps
reminiscing about
yesternight’s
escapades
Aug 16, 2016
Aug 16, 2016 at 12:35 PM UTC
my humble coat of truth
as smile of pouring skies
which moment dots the scape
curves upon a prize
for speaking tints of red
rainbows in disguise
flashing trod her dreams
kiss her sky goodbye
linger as fog of dead
which seems to keep alive
through strings of steely charms
memories of yesternight
i ache as boiling pain
as pleasure fills my eyes
seep in the tears of past
as moments tranquil fly
i risk the heights of sun
through rumblings of our lives
what breaks upon as rain
as poem it survives
Dec 6, 2013
Dec 6, 2013 at 4:19 PM UTC
*It rained cats and dogs yesternight
The moon curled up in fetal position in fright
Covered by think blankets of darkness her sight,
Lulled to sleep she rested contemplating her plight.*
Apr 19, 2017
Apr 19, 2017 at 2:03 AM UTC
“I broke with the virtuality yesternight”.
Your hands as numb as the winter of some unreached epoch;
as traumatised as the rays of this moon—
borrowed and leaden.
Diddering by the cold morrows of life,
your soul is already downfallen,
out of the blue,
by this last good-bye.
You are through the endless seasons of fall,
with no spring foreseen,
your spirit at stake;
your fall, an eventual doom.
Your eyes are drowning in the ocean of death,
where even in the best of the boards, you're wrecked.
While, I stand as stiff as mountains,
with the same impoverished gesture of last adieu;
concieted by the delight of pain bequeathed to you.
You are the object of my empirical yet conjectural fortune—
that, I poetise now.
In your heart, broken, lies my dwelling destroyed,
and I would soon find myself mislaid or a doomed grave.
Oct 21, 2017
Oct 21, 2017 at 5:19 AM UTC
It's almost a decade now
But it seems like yesternight
Stone blind giving up his life for me
Deluged in the abyss forever
A part of me he took with him
Though gone,but I sense him
He seems so real,so evident
He is everywhere I think
My imaginations ****** up of him
Insanity getting better of me
I'm an embodiment of illusions
Powerless,my life shreds away
How will I make it stop?
pain, pain go away
Come again another day.
pain, pain go away
Let this agony fade away
Because my eyes has emptied the water in my body
My trangular life preaches pills, potion and coffee
Tell me, can you make it stop?
Like tattoo the scars wont stop from showing
And like Mississippi the tears won't stop flowing
How will I make it stop?
I'm swimming in my pool of tears
I can hear the reverberation of your voice, of how you cared
You gave me love, then you added pain and despair
I feel like tearing my heart into pieces to stop it from aching
I'm on fire, no amount of CO2 can quench
If there were a soothing balm, I'd rub my heart with it.
I want to heal.
How do I stop this misery?
How do I make it all history?
How do I make it stop?
©Rhoda ❎Drunk_Poet ❎Bob_Tony
Apr 10, 2019
Apr 10, 2019 at 10:03 AM UTC
it was so unbright yesternight in the closed nook of a pale painted swinging
swung tight, tightly swinging, quickly singing, breath of fast hair
from the timid article of light uncorking from thy precious bowl:
your remarkably hips. i quipped a sonnet on the marble jelly of your
cresting gluttonous ******* with my hands between the stocky virulent
oaks of your frail gently thighs. and your eyes were scorching, and the
breadth of hours tumbled open and wee
Mar 28, 2011
Mar 28, 2011 at 12:04 PM UTC
P picture perfect paintings
O of openmouthedness
oversimplication
E evolving erudite
eclamations
T terminal tepid
translations
R rancid rich rauccous
Y Yearning yesternight's
yottabytes
Nov 2, 2018
Nov 2, 2018 at 5:27 AM UTC
Early Morning coffee
Reminds you of that your life
up to now has been full of bitter
But there's no time to be a quitter
Early morning coffee
Reminds you of those steamy
Moments you had with your girl
When you both went for a twirl
Early morning coffee
Reminds you of that the dark,
scary, murky yesternight dream
Can be lightened by adding cream
Early morning coffee
Reminds you of the strength
That aroma you bring everyday
Your boss' is stronger, but that's okay.
Early morning coffee
for me is certainly
a good way
to start the day.
Oct 27, 2017
Oct 27, 2017 at 4:43 PM UTC
I did not sleep
Well yesternight.
Weary were my eyes.
Guilt taunted me
Until the morning,
And called me
A disappointment.
I did not sleep
Well yesternight.
I could not comfort
You in your state of fear.
I am sorry.
Originally written in 2010
Revised 11/23/14
(c) 2014 Brandon Antonio Smith
Nov 23, 2014
Nov 23, 2014 at 4:50 PM UTC