Midnight

This poem is 8 years old. I am merely posting for the sake of sharing what used to write those days. For new poets, this is proof that we evolve (or devolve) in our writing. For all old poets, stop laughing

Pray hold on tight,
My dear.
Darkness arrives, the stars shining.
Hear silent winds blow,
As the dark blankets over
And silence, noticed,
As the solitary moon cast light,
The only light,
In a world so dark.
So lonely, so silent,
So tranquil, so mysterious.
With millions of stars above.
But none to hear my whisper of secret,
A soft flow of air with a thousand meanings,
Meanings immemorial, meanings of mystery,
As the chill of the midnight air tickles your face,
And for miles on end the land barren, deserted...
Not a single soul, all asleep,
In the deepest slumber of the night
Not one sober, or even conscious...
As the dark grey mist envelopes the sky,
And the moon slowly hiding away...
As it gets darker, squeeze my hand tighter...
What mystery may lie beneath millions of stars
And a moon, smiling...
Being the third to know a silent secret...
A secret kept in a world illusionarily secure,
As winds rustling on dry leaves spread fear,
Of what lies beyond, what insecurities still dwell...
What may happen, what will happen...
Embrace me tight, and sleep well, my dear...
Leave your fear to the whisper of the wind,
Tonight is another night,
Sleep tight...

Reviews

[J. James Reider]

you seemed so apologetic in your description... you should not be... this is a piece of work that I would be more than proud to call my own... love the use of an oxymoron... hear silent winds blow... poetry is all about putting a puzzle of words together and you seemed to have found all the pieces for this poem... oh yea, anyone who thinks you can't hear silence... you are wrong... silence can be deafening therefore it can be heard... solid piece man... I enjoyed it!

[None]

This is really enchanting. I love the descriptions and you bring me into the feeling of night.
"And a moon, smiling...
Being the third to know a silent secret...
A secret kept in a world illusionarily secure,
As winds rustling on dry leaves spread fear,
Of what lies beyond, what insecurities still dwell...
What may happen, what will happen... "
I really loved the words you used to bring this all together and you enveloped such emotions in this. Excellent poem!

[Emily B]

psst. . . between 15 and 33 I wrote nothing. I could never post anything from that first time. It's too horrible to contemplate. This is really very good.

[Poeticpiers]

Well written descriptive prose which deserves to be called poetical I enjoyed the ambience you create ivor

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This was very good. I liked the images you made with the words you used. This was very good!

[robin]

Illusionarily secure? Poeticaliticaly interestingated. I like this "poem" I think it's more like a dialogue than a figure of speech. I think it would work both ways too. As it is here it is as though this person whispers it closely to an intimate friend. It is imperfect speech like dialogue. If it were reworked to be a stronger metaphor, and descriptive words were chosen more precisely, perhaps more sparingly, I think it would be a fantastic coup.

[Angela]

I really like this. It's good. Full of sincere thoughts and quiet expression.

[Deborah Leah Krempa]

A very enjoyable read. Thank you for sharing. Debileah

[Ralphy]

This is warm, touching piece. I enjoyed your expressions and quality of thought.

Nice piece.