#poem #poetry “At the hour when night clothes the earth” #writersnetwork #WritingCommnunity

At the hour when night clothes the earth

At the very gates to this world

Along the borders between this planet and the dark infinity beyond

Where brood unseen menaces unknowable

And pulse the lives of never yet seen beings

Of monsters dragons beasts and intelligences

There abound rumours and legends so fearsome and dire

In multitudes of permutations of battles and wars

Waged with great arsenals of vast arrays

Of instruments of combat and conflagration unimaginable

A brutal subjugation and cruel death

To wreak upon all life that dwells

On this lush and fecund peaceful world

That the wise men prophets seers and judges convened

With the kings princes and rulers

Of this round disc so pleasant so glorious

In courts established in long ago ancient times

And set out battle plans and strategies

For such dread days as these

To repel vernal warriors waging winter season wars

Devised in the coldest reaches of their own empires

The peoples of the earth to safeguard for the duration entire

d.a.simpson ©

#poetry my new #poem “Upon a winter’s day”

Upon a winter’s day arrayed in its finery entire

A bright shining sun of liquid gold bathes the scene

In a gown of glittering blue satin

Embellished by a top layer of fine black lace

Stark black silhouettes of trees

Outlined against a duck egg blue sky

With a deep collar of gold

Red berries for ruby earrings

And a bracelet chain of emerald green leaves

There arrives a large pearl carriage

To whisk the winter’s day to the ball

Where awaits the prince of the night

So handsome in sombre morning suit

With his glistening shiny chestnut hair

And eyes of deep brown that could melt many a heart

The lights from the starry moonlit skies

Glow in his dark eyes of as he catches sight of his fair lady

Gorgeous in all the finery of the season’s most fashionable hues

He sweeps her into his arms

And bears her into the great ballroom of his winter palace

Where the gold light of the princess of the day

Is captured in the glittering chandeliers

Of a thousand of candlelit flames

While the silver mirrors lining the walls

Glister like frosty moonlit nights

Now begins the winter dance of bright days and dark nights

And the darkness slowly consumes

The entire daylight of the slowly waning year

d.a.simpson ©

#poem #poetry “The year opens wide its hungry jaw”

The year opens wide its hungry jaw
And swallows whole one full quarter of the calendar

In a hasty greedy gulp

Catching the world entire completely unawares

Now the fires of many a month ago

Are once again recalled

Sought out and hastily relit

Thick clothes whose whereabouts

Remained gloriously forgotten

Are now avidly retrieved

From their dark resting places

Heavy curtains and blinds that had remained undisturbed

For many a month in a state of discrete folds, pleats and rolls

Are called upon anew

To come into their own once more

And show themselves in full

Thicker bedding is urgently sought out

Within the farthest recesses

Of unimaginably deep storage spaces

And reinstated in bedrooms across the rapidly cooling world

The year rests awhile replete its seasonal meal over for now

And the world slowly journeys onwards upon its relentless loop

d.a.simpson ©

A #poem of mine “High above the world an angry granite sky is panting”

High above the world an angry granite sky is panting

It boils up a vast brew as a horde gathers

Of giant ogres from the hidden kingdoms in the firmament

Empire upon empire of brute steel skies now rise up

Layer after layer in an infinity of light years

Princes and rulers of the vast hidden realms

Shielded by the unbreachable walls of their cities

Built by the bricks of their rapacious appetite for destruction.

Immune from the ferocious burning gaze of the sun

Charge out of their moated castles in the air

Scattering terrified bonded serfs in their thousands

Tending to their celestial duties upon gigantic estates in the sky

Barrel down towards the earth in vast rolls

Of thunderous livid cloud

Rolling through the darkness of the twilight sky

Their fearsome tempestuous faces

Mighty eyebrows blackened by the coming night glower

Angrily hounding like a pack of slavering ravenous wolves

The small humans on the ground who scamper off like mice

Pursued by a cat as they scramble to find sanctuary

In the bright shiny malls and marble halls

Filled with a light of glittering gold

Deluded for a while by shiny trinkets and baubles therein

Lulled into a false sense of security

And deceived into believing they are safe

While the great monsters high above bide their time

Who can strike at will at a time and place of their choosing

And theirs alone d.a.simpson ©

#poem #poetry my new verse “At the hour of dusk”

At the hour of dusk by the very edge of the world

Where the sea vanishes into infinity

There appears a stripe of deep lilac

That matures into a rich indigo

Brooded over by a pale apricot sky

That tapers to a thin streak of glowing gold

Where the two great elements meet

Upon the horizontal line that girds the parameters of the earth

This eventide scene a sublime swan song of great beauty

Dolorous now and much woefilled is the ageing day

As its wends its doleful way

Alongside its perpetual companion

The now resigned and setting sun

It knows it journeys closer and closer still

Towards its own demise inevitable

Never again to dwell within the picture perfect

Sea-skyscape frame of earlier this very eve

Of unique classically perfect watercolour masterpiece so breathtaking

For such a display as this

A one off combination

Of purples and blues of oranges and pinks

Is but a mere chance trick of the light and gases

That will never occur again

However long or short the remaining lifespan of the universe is to be

d.a.simpson ©

“As night slowly draws a veil over dusk” my #poem #poetry

As night slowly draws a veil over dusk

The fading day dons layer upon layer

Of increasingly dark robes and shrouds and weeds of a funereal hue

Appropriate to the imminent demise that confronts the old figure now

Bent and moving with difficulty

Bowed down by both age and grief

Closer and closer it seems to draw to its companion the sea

Perhaps for comfort

Perhaps simply because it is weakened from the effort of dying

As from the blue sky of the day’s younger self

Grew so quickly the symptoms and indications

Of a life ebbing away

Not long left to live now

And then suddenly

The day’s end is reached and is mercifully quick

A handful of gulls attired in funeral rags

A flock of almost invisible black etchings

Against a now unlit sky

Pay their respects in silence

And vanish into the distant eternity

The twilight sky rolls out a thick drape that darkens the world

The colours a glorious triumph one breath ago

Now no longer

The day is dead the night is born

d.a.simpson ©

“A wide empty boulevard” my newest #poem

A wide empty boulevard flanked by trees

Opens up before the night walker

When all is quiet and the world is safely retired to bed

Tall straight backed trees stand proudly to attention

The clean lines of their dark trunks tall and ramrod straight

As they await inspection under a moonlit sky

Each one of a unique character and appearance

That complements and completes this army of wooden soldiers

A thin tree sways in the gentle breeze

Weary from the excesses of the previous night

When gale force winds pummeled and punched their way

Through this woody realm

While the others stare straight ahead

Afeared to turn and see what behoves their comrade

Lest they too be stricken

But ’tis merely a momentary lapse for the wiry trooper revives

The parade breathes a collective sigh of relief and order is resumed

A whisper rustles through the two long rows of branches

Ruffling leaves as it travels down the telegraph line

For the gossips are out in force tonight

They have surfaced to peddle their tidbits most juicy supreme

For the delectation of all those partial

To such delicacies disclosed under cover of dark

Overheard only by the tall dark handsome strong and silent trees

Along with the unseen audience of hundreds of insects and birds

And animals that shelter among the branches

From the elements and from predators that prowl the night scene

d.a.simpson ©