and now down she goes
blaze of gold turned slowly red
as she lays her light
to solar bed
pinks and mauves
enlight the sky
as daylight breathes
a final sigh
and dusk arises
that mystical time
neither day or night
when everything rhymes
when shadows fail
as trees disappear
and dark begins
night draws ever near
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Author:
dusk arising (
Offline) - Published: July 26th, 2019 00:04
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 42
- Users favorite of this poem: Poetic Dan, Fay Slimm., Laura🌻.
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Comments10
A beautiful message of a sweet sunset!! Well done dusk!
That magic of dusk.... special time, fleetingly quickly over.
I was there, a wonderful time was had.
And may you be there on many many more wonderful times sir!
This poem painted me a very vivid picture. and it was spectacular.
With a name like mine sooner or later i was going to have to write a piece about dusk..... et voila.
A fine write dusk. You may not like me saying this: 'But who made the sunsets and sunrises then?'
If you still believe in the fairy tale Genesis then you are frankly a fool orchidee... Just remember that the old testament is a collection of stories written by mankind.... you may surround yourself in pious quasi religious poetry and hymns but the only persistence is you persistently failing to see the bleedin obvious.
Well, what I often go by, as well as Scripture, is a quote from a wise monk: 'Subject your reason to faith'. I.e. put faith above reason.
My man! What a great flow, really enjoyed this and start my day fresh. Letting my rhymes of the day, shine like the sun and moon all the rest for a bit of fun!
Thank you!
Dusk can be magic on the shore, with a restful four legged friend or two to keep you out of mischief.
Simply beautiful this description of dusk... into my faves. with this one D.A.
Oh my Fay. Thank you so much. That really does mean such a lot to me.
your muse is nocturnal then...
lucky you and all those of us who find this page.......... Neville
A cliche maybe but my muse is life itself lived on this beautiful world. Thank you Neville.
not a cliche in my book .. I think we share the same muse.. or she us....
d a ,
A wonderful read.
Your poem excellently describes the hours I favor of a twenty-four hour period...of late...
“and dusk arises
that mystical time
neither day or night
when everything rhymes”...
~Laura~
Yes, light fades and shapes lose colour to become a compliment to each others natural form/shape hence 'everything rhymes' Dusk appears to rise up from the land rather than fall from above.
Pleased you popped in and enjoyed this.
Isn't is amazing how the pastel colors of dawn, become brilliant at dusk...
... yes dusk, like autumn, are my favorite times.
Your pen is far more poetic than mine
Dusk - fleeting and enigmatic - a magic ever changing earthlight.
They say photography is all about capturing the light. Then poetry must be capturing the light into a word picture i guess.
This is beautifully composed- enjoyed immensely.
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