Dark Night of the Soul

Image

http://mollasse.deviantart.com/art/The-dark-night-of-the-soul-143787633

Dark Night of the Soul

Close the door after you enter
and sit with me in the shades;
the corners hide
the fragility of our words
and the silence of the room
won’t tell anyone about us.

Come, come closer
let us celebrate the death of misery.
In the candlelight,
let us mock her
while she
furious that she can’t get in,
screams like a heartbeat
of a hanged man.
Let her fight for us this time,
untouchable,
sip the wine and let us chant of victory,
before we have to walk outside again
into the darkness that
is but never was
yet always will be
ours.

Listen
the mother of tide shines down
on the grasshopper
chewing on the leaf in the garden,
in a circle, in a cycle,
rinse and repeat
just like the hum of our veins
boils in rebellion
and hungers for the saturated field
of plums.

Forget.
The photographs of me
on fulcrums with loneliness,
painted smiles
and past lives left in Venice.
Everything is in the corridor,
waiting patiently
to be born again,
to restart it’s mechanism
and take away little bits
of our sunshines,
or our liquid testimonies,
it does not matter for it.
Speak to me now,
of journeys and marigolds,
now when nothing can hurt you,
but yourself.

Do not count,
Embrace me and breathe.
never mind the cataclysm.
never mind the promises.
My soul like a solitary prey
covets this sanctuary,
this dark concrete wood
frozen within a moment
we can pretend we stole away.
The first climb into the tower
is the hardest,
the whips of time, merciless
corrode you.
Not here. Here you can trust
everything to be nothing
yet still something
inside everything that is yours.

Leave the rope.
Leave the reason.
Leave the fear.
Leave the music box.
Leave love forgotten,
love remembered,
love sought for.
Leave the shivering November,
the sobering rain,
necklaces, pendants and
brush off her tokens from your skin.
Leave everything
outside,
come in, sit close to me
and drink the youth from my mouth,
like the wounded do.
Like twin flames do.

Close the door after u enter.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Tamna Noc Dushe

Zatvori vrata nakon sto udjesh
i sedni samnom u senke;
Uglovi ce skriti
fragilnost nashih rechi
i tishina sobe
nece nikome reci za nas.

Dodji, dodji blize,
proslavimo smrt patnje.
Pod svetloshcu svece
rugajmo joj se
dok ona
besna sto ne moze uci
vrishti kao otkucaji srca
obeshenog choveka.
Neka se ona bori za nas ovaj put,
nedodirljivi,
pijmo vino i pevajmo o pobedi,
pre no sto opet moramo hodati napolju
u tami koja Jeste
ali nikad Nije, ipak Uvek
ce biti nasha.

Slushaj.
Majka plime sija na
skakavca
koji zvace list u bashti.
U krug, ciklus,
ponovo nanovo,
bash kao sto shum nashih vena
kljucha u pobuni
i gladuje za zasicenim poljem
shljiva.

Zaboravi.
Fotografije mene
na tackama oslonca sa usamljenoshcu,
naslikane osmehe
i proshle zivote ostavljene u Veneciji.
Sve je u hodniku,
cheka strpljivo
da se ponovo rodi,
da ponovo pokrene mehanizam
i uzme nam male delice
nasheg sunca,
nashih technih svedochenja,
nije mu bitno.
Govori mi sada,
o putovanjima i nevenima,
sada kada te nishta ne moze povrediti
osim samog sebe.

Ne broj.
Zagrli me i dishi.
Nije vazna kataklizma.
Nisu vazna obecanja.
Moja dusha kao samostalni plen
zudi za ovim utochishtem,
ovom tamnom shumom od betona
zamrznutom u trenutku
za koji se mozemo pretvarati
da smo ukrali.
Prvo penjanje u toranj
je najteze,
bichevi vremena, nemilosrdni
rdjaju te.
Ne ovde. Ovde mozesh verovati
Svemu da bude Nishta,
ipak Neshto u Svemu
sto je tvoje.

Ostavi konopac.
Ostavi razlog.
Ostavi strah.
Ostavi muzicku kutiju.
Ostavi ljubav zaboravljenu,
ljubav pamcenu,
ljubav trazenu.
Ostavi drhtavi Novembar,
kishu koja trezni,
ogrlice, amajlije
i ocisti njenu uspomenu sa koze.
Ostavi sve,
napolju,
udji unutra, sedi mi blizu
i pij mladost iz mojih usta,
kaosto to rade ranjeni.
Kao sto to rade srodne dushe.

Zatvori vrata nakon sto udjesh.

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~ by Oloriel on June 5, 2013.

51 Responses to “Dark Night of the Soul”

  1. Love it.

  2. “just like the hum of our veins
    boils in rebellion
    and hungers for the saturated field
    of plums.” <– That's brilliant! This entire poem is!

  3. I would love to hear this spoken! Such wonderful rhythm to the lines, and haunting imagery — screams like a heartbeat of a hanged man… wow! I also love the dichotomous nature of the poem — a dark night of the soul, layered with sombre imagery, and yet — and yet — it’s more a celebration — a cleansing, celebrating the death of misery, forgetting past loneliness — a true time of testing and renewal.
    This may be my favourite poem of yours yet. I absolutely love it.

    • Finally got some time to reply to comments without speeding through them,so forgive the late reply. I am very glad you liked this and I am very glad that you noticed the darkness and the light play, the battle, the victory,the defeat. This poem I think depicts my entire life from being born till now and to be honest, I was afraid it will pass by unoticed, but thanks to you and rest lovely people frequently visiting this den of mine here make me feel less invisible and I thank you for that.
      I’m of to write you a mail now 🙂

  4. Do not count,
    Embrace me and breathe.
    never mind the cataclysm.
    never mind the promises.
    My soul like a solitary prey
    covets this sanctuary,

    fierce, demanding…your passion is infectious
    this poem should be spoken on a small darkened stage.

    • Thank you very much for your continuos visits, your support, your sharing and your kind words, it means a lot to me. If I was to perform this in front of an audience, I would only do it at a special little place I saw in Sienna, at like 8 pm, sun breathing its last atoms and night taking over its reign 😀

  5. Jako lepo!

  6. Ahhh! This is amazing! It played like an intense song with moving lyrics as I read it. Fabulous!

    • Thank you very much for your words, I appriciate it a lot and yeah, i do wonder how would one envision a melody to accompany this 😀

  7. “and sit with me in the shades;
    the corners hide
    the fragility of our words
    and the silence of the room
    won’t tell anyone about us.”
    My fav part, such images, love it 🙂

  8. Izbegavam da komentarišem poeziju, ali ovo me je zaista “ponelo”.

    • Hvala puno na komentrau Goste, jer mi nekako pokazuje i daje sigurnost da se kroz ovu Tamnu noc ipak prolazi,do Svetlog dana.

  9. mozda je ” tamna noc”, ali je i velika moc duse.

  10. “Come, come closer
    let us celebrate the death of misery.
    In the candlelight,
    let us mock her
    while she
    furious that she can’t get in,
    screams like a heartbeat
    of a hanged man.”

    i LOVE this!!!
    so intense, so full of dark, beautiful images. wonderful poem.

  11. Beautiful and so full. I especially like the ending — drink the youth from my mouth…like two twin flames…

  12. This is so beautiful! This image really speaks to me:
    “…screams like a heartbeat
    of a hanged man.”

    I also love that you have it in two languages. Great stuff, thank you for posting.

    Marya

  13. Powerful, sensual, dark and mysterious: wonderful piece of spell-binding writing. Amongst my favourite lines/sections? The mother of tides …
    But the punctuation and form are so well managed.More please?

  14. My soul like a solitary prey
    covets this sanctuary,
    this dark concrete wood
    frozen within a moment

    WHEW! KEY WORD “COVETS” POWERFUL WORDS!

  15. “I leave my heart at your doorstep.
    Bathed in your words, let it be cleansed.
    Let it
    be.”

    the journey you took me through, through this poem. I’m speechless.

  16. Video sam Walt Whitmana i njegovu bradu u stihovima…
    Plezent saprajz, a tek sam dve pročitao ovde…

  17. How?! How all these amazing words are born in your head? Its outstanding. A hint of jealousy from me.

  18. I got goosebumps reading this. You create such expressive phrases and beautiful imagery.

    • Thank you very much for taking time to visit, read and leave me a word of your own, it means a lot to me and I am very content that you liked what you read 🙂

  19. You’re very talented, Oloriel. A feast of images 🙂

  20. jedan divan talent right there !!!!!!!!!!!! 🙂 🙂

  21. i literally got PHYSICAL CHILLS reading this. excellent! you know a poem is good when you wish you’d written it, or one just like it, don’t you?

    • Thank you very much for these words, I am always very happy when someone takes from their time to let me know how they felt reading my poetry!

  22. […] Dark Night of the Soul (olorielmoonshadow.wordpress.com) […]

  23. […] poem was written by Mirjana Miric Inalman (Selena Oloriel Moonshadow), and the music was written by […]

  24. […] the featured artwork for Luna is by Selena Oloriel Moonshadow and incorporates stock […]

  25. […] finished, and I hope to share it with you soon. For now, though, enjoy this new piece of artwork by Selena Oloriel Moonshadow using an original photograph by Zoe […]

  26. (another long comment, don’t feel the need to respond if you are busy, or respond at length, is something that can go for any one of my comments, for future reference)

    I love it! thanks for referring me to this poem.

    It reminds me of the song “Headed For The Door” by Moonface, one of my favorite songs by the singer Spencer Krug (he’s been in a ton of bands, like Wolf Parade, Frog Eyes, Moonface, Sunset Rubdown, etc.). He actually has a letter in the lyrics at the end of the song, that reminds me of a relative I used to be close to.

    “Headed For The Door”
    by Moonface

    She was only twenty three
    Or she was only twenty four

    I headed for the door

    She was looking through old photos on the floor

    And I headed for the door

    I had seen her move this way once before

    And I headed for the door
    I headed for the door

    She was searching for an answer but the answer was a war
    I headed for the door

    I headed for the door
    And I headed for the door
    I headed for the door

    And there was blood
    And there was gore
    I headed for the door

    There was some ugly shit in store
    I headed for the door

    There was a forest on fire inside her
    There was no reason to give to the poor
    And if you think the road is dangerous
    Then of course it is
    You gotta listen for the cautionary roar

    I headed for the door
    I headed for the door
    I headed for the door
    And I headed for the door

    Dear Sara,

    I’ve heard that you turned into a goth, and I think that’s great if that’s what makes you happy. At home there are black boots with silver buckles that I don’t wear anymore, You can have them if you want to. Also, I wanted to ask what, if anything, is fluttering in your heart? I wanted to ask if it has to be a black crow or a vampire bat or if maybe instead it could be a kite that has broken loose from a string that you are holding or a string that we are holding sometime when we were teenagers or maybe in our early twenties. Could it be a kite that has rollen over and over and over on itself in the sky like an unborn baby that is slowly turning into a god and then it turns black and then something we are not even sure we are watching then for sure absolutely nothing at all?

    Get back to me though if you have a chance

    I hope you are doing well

    X O X

    I love these lines:

    “Forget.
    The photographs of me
    on fulcrums with loneliness,
    painted smiles
    and past lives left in Venice.
    Everything is in the corridor,
    waiting patiently
    to be born again,
    to restart it’s mechanism
    and take away little bits
    of our sunshines,
    or our liquid testimonies,
    it does not matter for it.
    Speak to me now,
    of journeys and marigolds,
    now when nothing can hurt you,
    but yourself.”

    It makes me think of the poster of a painting in my living room, of a river taxi in a Venice canal, painted solely in shades of blue, under the moonlight. There is a ferryman in the center of it, with no one else, that makes me think of Charon. The passage sounds like drinking from the River Lethe, before being born again. Really the whole poem does, and reminds me of my favorite poem of my own. What do you know, the favorite poems of our own, are similar in themes! Mine was heavily inspired by a fan video of Katatonia’s “Lethean”, that I shared once in a post on which I think is where you revealed that you are a Katatonia fan. It was the one with the animated paintings.

    January 5, 2015

    “Lady Lethe, Madam Mnemosyne”
    by Ry Hakari

    Black-and-Blue Heart-Canvas Tankas I :
    February 1st,
    cursed to endlessly rehearse
    the Winter’s still-birthed
    Spring siren’s sing, scents of myrrh —
    The beckoning of Her lure

    Spring I — Face Painting & Time Spent Retracing Sonnet :
    Maid and swain in sync
    with their favorite
    painting reveries,
    language failing them

    Similarities
    we could speculate
    infatuating
    over the same face

    Immaculate, yet
    with forgetfulness
    from the River Lethe,
    the worth lost on us

    of less friends, more guessed
    captured by the brush

    Black-and-Blue Heart-Canvas Tankas II :
    I’m trapped on my shelves
    “Myself” is this Hellish cell’s
    wishing ne’er-do-wells’
    pluralist dreams of grotesque
    grandiosity repressed

    Summer II — The Full “Wolf Moon” of January 5, 2015 Recalled Sonnet :
    with melancholic musing,
    effervescent bliss, mirth’s mist
    smearing canvas dreams — Inklings’
    in realities eclipsed

    twilighting Mnemosyne‘s
    Memento mori‘s kiss, which
    is mortality dwelling,
    reminiscing with past tense,

    remembering we must die
    eventually — Swallow
    our pride expired, that while
    passes on to the next soul,

    is received secretly — Lives
    immortalized in the flow

    Black-and-Blue Heart-Canvas Tankas III :
    The devil in me,
    Ivy-eyed, called Jealousy
    (also known as Greed)
    has twenty-two shades of Green
    names for shadowing Envy’s

    Autumn III — The Shifting Balance Sonnet :
    confusing true blues,
    “burning midnight oil
    in Fugue states ruin
    first impressions, foist

    lips reversing Fugue”,
    states one who enjoys
    not having to choose
    their poison’s names joined

    Hush ending our lines
    in silent weeping.
    Willow bag worms climb
    Ouroboros’ ring

    The circle that chimes,
    tolled infinitely

    Black-and-Blue Heart-Canvas Tankas IV :
    Crazed Blue’s craving Red’s
    hues of warmth over absence
    of it, being left
    with cold shoulders and to guess
    what to have love is like dead

    Winter IV — The Uncoiled Ouroboros’ Elongated Haiku Sonnet :
    Maid and swain in sync with melancholic musing, confusing true blues
    with their favorite effervescent bliss, mirth’s mist burning midnight oil
    painting reveries, smearing canvas dreams — Inklings’ in Fugue states ruin
    language failing them in realities eclipsed, first impressions foist

    Similarities twilighting Mnemosyne’s lips reversing Fugue
    we could speculate Memento mori’s kiss, which states one who enjoys
    infatuating is mortality dwelling not having to choose
    over the same face, reminiscing with past tense, their poison’s names joined

    Immaculate, yet remembering we must die, Hush ending our lines
    with forgetfulness eventually — Swallow in silent weeping
    from the River Lethe, our pride expired, that while willow bag worms climb
    the worth lost on us, passes on to the next soul Ouroboros’ ring

    of less friends, more guessed is received secretly — Lives the circle that chimes
    captured by the brush, immortalized in the flow, tolled infinitely

    Black-and-Blue Heart-Canvas Tankas V :
    Black-hearted canvased,
    love’s masterpiece disastered
    shaded Blue sadness,
    blending hues of Red passion
    with degrees of Green jaundiced

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