Music of the Night

Love and Romance

Here, on this side of the valley, the night
spreads her jeweled dress upon the ancient
lake beneath the Autumn moon.

I can hear the lapping of the waves upon
the grassy banks, while Zephyr dances
on the diamond-crested billows, and crickets

chirp their strange songs to the stars.

Here, on this side of the valley, the night
spreads her mystery of ages upon the lives
of men, sparkling ciphers over cloudless

sable skies, as she has wont to do since
Time first was and man and woman fell
in love beneath a bright new moon,

spell-bound, as we now are, by
breathless beauty and the music

of the night.

--(c) Copyrght Jim Valero, 2012.



Love loves the dark
For only then it is alone with it’s beloved
It’s enchanting melody
Sweetly playing on the breeze
A nocturne of lovers
The music of midnight
When shadows hold no more fear
Where there is no time but right now
No time at all
When lovers can run away
Away from the world
And revolve around each other
Like the moon dances around the earth
So they dance also
The stars shine above for them
For the night belongs to lovers

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What Lurks Within


In the darkness, something stirred; inside the long, cold void of unending night, it whimpered and cried; gasped terribly as it shuffled around within the hell of sightless agony. Against distant walls unseen, its bellows of sorrow clawed madly, slashing savagely, as though to desperately escape from the horrid suffering of loneliness and pain of hunger that would never die. In the darkness, no sight existed, no light existed; nothing existed that could take the safe blanket of night away from him, as he cowered in fear of the lurking death; as he shivered in terror, hoping it would pass away. In the night, the fear lived on.

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Nox Sacram

Twilights know our name
so speak soft our fame.
they know my shadows sight
of crisp shade and blessed flight.
under star-light shine
to darkness I confide;
for at dawn's first light
we close our sight.

Now stalk the night
and keep to flight.
To preform our rites
and cast our mistress' sight
by bitter blade
and the blood left to fade.

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Midnight Neon Love Bug

Windows tend to speak to me after certain hours.
What they say is troubling, if only just for now;
because it's all about the dark that's left when suns forget
and lull into a hapless sleep on the other side of spheres.
They speak in volumes, tomes and missives,
blaring like an idled train,
and say to me, "you'll stay alone
because you're somehow worse than yesterday."
Their voice, like glass, is very thin
and barely reaches toward the bed.
Cadence crackled, hoarse and whispered,
yet still it finds the nape of neck,
the ear of the loneliest man in the room,
and the strings which pull at his heart.
"Alone is what you are and were --
alone is what you'll be forever."
I reach for something heavy, solid,
stone-like with a fit to hand,
to lob at blackness closing in
through where I let the breeze intrude.
Yet as there is nothing near,
besides the cat,
and because I am so tired, and so tired of fighting,
I'll roll on one side and bundle close,
enjoying the company of all these pillows I've collected.

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Just An Echo

Night brings weight that lays upon
the bed beside me, and despite me
it finds room to stretch and yawn
while I am forced to yield the sheets.

Day brings reason to wake and rise
and to ignore, or dare implore
the burden near to improvise
and share its many unmet needs.

When it speaks in muffled voice
and begs for love, or something of
substance that will come by choice,
I see it's just an echo.

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Love Without Words

One, two, step
one, two, step
dancing ever close.

One, two, step
one, two, step
not even a word to say.

Hands held together
and eyes interlocked
two lovers in the night.

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Waning Crescent: A Poet's Reverie

Tonight the moon is on waning crescent;
it hangs on the eastern sky like a sharp steel
wedge against a backdrop of unlight.

There are no stars in the perimeter, only
a slight cool breeze, the last remnant of winter
cold--nowadays the seasons have lost
their senses, acquired a tendency to drift,

while the moon goes on waxing and waning,
as it has, since she came out of the earth's crust
four point four million years ago.

Tonight I drive my old Ford under the wedge
of the old moon, drifting like the seasons
through half-deserted streets--streets not long
ago fraught with people and traffic and suits.

Out here in the perimeter the grand trees sway
in the cool breath of June, unhurried by design,
moving in slow tempo to the soft cadence

of the night.

Was it like this eons ago when you and I,
in far other guise, roamed the silver valleys
of the moon, whispering like the leaves

under huge skies? with thoughts too strange
to share in this supernal spot of Time, this
conjunction of times, this unfathomable universe?

Perhaps beyond our limited perceptions,
in the night's huge exhalations, other selves,
other lives, connected to our own, take

their being, and return to us on a cool
night like this, when the moon is on waning
crescent, and there are no stars in the perimeter,

just the grand trees, unhurried by design,
all a-sway in the cool soft breeze of June.

--Jim Valero, 03/19/2012.

Our Love Is Dying

You’re miles away from here
Unable to see me shed a tear
Facing this cold night alone
Hoping you’ll answer your phone

Where is the man I adore?
Who makes my heart soar
He’s disappeared from home
And left me in the dark to roam

You say that you’re the same
But he didn’t care about fame
Love was something cherished
Not something we let perish

You wear your uniform well
While I’m left alone to dwell
On the days of our past
When everything moved fast

We would slow dance in the night
But now we just scream and fight
You would whisper poem in my ear
Now it’s your voice that I rarely hear

But don’t worry Lovely, I’ll hang on
With only memories to think upon
I’ll be brave and stay by your side
And in my writing I’ll confide…

…That our love is slowly dying

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This is a small thought progression poem that I had while trying to talk to my boyfriend who is currently serving in the marines.

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