Buffeted by storms of daily life
You yearn for that little respite
When your day is finally done
And preparations for rest have begun
Mind and body in a delicate dance
Unwinding, fading into waters sans disturbance
The ups and downs of the day
Yielding to restful somnolent sway
Ghosts that cannot for long be held at bay
Slowly make their entry into dreams’ play
Mixing and matching people, feelings and events
Trying, of life to make any sense
Still waters dark and deep
Not a wave, not a ripple in a 360o sweep
Buddhist moments of bio-nirvana
Nothingness defines the body Shangri-La
Having drawn succor from deep within
You wake up refreshed soul and skin
A new day has now arrived
And you are ready with your battle cry!
You yearn for that little respite
When your day is finally done
And preparations for rest have begun
Mind and body in a delicate dance
Unwinding, fading into waters sans disturbance
The ups and downs of the day
Yielding to restful somnolent sway
Ghosts that cannot for long be held at bay
Slowly make their entry into dreams’ play
Mixing and matching people, feelings and events
Trying, of life to make any sense
Still waters dark and deep
Not a wave, not a ripple in a 360o sweep
Buddhist moments of bio-nirvana
Nothingness defines the body Shangri-La
Having drawn succor from deep within
You wake up refreshed soul and skin
A new day has now arrived
And you are ready with your battle cry!
3 comments:
Amazing! Such a lovely poem.
I’ve not read this before. It is brilliant, creative, subtle. Every word is artful and thoughtful.
I think it compliments LongFellow's "The Day is Done," so well and carries the baton further and returns to the start of the new day.
This poem is an homage to Longfellow’s The Day Is Done, which celebrates the night as a sanctuary from life’s burdens. Longfellow’s poem reflects the healing power of simplicity, advocating for heartfelt poetry as a balm for the restless soul. Through vivid nature imagery and a calming rhythm, it gently guides readers from the cares of the day to a state of peaceful reflection, where “the night… filled with music… and the cares… silently steal away.”
In The Night Has Begun, I’ve tried to capture the universal need for rest and renewal amidst the storms of daily life. The poem begins with the fatigue that many of us feel, transitions into the calm of dreams and stillness, and concludes with the reinvigoration of body and soul—a full cycle of rejuvenation. Lines like “Ghosts that cannot for long be held at bay / Slowly make their entry into dreams’ play” evoke the subconscious mind at work, processing the highs and lows of the day, while the final stanza’s rallying cry bridges the transition from repose to action. While Longfellow focuses on art’s ability to soothe the restless mind, I wanted to extend that theme into the physical and spiritual renewal that sleep provides. My imagery of “still waters dark and deep” and “Buddhist moments of bio-nirvana” reflects my voice, combining classical tranquility with a modern lens of introspection and renewal.
This balance of effort and repose is central to my exploration of life’s journey—capturing both the need for quiet restoration and the readiness to rise again with a “battle cry” in hand. Together, these works reflect the harmony and rhythm of the life arc I continue to explore.
Here is the original:
The Day is Done
- H.W. LONGFELLOW (1844)
The day is done, and the darkness
Falls from the wings of Night,
As a feather is wafted downward
From an eagle in his flight.
I see the lights of the village
Gleam through the rain and the mist,
And a feeling of sadness comes o'er me
That my soul cannot resist:
A feeling of sadness and longing,
That is not akin to pain,
And resembles sorrow only
As the mist resembles the rain.
Come, read to me some poem,
Some simple and heartfelt lay,
That shall soothe this restless feeling,
And banish the thoughts of day.
Not from the grand old masters,
Not from the bards sublime,
Whose distant footsteps echo
Through the corridors of Time.
For, like strains of martial music,
Their mighty thoughts suggest
Life's endless toil and endeavor;
And to-night I long for rest.
Read from some humbler poet,
Whose songs gushed from his heart,
As showers from the clouds of summer,
Or tears from the eyelids start;
Who, through long days of labor,
And nights devoid of ease,
Still heard in his soul the music
Of wonderful melodies.
Such songs have power to quiet
The restless pulse of care,
And come like the benediction
That follows after prayer.
Then read from the treasured volume
The poem of thy choice,
And lend to the rhyme of the poet
The beauty of thy voice.
And the night shall be filled with music,
And the cares, that infest the day,
Shall fold their tents, like the Arabs,
And as silently steal away.
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