Poem Review: Twilight
Welcome to Ponder 2024.
We shall start with the moment that people are told not to drive. Twilight.
The tired evening sky or the fresh dawn is the period we call the twilight. But mostly, in the literal sense, twilight is the beautiful moment between two stages of fullness, day and night. It is a dalliance of sunlight with its shadows. It is the moment when the night and the day make love, and that love breaks away into myriad colors of softly diffused sunlight.
Poetry is about bringing these myriad colored moments of the sky into an exploding spray of words. If I were to say that I could find a popular fascination in this moment of tranquil transition, you would not be surprised.
Here is proof. I have packed this review with five short poems, including mine, to explore the beauty of this moment between day and night.
Poem 1: ‘The Timber of Caile’ by Malki Andrews (Edelweiss), explores the mysteries of feminism and nature while unveiling them against the twilight sky;
Poem 2: ‘Lullaby’ by Chloe Douglas describes how we chase light till dusk and then wait for the lullaby of the night;
Poem 3: The physics and physical aspects of the night sky from dawn to day and dusk to night, and back, bring out the cyclical nature and dome-like structure of the sky, connected by twilight, as brought by the poem ‘From Day to Sunset’ by Raymond Foss;
Poem 4: A short poetic piece ‘Poem for the Night’ by Jacob Berghoef how the day welcomes the night during the twilight;
Poem 5: A response to the above, ‘Life Beyond Sunset’ from Ashok Subramanian about how birth and death are interconnected in a moment of transition at the point of twilight.
Let us enjoy these colorful verses that intertwine the beauty of the moment with the depth of its meaning.
Poem 1: The Timber of Caile
The other day,
I wandered afar
Into the deep, beguiling woods.There stood a solemn tree
That bore a feminine form
“The Timber of Caile”:
Was the whispered name.An eclipse of moths flew out
To the twilight of the sky
Unveiling its hollow of stern
Then, the heart of moss lay within.| M.M Andrews
Commentary on Poem 1:
Mystical and mysterious. The evening twilight, in particular, captivates us because of its silent, yet deep transience between light and darkness. I have stood there, on the cliffs and stared at the deep ravine, and then the mountains beyond. Lay in the ravine and on the mountains are the mysterious woods.
I took this picture below, among others, and the feeling of magical mystery was unveiled through the silhouettes close by and the layered colors at the horizon.
I walk tentatively with the poet as she wanders into the woods. Like the ones in the deep ravine, the woods are filled with mystery in their dark depths; there are no clear paths, and one could easily get lost. Imagine the dwindling light of the twilight, and we walking between thickets and stepping on foliage — beguiling indeed — the fear of getting lost creeps on us; every noise, every breaking of the twig sends a shiver down our spine. This is the time the nocturnal creatures of the forest come to life.
Twilight in a forest can be mysterious and menacing. But, here we are, along with our poet Malki.
There stood a solemn tree
That bore a feminine form
“The Timber of Caile”:
Was the whispered name.
The mysterious woodlands have a central figure. A solemn tree that stands proud and divine, like Artemis herself. Her name — is ‘The Timber of Caile’, the name floats in whispers, uttered by the breeze that hisses past our ears. But, as it has been vogue, ‘Timber’ is a masculine word — it reflects the ‘ingredients’ in a person who can stand up to adversity and strife.
In trees and men, good timbers grow.
Where thickest lies the forest growth,
We find the patriarchs of both.― Douglas Malloch
Women possess this timber too. If timber is about the ingredients that we need to face adversity, then women are no less. ‘In trees and women, good timbers grow. Where thickest lies the forest growth. We find the matriarchs for both.’ And so here she is — The Matriarch of the Forest, standing solemn — the Timber of Caile.
Caile is an ancient name meaning courageous. The tree, the Matriarch, stands alone and courageous, and her timber strong and sinewy, with her roots spread deep and her branches wide, standing like the Goddess herself.
An eclipse of moths flew out
To the twilight of the sky
Unveiling its hollow of stern
Then, the heart of moss lay within.
Moths are nocturnal creatures that seek light. The twilight, weak and mysterious, and even fading, is still strong enough to attract the moths. The moths lived inside the Timber, but as the poet approaches, they fly out. The moths who have been nesting in the darkness, swarm and fill the sky like an evening eclipse.
An ethereal feeling descends like a transition is about to be born. First is the fading luminance of the twilight, and another is the explosive flutter of the moths that just left. Now, we look at the Matriarch — the Timber of Caile. The moths have left behind a hollowness in her stern, probably eating her timber from the inside, like cancer eating human cells from within. But, deep inside, there is the ‘heart of moss’, the lush green growth within, thriving in the darkness and dampness of the hollow. We see both decay and growth in the same place.
If we consider this as a metaphor, the Matriarch ( and any other woman) has a host of challenges within — physical and mental, but within the same physique, they carry hope for life.
Poet Malki’s deep and evocative poem inspires me to draw out more from her words, but as she signs off with hope, which I want to hold onto. If there is hope for life like the moss within the hollow of the timber, why not visit the twilight moment again in the next poem, where Poet Chloe chases her dreams against the twilight sky?
Poem 2: Lullaby
Chasing the sky
To capture the light
In a moment’s eye
I thought I’d fly
Along the horizon
And back again
The day is done
Night’s just begun.
©️Chloe Douglas, 20–11–23
Commentary on Poem 2:
If night is the time to dream, day is the time to do — chasing those dreams. Dreams and desires are packed in this exhilarating verse.
Chasing the sky
To capture the light
In a moment’s eye
I thought I’d fly
Along the horizon
And back again
The poet desires to take the challenge of ‘chasing the sky to capture the light.’ The light transitions from birth, creating long shadows and blushing blazes of the morning, reaches the zenith, and then moves towards its end during the twilight, setting off a repertoire of colors in the western sky.
The poet’s endeavor to chase the sky and capture the light is an ambitious task, but not impossible. But she knows the outcome…she pivots, and proposes to fly along the horizon, beyond which the light escapes to disappear. Chasing the sunlight is an impossible task, but the poet is still persistent.
“Once you have tasted flight, you will forever walk the earth with your eyes turned skyward, for there you have been, and there you will always long to return.”
― Leonardo da Vinci
Imagine Poet Chloe, flying like Icarus, reaching the horizon and back, chasing the sun, yet letting go at the last minute — the wisdom prevails that we can chase a dream, but it is prudent to return once we figure out our limits. Yet, the next day, we shall chase another dream. That is why, the day returns. But there is more…life is beyond this chase.
The day is done
Night’s just begun.
The chase is over, and we have returned to our earth. The twilight is about transitioning from chores to rest and dreams or more…even partying. This world never sleeps.
“Yet, as only New Yorkers know, if you can get through the twilight, you’ll live through the night.”
― Dorothy Parker
The twilight is when we make our choices for the night. Sleep the night through or savor it. What would be your choice?
From the ‘living’ aspect of Twilight, how about tapping into another dimension — the physics and psychological perspective?
Here we go.
Poem 3: From Day to Sunset
There at the horizon,
The daily progression,
the circle of the Earth,
the arc, our mortal coil…From day to sunset coming,
From sunset to twilight melting
From twilight to dusk falling
And From dusk to night
The curtain is drawn…The Dome of the Sky,
The measure of the horizon,
The changing of the guard,
Getting ready to begin…Now night gives way,
From night to dawn breaking,
From dawn to Twilight melting,
From Twilight to sunrise, waking,
Finally, From sunrise to the new day…~Raymond Foss © 2024
Commentary on Poem 3:
Twilight is like a colorful bus station where some celestial bodies like the sun get off, and the moon and the stars arrive. What goes around comes around here. Poet Raymond travels along the Dome of the Sky, racing with the sun, to discover that time, in a sense, is cyclical.
There at the horizon,
The daily progression,
the circle of the Earth,
the arc, our mortal coil…
While Poet Chloe tries to fly to the horizon in an ambitious effort, Poet Raymond looks at the horizon and realizes the confluence of physics with philosophy. At the horizon, where things seemingly end, the curvature begins. The sky arches because Earth is circular (ellipsoid) and curves into oblivion, but ends at the horizon. Between these two antithetic perspectives (curving as an arc into oblivion, but ending at the horizon), we see our mortal coil. The Earth’s travel along space and time is helical in shape, in a sort of elliptical corkscrew. But this eternal spinning journey ends for us when we all die — hence the ‘mortal coil.’
From day to sunset coming,
From sunset to twilight melting
From twilight to dusk falling
And From dusk to night
The curtain is drawn…
Imagine sitting on a seashore, perhaps under a tree. The ocean is the still part, despite the waves that awash the shore. The drama is in the sky. From the mild yellow of the morning to the azure blue of the day, till the amber sunset, the scene unfolds. At the sunset, the act changes. A flame of orange bursts as the last act of the sun, then slowly collapses into a light show of myriad colors — purple, turquoise, yellow, amber, orange, crimson… the most magical, free daily show on earth. All we have to do is to look west.
Then the scene changes again. A somber view of set in — a sense that the climax is over…till it is not. The vibrancy of night slowly sets in as the next act and for that, the curtain is drawn. What would be the act when the curtain opens again?
The Dome of the Sky,
The measure of the horizon,
The changing of the guard,
Getting ready to begin…
It is not only the curtains that change — but the entire roof — the Dome of the Sky changes, from the somber diffusion of orange, pink, and purple to darker hues, and finally black. The horizon that connected the sea and the sky now disappears into the darkness of the night. The actors change — the tired birds that fill the twilight sky, flying to their nests are replaced with mischievous stars twinkling and chiming like kids in a nursery.
Now night gives way,
From night to dawn breaking,
From dawn to Twilight melting,
From Twilight to sunrise, waking,
Finally, From sunrise to the new day…
The acts of the night happen in dizzying darkness but for the nocturnal lives, this is normal. They go about their business till the nocturnal show reaches its climax. The first lights of dawn appear, bringing the dark scenes to an end — the nocturnal animals turn in, and the slumberland awakens. The dawn’s rays are like the stars — mischievous and colorful in the twilight but start behaving sober and properly just before their parent — the sun rises, starting a new act all over.
The whole episode is cyclical, and we end up where we started. The twilight, hence, is an act in a never-ending drama on the stage called the sky.
From its philosophical and physics dimensions, let us explore the artistic dimension of twilight in the next poem.
Poem 4: Poem For The Night
The dying sun
colors the sky with a poem
to welcome the night~Jacob Berghoef
Commentary on Poem 4:
Poet Jacob brings poetry alive in the twilight sky. It is easy to summarize the poem in a short commentary, but I will try reaching out to each enjambment to bring more juice out of the poem.
The dying sun
From its birth at dawn to its death at dusk, the daily incarnation of the sun is a given, yet each day is different. The death of the sun, whose afterlife lasts till dawn, leaves us in the dark. In a sense, we all die when we sleep, entering another realm — a slumberland filled with dreams. A perfect afterlife… and we will get to that.
colors the sky with a poem
The twilight is the diffusion of light snuffed out of the daily sun, and with all its white and yellow blaze now gone, the dying embers turning into purple, amber, and orange. Scroll up to look at Poet Jacob’s artwork. His artwork speaks. His poetry is visual. He has painted poetry and composed art.
No wonder, the colors make the verses. Now, what is in colorful verse?
to welcome the night
The verse is a welcome message to the night. If we personify the sun, it is like somebody loving death for its colorfulness and living a welcome message to the incoming, inevitable end. Do we call it an embracing welcome? People may welcome death when they have lived a life without regrets.
The sun has done all it should during the day, shining and providing for living beings, illuminating its planets. Its departure to the afterlife is a journey after a life well lived.
There is another perspective: The night, the afterlife is a cool, black, diamond-studded blanket, wrapped around the dying sun, in a posthumous honor for the hard-working, familial, sacrificing star.
This poem spun my mind — short, simple, and evocative. Why could I not resist a response?
Poem 5: Life Beyond Sunset
I wrote this poem in response to Poet Jacob’s. It turned out to be a simple, yet deep poem about life and death in the changing colors of the sky. Priya Patel, my dear friend consented to my request for reviewing this poem and responded forthwith. Below is her piece.
Your poetic words
Written in the twilight
Will of the dying sun
The birth of the night
When stars come to life.~Ashok Subramanian © 2023
Commentary on Poem 5:
It’s been quite a while since I’ve written a review and writing one for Ashok is a treat. He is the one who introduced me to the importance and relevance of picking apart and giving a third-eye view of a poet’s writing or thoughts. It not only gives other readers a possible new perspective but also is an encouraging way to lift and support a writer. It just feels good, to review and be reviewed.
Life Beyond Sunset — just the title itself makes you take a deep breath and sigh. It’s a simple 5 line poem and the theme is basic; life comes alive after the sun goes down; but I see so much more; especially knowing the author like I do. I tend to read far beyond just the words and dive into his eyes, his days, and the everyday thoughts that we share.
“Your poetic words written in the twilight” — I imagine myself, after a long day at work, sitting at the edge of a mountain, overlooking the sea and waiting for the sun to set. All the stresses of my day blow in the breeze as the sky turns from baby blue to burnt orange and peach jubilee. Ribbons of yellow weaved between the orange and peach sky; making poetry in the sky. In the twilight, we ache for the peace of a pastel sunset to take our stresses away.
But then the sun goes down and the sky is freckled with twinkling stars. “The birth of the night when the stars come alive”. This is when hope comes alive when roses become wildflowers when we dare to believe our lives can be different.
It’s a breathtaking poem that leaves the reader hoping and dreaming.
~ © Priya Patel 🕉
Twilight Tryst:
Twilight. The tapestry of transition. The palette of the Gods. The celebration of birth and death. The boundary between deeds and dreams. It is a moment of myriad opportunities.
“For age is opportunity no less
Than youth itself, though in another dress,
And as the evening twilight fades away
The sky is filled every day with stars, invisible by day.”
― Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, The Complete Poems of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
It takes a day to reach and live through the evening twilight. Let us live the magic every day.
~Ashok Subramanian © 2024
