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2012 November PAD Chapbook Challenge: Day 2

Categories: 2012 November PAD Chapbook Challenge, Poetry Prompts, Poets, Robert Lee Brewer's Poetic Asides Blog, What's New.

Day 2′s prompt comes from Khara House.

Here’s Khara’s prompt: Write a full moon poem. The full moon might be a character or symbol in the poem. Or the poem might address what happens during a full moon: magic, mischief, madness, etc.

Robert’s attempt at a full moon poem:

“Moonster”

Nevermind the words they write about us
or the stuff hidden from our view. All these
beautiful people unleashed on the world
are nothing compared to you. No magic
spells can turn us into monsters, and no
transformations will ever make me hide.
In the middle of the night, when the sun’s
reflecting bright, I’ll be your satellite.

*****

All right, get poeming! And be sure to visit Khara’s blog.

If you need a little music to get in the mood, here are some of my favorite moon songs:

Also, in case you missed it on Facebook, Poetic Asides was mentioned in the November issue of O, the Oprah Magazine for the Wednesday Poetry Prompts. Click here to read the article.

*****

Follow me on Twitter @robertleebrewer

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About Robert Lee Brewer

Senior Content Editor, Writer's Digest Community.

221 Responses to 2012 November PAD Chapbook Challenge: Day 2

  1. ivywriter says:

    Still getting caught up. Here’s my moon poem:
    see all of my poetry at: http://marchthirtyone.wordpress.com

    moon landing

    for all you old heads

    debbie harry sang about the tide

    being high

    before she decided to move on

    but what about when a hurricane

    barreling down the street

    knocking on your door

    causing life to come to a standstill

    so that you can’t move on?

    who’s responsible

    for pleading your case

    to the man in the moon

    to keep the tide

    from getting too high?

    usually we like it when

    the sun, the moon, and the stars

    are aligned in our favor

    but when they’re

    aligned for disaster

    who will manage the clean up

    of the hearts, the souls, and the lives

    that have become debris

    along the Atlantic?

    c) Kellea Tibbs and march thirty one, 2012. All Rights Reserved. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of original march thirty one material without express and written permission from the author and/or owner is strictly prohibited.

  2. Juanita Lewison-Snyder says:

    full moon
    by juanita lewison-snyder

    wondrous orb
    chasing after me down a blackened highway,
    pitching stars like pixie dust at my childhood
    to shield and protect me and my younger sister
    as we lie on our stomachs in the back of an old station wagon
    staring out the window searching for the man on the moon
    whispering “close your eyes, close your eyes.”
    were the oceans near, you would command the tides
    to simply rise and separate me, like yolk from egg whites
    saving me for the chocolate cake that i deserve in this life.
    but for now, heavy eyelids beckon
    and i drift, dreaming of orbs.

    © 2012 by Juanita Lewison-Snyder

  3. SharoninDallas says:

    In France

    Boudoirs and champagne, on the terrace, my Love.
    Clasping hands neath the moon above.
    Hearing the music of swans, of lakes, of love
    As clouds tear across that moon above
    The black forest below, lost in the glow. . .
    Of coming night.

  4. Paoos69 says:

    The Full Moon that Night
    The Italian mosaic was shimmering
    In the full moon that night
    The rabbit on the moon
    As if saying, “Romance is in the air!”
    There was dancing, there was music
    And I looked on, as you stood there
    In a dark purple gown with silver sequins
    Lighting up the night along with
    The heavenly sphere in the skies
    I just looked on, daring not to come beside
    And say even a brief hello
    You were laughing and talking
    Like the whole world was yours
    Beautiful, alight
    The clouds caressed the full moon
    I, in the mind, you
    That’s the least I could do
    With you as you
    And I, a mere gazer
    Of the full moon that night.

  5. chrsye says:

    Moony Outside

    Moody in the hue of blue,
    Sad and angry and bubbling like brew
    I’m not happy with the day nor the night,
    I can’t stand the whiteness of the moon
    Shining in my face, in the mirror
    And in the faces of all those muther bruthers
    That say they want to give it to me, give me the moon,
    Give it to me all, give me what they don’t want to take
    What they’re mamas would never allow

    I don’t want the moon far and distant,
    I want what you have, the right to any promise,
    And actually have it happen. I want to be president.
    I’m tired of the ups and downs, tired of the mesmerizing
    Ebb and flow, the pull from the moon taking control.
    I want it still and dark, with more
    Than you can imagine
    Happening under the surface
    I want to know the moon isn’t all this world has to offer.

  6. Hannah says:

    Posting links this time…also playing catch-up… :) So nice to see poets out and about!

    http://wordrustling.wordpress.com/2012/11/06/day-two-full-moon-a-haiku/

  7. Developing the Moon

    Images flash across my memory
    like eyes shuttered behind filmy glass
    I dip each grainy moon in watery casks
    only to hang in dark rooms
    where we are left to drip

  8. shellaysm says:

    “Full Moon” (Fibonacci Poem)

    Full
    Moon
    demands
    attention:
    lone, forlorn starlet
    in effervescent platinum

  9. sonja j says:

    Full Moon

    The whole time you’ve been sleeping,
    she’s been watching. There are stones
    and there are stones, but yours is the kind
    sitting gibbous on the skyline. You show
    your fullness in the dark parts, so she thinks
    that if she only waits a few more days, if
    she can bide, then she will see the future
    rising, pale and white and open.

  10. Meeaugraphie says:

    I took a bit of liberty with the “moon”, but it was where I was led.

    Mooned

    Harmless prank
    Muffled giggles

    Drunken dare
    Guffaws belched

    Car window or field of grass

    Back to others
    Hands yank pants
    Bare skin flashed

    Moon’s ethereal status

    Eclipsed by man

  11. po says:

    Moon Dust

    On the full moon
    you can see the fingerprint
    of God.

    Everywhere the near
    winter is on fire–
    over the palace, over the hut.

    Eventually the face in the moon
    turns everything to dust.
    But tonight the heron on the lake

    flashes black and white from
    the shallows and everywhere
    light reflects light.

  12. Khara House says:

    There are so many great responses to this prompt! Thank you so much, Robert, for using it.

    “Bad moon rising”

    The sky pops
    with a perfect
    blood orange
    the night your
    bones turn
    to copper
    and rust
    beneath
    my fingers.
    You snap
    like a Kit-Kat
    between
    my palms.
    Tonight
    I’ll roll you
    like a dime.

  13. bluerabbit47 says:

    Blue Moon

    It was still summer
    and still a little
    too hot to be
    out at noon
    here in the
    high desert
    of Colorado.
    We woke early
    and drove up
    to the edge
    of the city
    just below the place
    where the valley
    evaporates against
    the sudden edge
    of the Uncompahgre
    Plateau. Over
    the blue Grand Mesa
    to our right,
    the golden sun
    was rising, while
    to our left, over
    crimson cliffs,
    the blue moon,
    proud and full,
    was going down.
    In silence, we
    stood still
    beside our little
    car and felt
    the inexorable
    turning
    of the Earth.

  14. Full Moon

    In the timeless equation,
    one plus one equals one,
    I always lose at least half
    of myself, somehow. It
    was different with you—
    I look back and think
    that, somehow, you
    collected my essence into
    you, and I didn’t lose any
    of myself—I just gained
    all of you, somehow,
    while the full moon burned
    high above and scorched
    me into banked embers.

  15. Glory says:

    Lady Moon

    The
    moon’s soft
    light, dancing
    shifting shadows
    that transform the night,
    illuminate corners
    lost to darkness in misty
    evening mellowness, as autumn
    sheds its gold and russet leaves to pile
    in velvet heaps beneath a starry sky.

  16. The Wired Journal says:

    It happens every month
    When the moon is shining bright
    He comes to visit and tells his tales
    Confesses his sins and begins to whale

    I try to make it clear
    His sins are in the rear
    He now walks in light
    Even in the darkness
    Of the blackness of the night

    A thousand hail mary’s
    I tell him he must say
    This will be your penitence
    For the sins confessed today

    Go now you, and sin no more
    But fore you do I must warn you
    Be always Thee aware
    For sin knocks at your door

    Bless you friend I say and I wave
    And be not thee afraid
    May he keep you and he guild you
    In his ever-loving ways

  17. CarolineD says:

    In search of Moonlight

    His anticipation builds
    as the moon waxes
    to that moment of assignation.

    But tonight the sky is thick
    with cloud. The street-lights
    pour sulphurous yellow light.

    He will have to wait
    another month. Dispirited
    he retires to bed.

    He wakes in blackness.
    There on the carpet
    a thin line of silver.

    The cloud has cleared.
    The moon shines towards him
    through a chink in the curtains.

  18. Nancy Posey says:

    Time Is out of Joint

    Scientists,
    Magicians,
    Mathematicians,
    Clockmakers
    must have struggled to divide the days,
    to find the sun’s
    absolute zenith,
    discerning the patterns,
    invisible, recurring
    day after day.
    Shepherd,
    Sailors,
    Lonely men
    must have memorized the whirling patterns
    of the stars, somersaulting
    across the night sky.
    Twenty-four hours,
    twice twelve,
    no two the same
    as sunrise and sunset
    squeezed
    the days shorter
    and shorter,
    then relaxed and stretched them out again
    like taffy.
    All the while,
    that crazy old moon,
    patron saint of lunatics,
    sometimes stayed over
    into the sunbright sky,
    a sly silver eye
    wide open,
    eavesdropping on the day.

  19. Natalija says:

    Revealed

    In thine light it’s revealed
    all that’s concealed
    lying here before thee
    as time so long ago

    Crazy as it might seem
    the light from your beam
    draws me closer to seeing
    what I thought was no more

    How could he not know
    those feelings would grow
    despite decades apart
    would come to haunt me tonight

    In thine light I now see
    all that could not be
    just as your light fades
    as night turns to day.

  20. shann says:

    A Modern Love Poem

    does not depend on proper nouns,
    a full moon-boon companion blend,
    nor big band sound authority
    make-it-real inculcation begs.

    No, current trends insist we take
    our curiosities outside
    for air, bare our skins in public
    until we stand invisible.

    The shadow cast by nothing is
    a moth’s breath, the footstep of fish.
    Words can be infinitely moved
    meaning nothing, garbled nonsense.

    Tell everyone this poem is yours,
    how I handpicked each turn of phrase.

  21. joann555 says:

    SHADOWS

    shadows of memories forever linger in my mind
    as a full moon shines in a black sky
    your image illuminates my life forever

    little one, you were a brilliant sunlight in my eye
    casting your own radiance and joy on my face
    your sweet image illuminates my life forever

    living, loving, hoping with an energy so huge
    seeking, searching hoping to find your own
    your beautiful image illuminates my life forever

    beloved, you are still my splendid constant
    how you’ve grown so wonderfully, my baby
    your lovely image illuminates my life forever

    shadows of memories forever linger in my mind
    reminiscing you brings such joy and warmth
    your image illuminates my life forever

  22. seingraham says:

    Of Luna’s Healing Ways

    She sits cross-legged in the teepee, summonsing:
    Quietude, strength and Luna –
    Her meditative stance belies her location, placed in front of one
    of the busiest hospitals in the metropolis,
    She has sought sanctuary in this temporary home of her people,
    needing to get in touch with her roots, and her moon

    At the top of the conic structure, where the supports meet
    There is a hole which would normally allow smoke to escape
    But tonight she needs no fire and instead, views the night sky
    And eventually the brilliance of a full moon she feels
    She has called down herself to bring her peace and energy

    In silence she studies the beauteous orb, feels the tug
    In her bloodstream – the age-old pull she knows the tides
    Receive nightly from Luna as well – as misty clouds
    Scud quickly in front of her face, obscuring Luna’s perfection
    Momentarily, they manage to cloud her mind too

    It makes her wonder whether her beloved Luna is indeed
    Also responsible for her craziness – lunacy, is the word after all
    She casts back to the ancients, to the House of Moon Madness
    Remembering how Socrates believed the deities spoke only to those
    Who were manic, or melancholic, shared creativity with them alone
    Not for the first time, she finds herself agreeing, it might not be a bad bargain.

  23. Mike says:

    A few moon poems, full, of course.

    Why do you follow me
    down this empty street –
    full August moon?

    —-

    tree frogs
    raise their voices
    to the full moon

    —-
    11-24-99

    Jupiter rising
    in the east
    racing through
    the night past
    the full moon.

  24. tunesmiff says:

    FULL MOON AND YOU
    (c) 2012 – G. Smith (BMI)
    ——————————————-
    Full moon and water,
    Full moon and sand;
    Full moon and you,
    Holding my hand.

    Full moon and magic,
    Full moon and stars;
    Full moon and you,
    Wherever we are.

    Full moon and dogwood,
    Full moon and snow;
    Full moon and you,
    Wherever I go.

    Full moon and fireworks,
    Full moon and frost;
    Full moon and you,
    And I’ll never be lost.

    Full moon and music,
    Full moon and dreams;
    Full moon and you,
    More than it seems.

    Full moon and laughter,
    Full moon and tears;
    Full moon and you,
    Through all of these years.

    Full moon at sunset,
    Full moon at dawn;
    Full moon and you,
    Somehow I’ll go on.

  25. Bagladylauren says:

    Snuggled up knees and toes,
    little children embrace the heavens
    in a trusting sleep.
    Talking dinosaurs, rescue adventures
    in the jungle, the sweet sticky
    of your favorite candy —
    The dreams of a generation
    where Dora the explorer is their
    best friend, no matter her race,
    glide along moonbeams
    into the mouth of a hungry moon.

    Inside the moon these dreams
    gestate and as the children grow,
    the moon watches where each child
    dreamer sets their gaze.
    When their necks weigh so heavy,
    bent and crackling like a bendy straw down,
    the moon, full, sends their forgotten dreams,
    now developed, shooting
    into the heavens to capture
    imaginations, spark the wild,
    and call the grown
    to again embrace the possibilities.

  26. Judy says:

    Moon Power

    Dark clouds eerily float
    Fading in and out
    Shadows creep along the shore
    Rivers flow black and strong
    While the night is weak

  27. jlcooper says:

    Harvest Moon

    Sitting on the wooden porch
    Listening to the sounds
    Of combines harvesting the wheat
    While the Harvest Moon
    Illuminates their path.

  28. “Moon On The Lake”

    Gentle waves jiggle
    its round face
    in the wet,
    animating
    the once flat orb.

  29. Casey says:

    Full moon
    its silken light
    made sharp shadows. My night
    suspended in that sight of you:
    blinding.

  30. I WATCH THE MOON

    I watch the moon
    and I am phased by its brilliance.
    It starts its lunar dance
    keeping time with the music of night.
    Its face is bright, a right glowing
    globe hung on a sky-hook,
    looking down on me as I watch.
    The moon is full, sated
    by the darkness that feeds it.
    Shadows play upon the surface
    of great light; a beauty of a sight to see.
    And me? I watch the moon.
    My imagination exploring what I
    had been ignoring for years.
    A soothing light on starlit nights,
    burning bright since my first sight.
    It hasn’t changed in all this time.
    I can see it in my mind, long after
    daylight rises. There are no surprises.
    I watch the moon.

  31. pmwanken says:

    HUNTER’S MOON
    (a shadorma)

    Orion’s
    night, with moon so bright.
    Standing guard,
    ready to
    fight if he is called upon.
    Meanwhile, he watches.

    2012-11-02
    P. Wanken

  32. PKP says:

    Thanks to Khara for the timely prompt –

    Alas I must echo others sentiments in terms of the frustrations of our shared server.
    Writers Digest – Does not our RLB deserve his own designated posting vehicle after appearing in O Magazine.
    C’Mon guys we’ve been patient for a looong time now….

  33. PKP says:

    Full Moon

    It would have been enough
    to have a full moon
    pulling the crested waves
    to sandy shores
    it would have been enough
    to have a front chilled blow through
    white caps in the bay
    It would have been enough
    to have the wind whip
    Each singular, would have
    sufficed
    Coalesced
    the bay reached
    with a century long yearning
    toward the touch of the ocean
    with time removed as impediment
    nothing would stand as obstacle as
    they met in
    crashing, crushing, sweeping
    passionate embrace
    with thought of no other
    in the blind lust of
    Sandy

  34. aviseuss says:

    Day 2: Moon

    “Mortal Night”

    I lay beside you as I sleep
    Can this mortal night I keep
    I pray for darkness forever
    That we may always lie together
    Oh sweet Philomel come sing your song
    For in this bed I eternally belong
    In your arms caressed by your breath
    That we may lie here till our death

    Thick stars may be our only light
    As the soot filled canvas shades our night
    And the night eye shines its’ noon
    And celestial darkness fills this room
    In your arms embrace me tight
    As you sleep through this lovely night

    Oh hail Philomel, sing again
    Force this night to never end
    Hail nightingale—hail
    Your song I regret has failed
    Out our window the branch is bare
    Oh nightingale, why aren’t you there?

    What is that which perverts my corridor?
    That spirit that leaks onto this floor?
    What is that I hear? Tweet! Tweet!
    That racket which disturbs my sleep
    That bird on that branch has murdered my night
    A skylark has brought this spirit of light
    That bird which forced night to shut its’ eye
    I will seek vengeance that every skylark die

    Oh nightingale, why must you flee
    Come and return this night to me

  35. Dan Collins says:

    Manifesto Moon

    We always write about the moon
    why shouldn’t we when it rises,
    like a big orange Caesar -
    hailed by the armies of bare
    trees under winter’s blush.
    We always write about the moon,
    her smooth yellow arc across
    darkening amaranthine.
    I always want to tear the cover off,
    pry it open with a blunt screwdriver;
    peer inside to the clockwork
    and the fulcrum that balances pain on sting.
    I need to know what is red about red,
    what is wet about ocean,
    and what is blood about sky.
    We always write about the moon
    because she has seen everything.

  36. JoAnn Jordan says:

    I forgot about the challenge yesterday, so I caught up with a matches poem and a full moon poem today. You can see my work here: http://hopefuljo.wordpress.com/2012/11/02/365-creativity-project-day-298/ I have actually been writing at least one poem a day since April of this year…

  37. Arrgghh! Formatting is crazy, it takes forever to post. What is up with this site???

    Are there IT gods or goddesses out there that can save our sanity?

  38. Moon Festival

    You ask, with sentences that skip and jump
    like a rock thrown across the still pond,
    how we celebrate the Moon Festival.

    Rapidly, I search the depository of memory
    like some frantic librarian racing through the Dewey system.

    I explain, with words chosen as carefully as
    a connoisseur tasting wine,
    that there is no Festival of the Moon here.

    With tear-filled eyes you ask in your new born English,
    “But teacher, how do the lovers find each the other?”

  39. irene toh says:

    Anything can happen

    Truth is the crow that flies.
    The tide is swelling.
    Wrath mixed with loathing
    in a deep ocean.
    Close your eyes.
    Beautiful reef in color
    opening heaven’s key.
    Birds make an upbeat sound
    fleeing the waves.
    Salt spilled the shore.

    Never is tumultous.

    The man wraps his coat close. The flood rises. Waves scramble as foam. A wingless bird sinking into sand. He watches the moon. Its shadow lights a charm. The moon is a full circle. O howl! It is you it enables. Anything could happen.

  40. mbjensen16 says:

    Reminiscent of the song “Mr. Moon” my parents sang to me as a child, and the man in the moon I always sent wishes to.

    Mister Moon

    Mister Mister
    Mister Moon
    Please shine down on me.

    I wish I may
    I wish I might
    Please keep a wish for me.

    Mister Mister
    Mister Moon
    Please shine down on me.

    Mister Mister
    Mister Moon
    Come from behind that tree.

    I wish I may
    I wish I might
    Please shine down on me.

  41. Ann M says:

    moon after a hurricane

    after the boat flung against
    the house, and the house
    floated in the harbor, and
    black winds and rain swept
    over pockmarked, sodden earth,
    where gas pumps are full of air,
    and water is still rising,
    we eat pea soup by candle flame,
    certain at least the moon is overhead.

  42. Full moon
    (a haiku)

    The man in the moon
    got thrown out this afternoon.
    The reason? No room.

  43. mapoet says:

    Full Schedule

    Most look for you at night
    when you are full and bright.
    Stars twinkling all around
    in the dark background.

    They don’t seem to know
    you also have a morning show.
    They need only lift their eyes
    to find you’re still out at sunrise.

  44. Melahlah says:

    The Knight of Full Moon Over Howards Pond

    Stillness smoothes the water like black ice.
    The full yellow moon rises over the silhouette landscape
    Igniting a dividing sword, golden in its glory,
    That slowly slices across the waters welcoming surface.
    Its reflection stirs something in me,
    Fiery, beautiful,
    Vanquishing the stress of the day,
    As a knight in shinning armor
    Would vanquish a villan in story.

  45. June says:

    Oops, make that a capital I – “In Cameroon…”

  46. June says:

    THE LIGHT FANTASTIC

    “in Cameroon”, Trina Schart wrote,
    “silica in the air appears like glitter,
    causing everything to reverberate
    with color and light.”

    One sub-zero day in Rock Springs Wyoming
    we watched shimmering ice crystals
    suspended in mid-air as far as we could see.
    Here in the Sierras on cold clear days
    sunlight filters thru snowdrifts emerging
    in shadows not dark, but ice-blue
    and at night – lantern, carlight or
    moonlight can set the snow sparkling
    like pave’ diamonds or druzy quartz.
    – June

  47. ina says:

    So I couldn’t post yesterday and I haven’t had time to revise ANYthing (including the really messy ponytail I’m wearing right now) so I’m just posting days 1 and 2 “as is” (buyer beware!). Apologies in advance…thanks to everyone above for sharing such beautiful stuff.

    Day 1: Match

    Inside you live the seeds of a
    good man. But you watch her while she
    sleeps and you say She Ugly though
    no one believes you. You cannot
    be who he is. Your skin cracks with
    the effort of goodness. The bad
    ones cast suspicious eyes
    on you, like venomous tear drops,
    because you look like good and not
    like a monster. No one wants to
    be the evil twin. No one wants to
    be the face inside the mirror.
    But no one asked before making
    you: is this the life you wanted?

    [If you're wondering what the heck the above is about, it's meaningless unless you're kind of a DC Comics buff]

    Day 2
    Skyline

    On most nights there are angles.
    There are lights. There are
    windows and reflections.
    Corners push against the sky,
    hold it up, puncture the blue velvet.
    My child sleeps ,his cheek gold in
    the most softness that
    can live in this place.
    I can live with this.
    I can live without mosquitoes .
    I can listen to cars in the night.
    I can tell the great truth: crickets are loud -
    and ugly.
    But sometimes the moon
    is so full and great, hanging
    over the horizon like a golden
    ship that my heart aches
    for the harvest moons of my youth.

  48. Why I Write

    Because it’s night,
    the edge of sight
    unexpectedly bright
    and I always
    have to stop
    and
    name it

    Full
    Moon

    heart skipping
    beats
    thinking
    this stranger
    in the crowd
    might have been
    you

  49. PSC in CT says:

    Hunter’s Moon

    Last night, full of herself, she
    masqueraded in the night sky,
    beguiling temptress,
    tease,
    shrouded in clouds,
    keeping company with the wind,
    elusive,
    peering and disappearing at will;
    today
    she steals away with Jupiter,
    leaving Orion, and a dozen lesser
    stars, in her wake
    wanting

  50. Sara McNulty says:

    Poetic Asides November Challenge Day 2
    Write a full moon poem

    October’s End

    Octobers end,
    readying for Halloween
    conjured a fullness
    of moon,
    radiating rings thick with fog.
    Street soaked carpet
    of fallen leaves
    began to blow, tree limbs shook,
    looking skyward,
    black shadows swept
    `cross moon’s mien,
    flying black bat shapes, flapped
    wings in syncopation,
    just passing through.

  51. Michael Grove says:

    Full Moon Stares
    (A Triple Triolet)

    The full moon stares right back at you
    and looks straight in your eyes.
    Deciphering the false from true
    the full moon stares right back at you.
    Attempting then to see right through
    the laughter and the cries,
    the full moon stares right back at you
    and looks straight in your eyes.

    The full moon stares right back at you
    and sees it on your face.
    As if, it already knew
    the full moon stares right back at you
    while turning shades of black and blue
    in leather or white lace.
    The full moon stares right back at you
    and sees it on your face.

    The full moon stares right back at you
    and tells the world a story.
    While taking off the other shoe
    the full moon stares right back at you
    with a wider field of view
    and sudden new found glory
    the full moon stares right back at you
    and tells the world a story.

    By Michael Grove

  52. LEAF FALL MOON

    There was a full moon
    before the storm. Mercury dropped
    sixty degrees overnight. Trees
    weighted with ice, winter wonderland
    that broke the power lines.
    Creek ran wild with rain,
    people talking flash-flood coming down –
    they wouldn’t fish the banks again,
    they’d found too many friends
    floating in the water.
    My dog led me to a pool in the flow–
    leafy limbs/black mannequin/signpost
    bobbing inner-tube caught in the
    swirl. My dog circled, searching, scenting
    somebody unseen whirling
    dreamlike in debris. Rain fell harder,
    upstream water on the rise.
    Abruptly, sun. In memory, years
    and seasons rechanneled in the straits
    of time flooding back. My dog
    showed me a man washed up on sand-
    bar. A butterfly on his eyes.

  53. SEA OF TRANQUILITY

    Over the dunes it ebbs
    and flows silently into the void.
    Space is a final frontier,
    a grand destination
    in which to vacation,
    like lemmings we go to the sea.
    From the earth to the moon
    for our tranquility! I miss the point,
    shouldn’t a sea oughta have water?

  54. JWLaviguer says:

    Hers is the Sea

    Your eyes move me
    as the moon moves the tide
    Caught in the currents
    of your love.

    Rising with the swells
    of our passion
    Each crest
    greater than the last

    Make love to me
    under the canopy stars
    As we drift
    Into eternity.

  55. Linda Hatton says:

    Invisible Girl

    To the world she is a silent
    smile, an animal footprint
    no one can make out,
    a name deceased from the day
    she was born, forgettable fingers
    filing chocolate-heart stained
    papers, no one recalls how they got
    put to rest. Inside she is wild,
    barefoot climbing snowy Alps,
    trekking to places no eyes have seen
    or remembered, full moon shining
    through windowless men.
    To the world, she never existed,
    invisible, alive only after
    she has gone.

  56. Karen31 says:

    I didn’t see Andy’s Moon Song until after mine was written – Andy, it’s beautiful!

    12 Moons

    Moon called Old
    The year starts cold

    Moon called Hunger
    keep all in wonder

    Moon called Storm
    help us start to warm

    Moon called Fish
    grant a belly’s wish

    Moon called Corn
    many children born

    Moon called Strawberry
    all the world make merry

    Moon called Hay
    dally as we may

    Moon called Lightning
    summer’s end is frightening

    Moon called Harvest
    often shines the largest

    Moon called Hunter
    faces winter’s slumber

    Moon called Frost
    prepare at any cost

    Moon of the Long Night
    pray the new year to be bright

  57. JWLaviguer says:

    Pun and Done

    In a hurry
    went to fast
    speed of light
    what a blast
    friends and family
    gone long ago
    time stands still
    they say it’s so
    in search of life
    they had to train us
    now we’re orbiting
    around Uranus.

  58. Bruce Niedt says:

    Another Damned Poem about the Moon

    Get out the word bank:
    spoon, June, croon, swoon, soon –
    it’s another damned poem about the moon.

    Talk about the man in it,
    talk about walking on it, talk about
    green cheese, werewolves and lunatics.

    Listen to the owls and coyotes,
    watch the tides pull higher,
    marvel at night shadows on the ground.

    Hold your baby a little tighter
    under a cold light that makes her
    prettier, but a little more like death.

    Punch three holes in your new poem
    and file it between the covers of a binder,
    the latest volume of “The Moon Files”.

  59. Misky says:

    Bareback on Moonbeams

    Fold this creamed moon with affection,
    your clouded smile shrouds lakes,
    coaxing the huntsman to harness
    moonbeams and chase nightfall across my
    dreams like skipping stones teasing water.

    And tonight he comes for me.

    He rides moonbeams bareback in pursuit
    of my fallow heart, the huntsman gathering
    up my leaden sorrows and stealing them
    away into the soft pleats of the night.

    And tonight he comes for me.

    Be gone this devouring weakness
    and cold tears that scald and roll.
    Be lost into the hollows of night,
    and carry my fragile heart away
    with the huntsman’s celestial kiss.

  60. WEIGHTLESS

    You take my air
    leaving me breathless, gasping;
    stepping cautiously so as not
    to disturb your orbit. But the gravity
    of you is held in my heart,
    it is the ballast that keeps me,
    the anchor that grounds me.
    Without your love I drift into the darkness
    weightless and useless, less the man
    who holds your heart. We will start
    to levitate if we let each heart go,
    so hold on tightly, rightly so!

  61. DanielAri says:

    “The fallow months”

    My hunger, love, is like an alien moon.
    I know you feel its phases subtly
    as tired nights grow from busy afternoons.
    The strange globe with its aching liquid pull—
    astronomical and inopportune—

    has stirred storm winds lately, love. It grows full—
    but it’s outside, way up in the night sky.
    In here, we’ve battened down, sorted the mail.
    We can vaguely recall when its blue eye
    closed in satisfied rest, its picayune

    turbulence muted under the duvet
    of fertile earth’s penumbra. Sixty-two
    moons (nine of them provisional) fly by
    Saturn (not to mention the rings), and do
    you know how insistent my orbital

    gravity winds up? Even typhoons blew.
    You’re the sea, love, and I’m thirsty for you.

  62. Jeannine P says:

    Wow. Tried yesterday and today to post my poems and comments and get any number of error messages no matter how I compose the post/comments. I’m participating in PAD, but will be posting at my own blog: http://www.distilledfromstars.blogspot.com

    Hopefully I can comment on your poems at your respective blogs too, since I can’t, here.

  63. Rorybore says:

    Really enjoying this challenge so far!!

    Mine can be found
    HERE

    looking forward to reading other selections.

  64. barbara_y says:

    Beginning of November

    The full moon has grown
    small as a golf ball, sailing away.
    Frost has turned the fig leaves
    into lewd curls of exposed back sides.
    And starlings’ bellies look gold. The flock,
    furling through the morning, are rolling
    tarnished coins. If coins gather
    in skimpy yellow trees, and whistle.
    The weather’s changed, and the time
    is about to change, and you have changed and I
    drone on like TS Eliot, melancholy
    as a mule.

  65. SJStephens says:

    Wandering full moon rises in east as the
    night falls to the ground. What holds these
    feet to an unbound earth. It is my folly
    that I believe in the wandering spirit of
    the moon. Impish, wayward moon that
    slowly illuminates the starry skies. All
    that lives beneath it like magic. And in
    the early morning fades as the sun rises.
    Its trickery captured in the youthful heart
    so full of pale tragic light.

  66. PLAY AMONG THE STARS

    Fly me to the moon
    sometime before June.
    Jupiter and Mars just can’t compare!
    And hopefully, we’ll play up there
    and we can be in tune.

    That rendezvous would be a boon,
    a chance for hearts to meld and swoon,
    and live our lives without a care.
    Fly me to the moon.

    The song that “Blue Eyes” used to croon
    about that “crazy, coo-coo” moon,
    is right for me and my lady fair
    orbiting the earth up there,
    and hopefully we’ll take off soon!
    Fly me to the moon.

  67. pmwanken says:

    HUNTER’S MOON

    I sit quietly in the waning hours of sunset. My patient nature works to my advantage on such nights as this. My thoughts wander to my wife and children, doing their part in preparing for winter, storing up the last of our harvest. I anticipate how next year will be different when my son will accompany me on this hunt—the oldest in my quiver, with his own bow and quiver. The slight crunch of leaves returns my attention to the clearing in front of me and my sight is set—on both the future and the present—as I draw my arrow across the bow.

    preparations
    for changing seasons
    as the moon rises

    2012-11-02
    P. Wanken

  68. Marie Elena says:

    A Lesser Light

    Drawing lovers, lesser light
    Softly, gently rules the night

  69. Dan Collins says:

    Haruspex

    Only this worm moon
    with an auspice of haloed caution
    behind the flight
    of winged creatures
    is brighter
    than Alexander rising
    in your mind.
    You and your shining columns,
    your light is passing
    through the Forum. Legions, you leave,
    or the shadow of legions.
    “Aye, Caesar; but not gone.”

  70. JRSimmang says:

    I told him not to do it.
    We were 20 somethings
    doing 20 something things
    in a minds that fevered and pitched
    so much so that the
    daily day nauseated
    and built upon itself
    a threshold of panic and pain.
    At least that’s what we thought
    or wanted others to think.,
    There wasn’t much to do on a Saturday night
    but strut our gears and
    wash our desires over and over again
    over the faces with the smiles.
    Ooh, we were the kings.
    We were kings of kings
    riding high in the carriages,
    pulled by sweat and steam.
    Our shirts sticking to our
    will o’ the wisp chests,
    which we beat till we bled.
    That was the night
    we howled into the
    sky.
    That was the night
    the pickings were slim
    but boy how they bowed.
    They kissed our rings
    and fingers
    and arms
    and legs
    and lips.
    They dragged us
    deep into the
    ramble shamble
    rabble rousing.
    That was the night the will of the wind was broken
    But, we howled.
    We howled long and loud
    so that the wolves ran and cowered at
    our presence.
    That was the night
    the sky was pierced through the heart
    by the simple white of the moon.

  71. julie e. says:

    SHADOW GAMES

    Marriage and mayhem can collide
    beneath the night’s full moon
    The dinner’s almost washed up
    let’s sneak out, just we two
    and meet up on the back porch
    in shadows, me and you
    to play a game, yours: Angry Birds
    I’ll play my Sudoku.

    Ah! Peace….

  72. Yolee says:

    Bubble Wrap the Moon

    From my office window I see a lamppost
    tall as a soldier’s calling. Twin bulbs
    will begin their shift when daylight
    tiptoes out and evening glides in.

    Past the windmill palms, silvery-green
    foliage of Chinese junipers curtsy
    to the imposing wind. A magpie
    stares into the birdbath. I wonder
    if the drying mirror can contain
    the chinwagger.

    Clouds seem to have been pulled
    and pulled out of art form, as if
    they’re remnants of angels’ play.

    A man steps out of his UPS truck,
    reaches in it to retrieve several big
    boxes. The sky is shamelessly blue.

    I think of what brown can do:
    accept the duty to deliver a clear
    horizon, heaps of sun, and the soft
    light of the moon to New York,
    Jersey, and the other altered states.

  73. jared davidavich says:

    Night Shift

    I miss shadows.
    The way they stretch out
    From your feet
    When the sun is low,
    Or pool around them
    When it is high overhead,
    As if momentarily floating
    Over a manhole before falling in

    I miss shadows
    Of swirling leaves
    And tree branches,
    Playing make believe
    With silhouettes of the clouds
    Above our heads,
    Or resting in them
    When the sun beats down

    I miss the shadows
    Of a forest in the morning
    When the sun’s rays,
    Peaking through the trees,
    Dance and play in the sparkling mist
    Avoiding the darkness
    That eventually gives way
    To a batch of freshly cast shade

    I miss shadows
    Because the sun and I split the day,
    never awake at the same time.
    Neither of us know why
    People need so much done at night,
    But for my sacrifice, he sometimes sends full moon
    That gives me shadows again,
    Even if only for a short while

  74. Marjory MT says:

    Trilet

    I sit where I can watch the moon
    Knowing that you are watching too
    Listening to soft romantic tune.
    I sit where I can watch the moon
    Wishing to be with you to bloom
    While feeling the fresh cooling dew.
    I sit where I can watch the moon
    Knowing that you are watching too.

    I hope to get past the “…too fast….” guru. What I have read is wonderful. Great job everyone
    wish I could comment individually. fouth try – 5 -6-

  75. Domino says:

    Midnight Date

    Luney
    moony
    lunatic.

    Full moon risin’
    on horizon,
    happy
    sappy mid-
    night addict.

    Night bird calling
    kissing
    falling
    don’t go home,
    see what you’ll miss.

    Walk the dirt road
    talk the night code
    never tell what
    all we’ve done

    Full moon lighting
    midnight water
    swimming in the
    blue-dark liquid
    made serene by
    silver light.

    What a night.

    What a harum-scarum
    dizzy, lazy
    languourusly
    beautifully
    moony- luney
    night.

    Diana Terrill Clark

  76. KathyA says:

    Me and He

    Nighttime sky…dotted with stars
    Husband and me…the night is ours
    World around us…clash and clang
    Full moon above us…tonight, we sang.

    Bodies entwined…skin to skin
    Desert song mine…night music his
    Earth warms our bedding…breeze cools our brows
    Love since our wedding…savor our vows.

    After the love…after the bliss
    Counting the stars…nothing better than this
    Baby cries…we rush to see
    All is well…sleeps peacefully.

    How many years…how many times
    Children grow…life declines
    Here we sit…in redwood chair
    Full moon above…you right there.

  77. Miss R. says:

    Moonrise (A Pantoum)

    There’s a full moonrise on the horizon
    Illuminating the dark prairie sky.
    The sun is gone and the day is done,
    Leaving lonely winds to howl and cry.

    Illuminating the dark prairie sky,
    The harvest moon hangs high and aloof,
    Leaving lonely winds to howl and cry
    Loud, mournful anthems of reproof.

    The harvest moon hangs high and aloof,
    Careless of both earth’s bounty and want.
    Loud, mournful anthems of reproof
    Echo from many a poor man’s haunt.

    Careless of both earth’s bounty and want,
    The moon hangs unmoved by the cries that
    Echo from many a poor man’s haunt
    Where life and death come, prepared for combat.

    The moon hangs unmoved by the cries that
    Reach up to the dark, foreboding sky
    Where life and death come, prepared for combat.
    Goodness is twisted and gone awry.

    Reach up to the dark, foreboding sky.
    The sun is gone and the day is done;
    Goodness is twisted and gone awry.
    There’s a full moonrise on the horizon.

  78. Andrea Heiberg says:

    A TEACHER’S CLEAR MOMENT

    Hate to be pulled up, out
    in the night, bewildered,
    facing that fossilized student under my sofa,
    that I normally like to forget all about during
    the daytime.
    Only at full moon, I become alive.

  79. June says:

    full moon
    wind chimes singing
    from the oak’s low branch

  80. Day2
    Prompt: Full Moon
    Moonlight, But Not Only

    Full moon flashlights our midnight path,
    our low-traffic drive toward the beach,
    reflects on the bay with our glad crossing,
    traversing the Hathaway Bridge.

    Still rising in the East,
    moon nudges at our side,
    as we near the finish line,
    familiar gate open wide.

    Thank You, God,
    lighting our way,
    not only for vacation,
    but every hour,
    every day.

  81. posmic says:

    Sairy and Esther

    Under an almost-full moon,
    over two short glasses of milk,
    in milk-white, moon-white gowns,
    Sairy and Esther argue over
    which one is more important.

    Sairy says she is everything
    that ever was, ever is
    and ever shall be.
    World without end.
    Immutable.

    Esther says nothing is ever
    like that; everything changes,
    and it’s best to keep moving,
    not pretend at stillness
    when we are always traveling
    so fast we can’t feel it.

    Sairy and Esther agree,
    as always (or sometimes),
    to divide the world in half,
    its actions and descriptions.

    Sairy is an old woman.
    Esther is pouring out
    the leftover milk;
    a half moon turns
    around once, slips
    down the drain.

    Sairy and Esther
    spoon in their bed;
    it is big enough
    for two to be.

  82. RJ Clarken says:

    Full Moon

    Some folks are acting really weird.
    I hope it’s not what I have feared:
    Apocalypse with zombie bite?
    Perhaps it’s just full moon tonight.

    I hear a howling – distant roars.
    I think I’ll keep myself indoors.
    But is it safe inside, despite…?
    Perhaps it’s just full moon tonight.

    The creatures of the evening world
    escape their bonds, become unfurled
    so who knows what will come to light?
    Perhaps it’s just full moon tonight.

    But then again, just what is weird?
    I think my fear has disappeared
    enough to venture out. Yes, quite.
    Perhaps it’s just full moon tonigh—-

    ###

  83. Cruz says:

    Moon

    It’s good to see
    your mischievous eyes
    and enticing smile
    peer at me again
    through the window
    my old friend
    They make me want to
    play and laugh with you
    as much today as they did
    when you first caught my eye
    from the backseat of my mother’s car
    and we raced down the road
    those many many years ago
    Your splendor still
    enchants me
    like it’s done
    each time we’ve met since then
    and it still surges in my spirit
    the desire to
    live life without limits
    and share passion without fear
    but I regret
    My immortal friend
    Time will no longer
    allow me magical moments
    with your childlike charisma
    That is why I left the window open for you
    to sneak in to visit with me
    one last time.

  84. RJ Clarken says:

    That Old Devil Moon – for Anthony and Bob on the Occasion of Their Wedding

    “It’s that old devil moon in your eyes.” -Burton Lane & E.Y. Harburg, Finian’s Rainbow

    Old devil moon is in your eyes
    and nothing ever will disguise
    your warmth, your moonstruck song of bliss:
    a sigh, a touch and then one kiss.

    That devil moon, he knows you well:
    his silken moonbeams craft their spell.
    In future days, you’ll reminisce:
    a sigh, a touch and then one kiss.

    One glance towards the heavens sends
    reflections of the love of friends
    and family. It is much like this:
    a sigh, a touch and then one kiss.

    Tonight, a sprinkling of moonlight
    will join your hands and hearts. Recite
    those ancient oaths. A moon auspice:
    a sigh, a touch and then one kiss.

    ###

    This poem is for my dear old friends Bob and Anthony, who are getting married tonight. I’ve known them since 1983, from my old theater days, and I’ve been waiting for this moment ever since I met them. Unfortunately, Hurricane Sandy has rendered the roads between New Jersey and New York impassable (and I have a bad head cold on top of it all) but I celebrate them and their special night – and only wish I could be there in person.

  85. foodpoet says:

    Not sure of title yet

    Moon Pattern
    Moon Lessons

    Full moon
    Hold silver in your hand
    Card moonlight into threads
    Of silver air spin magic
    Ready your loom
    To weave winter
    Frost bright

  86. Miss R. says:

    Full Mooning

    It’s a full moon, ladies and gentlemen:
    She can’t keep her mind’s eye off of him,
    And she wouldn’t want to if she could.
    Dreamy doe eyes reflect starry imaginings
    Punctuated by breathy, girlish sighs;
    Reality is chased away with great ferocity
    By dreams of what will never be,
    And she likes it that foolish way.
    There’s no denying it, ladies and gentlemen:
    The mooning has risen in full.

  87. Nancy Posey says:

    Full Moon, July 2, 1969

    Did lovers even dream what they shared
    that early July night under the full moon,
    that last kiss she witnessed with her innocent,
    bright face still untouched, bearing no mark
    of mortal man, not one small step?

    Holding court from on high, unblinking, but ducking
    now and then behind a curtain of clouds,
    hiding her blush, or winking at their ardor,
    did her chaste dreams hint of her own conquest
    by those who’d love then leave?

    Did lovers basking in her mirrored sunshine
    ignore her muted, pockmarked face, believing,
    as all lovers do, she was suspended in the sky
    for them alone, lights and shadows more subtle
    than candlelight, as inconstant as love.

  88. viv says:

    Mine is a haiga – poem embedded in picture – so I can’t copy it here. You’ll find it at http://vivinfrance.wordpress.com/2012/11/02/full-moon/

  89. Richard Fenwick says:

    First Draft: Moon Over New Hampshire (for my brother)

    Moon Across New Hampshire

    For Phillip

    When the month began you were
    the new moon in a sky as black
    as pepper, two dark clouds
    sweeping through your oily night.

    Within days, you were a crescent,
    a thumbnail of moon, a smile
    looking down on the earth as Venus
    rode along beside you.

    After a week you settled down,
    until a half moon erupted, buttery
    bright, and I stood in a robe to admire
    your glow against my wisteria.

    But how you hate being gibbous –
    oblong like a flat ping pong ball,
    one part of you shadowed in
    a small eclipse of earth’s umbra.

    I am not surprised, then, to find
    you’re full tonight, or when I learn
    she has come to ask you
    if you’ll stand close to her now,

    to watch your shadows cross
    together, as full as the wisteria
    in my third stanza, shining
    on your bold and beautiful hearts.

  90. SHOOTING THE MOON (AND PUMPKINS TOO)

    An ode to the permanent vertical smile,
    the boys let you out once in a while.

    It truly shows their lack of class
    every time they show they’re crass!

    It’s best to leave you in their britches,
    you look like you need a thousand stitches.

    They think you’re an expression,
    butt showing you will teach one lesson.

    A few more beers and they get bolder,
    giving you air will make you colder,

    and you will turn a shade of blue
    (not the most attractive hue).

    So smarten up, pull up your pants,
    or your Blue Moon won’t stand a chance!

    Bom, ba, ba, bom ba
    Bom, ba, bom, bom ba
    Dinga-dong ding,
    Blue Moon!

  91. IrisD says:

    Rising on eastern horizon
    Orange like a gaint ball
    My granddaughter thinks
    Jesus must play basketball

  92. Cara Holman says:

    and you
    so far away
    hazy moon

  93. Jane Shlensky says:

    Tides

    That moon had already risen in full day,
    a white disk as big as your thumb
    hogging a quadrant of sky, showing itself off.

    “Oh, hell,” said Dr. Marie, stocking her traveling bag,
    and pointing to another box of goods to be carried to her old Ford.
    “It’s going to be a busy night. Full moon. A big one.”

    She spoke as if we understood and so we nodded
    as if we did, young nursing students, trained for kindness
    and little else, knowing the business end of a bed pan,

    how to change a bed with a sleeping person still in it,
    how to take blood pressures and temperatures,
    how to take blood, give shots to oranges, take orders.

    No one had taught us yet to read the sky
    or note the moon’s effect on hospital business.
    “I’ll gather them in,” the old doctor said. “Stand by.”

    And so we stood, by, watching, waiting. By nightfall,
    the lobby moaned with pregnant women
    filling hallways and exam rooms, new babies

    coming into the world on a beam of moonlight,
    that shiny mirror in the sky controlling ebb and flow
    of blood and birth, waves of human impulse in its control.

    Dr. Marie returned mid-evening, three babies delivered at home,
    grabbed an apple to sustain her and began again at the hospital,
    checking to see who was farthest along, who in false labor.

    “It’s the moon,” she said. “Full moons bring babies,
    especially big pushy moons.” We looked out and up
    expecting the street lights to obliterate the heavens,

    but there it was, big as the world, in control of the sky.
    Dr. Marie anticipated our questions, half-smiling
    at our naiveté. “We need to bring in as much life

    as we can now, in the shank of the evening, before
    the others start coming.” Others? We could not
    anticipate that the same moon that pushed life

    into the world had an undertow that pulled life out.
    “The knife wounds, bar fights, overdoses, mean drunks
    the attempted suicides, battered wives, the old ones.

    They’ll be coming in as sure as wolves run in packs.
    You’ve seen the children of light. Now we need
    to make room for those drawn to dark. Best be prepared.”

  94. Ber says:

    Moon Struck

    Hanging in the sky
    with white as crystal clear
    like a snow globe in the sky
    beautiful white you smear

    Smiling winking back
    with star dust all around
    our eyes all look up to you
    into your background

    Astronaunts look on in wonder
    have landed one or two
    adventure on their backs
    stuck to you like glue

    Ice the cold that comes
    you give off the cold frost breath
    your our guiding light
    in the still of the night

    Position yourself in the skyline
    in different places you are seen
    but we all share your wonders
    Crystlal ice prestine

    So no matter what your face
    sleeping or awake
    we celebrate you appearing
    Proctecting us the human race

  95. claudsy says:

    Good prompt, Khara. Really good.

    Shimmer’s Glimmer

    Hints of moving air
    Caress cheeks warmed
    By a day spent in play
    Among pines and birch,
    Fanning eyelashes, framing orbs
    That scan the horizon beyond lake’s
    Dark waters reflecting night.

    Hopes rise at first seeing
    Moon’s shimmer begin
    At mountain peak and grow
    To light only close proximity,
    Never sharing her face’s perfection
    With surrounding space,
    But hoarding its sparkles

    And fairy lights until, once high,
    Each tiny glimmer can play
    With lake water’s ripples across
    Expanses that mirror Moon’s
    Full illumination and glory,
    Building a private light path
    Leading directly to your heart.

  96. Full Moon Clarity

    Fog rolling in like silent thunder
    cloaking me with fear
    hiding visions in front of me
    I walk blind
    with arms out in front
    trying to find my way
    confusion
    lost direction
    “Watch your step!”
    Helpless
    but listening
    what do I hear?!
    Footsteps
    they echo
    is that you?!
    I look up,
    I see light,
    the moon,
    full and bright
    shines down on you
    Is this trickery?!
    Why do shadows dance?
    I can’t make out your face
    creeping from corners are eyes,
    Who are you?
    Reality strikes,
    I’ve never really known.

    ~HLM
    11/2/2012

  97. MeenaRose says:

    Heavenly Pearl
    By: Meena Rose

    Life’s hustle and life’s bustle
    Could not interfere
    With the forceful sway
    You hold over my being.

    Oh, Heavenly Pearl,
    Adorned and sustained by
    Sun’s blazing furnace;
    A tempered polished beauty.

    I submit to you and your
    Heavenly point of view;
    Truth’s seer and power’s balm;
    An all encompassing Pearl.

    By Moon’s bright light
    My spirit soars and
    Surfs cosmic waterways
    Infused with iridescent insight.

  98. Well-worn friends

    Full moon, full moon,
    What do you see?
    I see a busy town
    Looking at me.

    Busy town, busy town,
    What do you see?
    I see a goosebump
    Looking at me.

    Goosebump, goosebump,
    What do you see?
    I see a bowl of mush
    Looking at me.

    Bowl of mush, whisper hush,
    What do you see?
    I see a duckling
    Looking at me.

    Duckling, duckling,
    What do you see?
    I see the full moon
    Looking at me.

    Goodnight busy town, goodnight moon
    Bide your time, we’ll be back soon.
    Goodnight goosebumps, goodnight mush
    Goodnight duckling whispering hush.

    • ina says:

      My son reads at a sixth grade level and Goodnight Moon is STILL his favorite book – can’t wait to read this to him (he likes Eric Carle, but Margaret W. B. beats him all hollow).

  99. Michelle Hed says:

    Luna shrinks
    as the nights fade to black
    my jeans are loose

    ***
    sun’s reflection
    guides my journey
    reflecting on life

    ***
    a globe of ash
    lightens the night sky
    volcano rumbles

    ***
    sliver of moonlight
    sneaks beneath the blinds
    I’m not alone

    ***
    full moon
    she eclipses all others
    entering the room

  100. IrisD says:

    HEAVENLY HIEARCH
    The tides are synchronized with your moods
    Precise time tables are written for decades hence
    Vast oceans acquiesce to your silent command
    When hurricane throws her gauntlet down
    You still orchestrate from your lofty abode
    Lunar light is not constant but your strength
    Lies not in your reflection but in your perfection

  101. Andy Brackett says:

    Moon Song

    With bitter cold and snowy drifts
    The Wolf moon will appear
    Casting its stare o’er the land
    Patiently it sits

    As winter lingers the lands lay covered
    Under Snow moon’s quilted clutch
    Blanketed in snowy white
    A perfect night for lovers

    When snow recedes, at last it melts
    The Worm moon makes it’s rise
    Spring is round the corner
    It’s warm touch is felt

    The first buds of Spring do sprout
    When Pink moon owns the sky
    Shining down on ground phlox
    Whose begging to be out

    April’s showers, bring May flowers
    And Flower moon above
    Illuminating new life below
    From it’s lofty tower.

    The season for this fruit, isn’t long
    Strawberry moon laments
    To eat of them year round I wish
    Would that be so wrong?

    Velvet falls away, from antlers that mature
    The full Buck moon commands
    Go now deer and find your mate
    From this you will prosper

    Fish run strong, in all Great lakes
    Sturgeon moon attests
    Gather them by hook or net
    Take all that you can take

    Farmers hear me, heed this call
    Harvest moon cries out
    Reap your crops, by my light
    This marks the start of Fall

    To fill your freezers, before the snow
    Hunter moon persists
    Go now and take your fill
    By musket, trap or bow

    Hurry now, no time to waste
    Beaver moon will say
    Collect your furs, to keep you warm
    Through winters cold embrace

    The snow returns, the nights are long
    The Cold moon takes it’s place
    High upon the darkened sky
    It sings it’s wintry song.

  102. Michelle Hed says:

    Halloween Moon

    Rising on the horizon
    peeking through the trees
    glowing orange in early light
    I crouch to my knees.

    Camera out I’m ready
    to get that perfect shot
    but then the clouds creep in
    blocking what I got.

    By the time the clouds roll on
    the moon has faded to yellow
    but with empty branches reaching
    a spooky sight to scare any fellow.

    I click away
    playing with the light
    loving this treat
    on Halloween night.

  103. MOONWALKER TOO
    (with a nod to JWLaviguer)

    The beat pulses,
    Billie Jean refrains,
    Fedora pulled to
    shield your eyes,
    your pelvis goes insane.
    You grip your crotch
    a time or two,
    to make sure it’s still there,
    underneath your sheathed hand,
    the sequined glove you wear.
    You spin, you twirl,
    you screech, you whirl,
    you fling your hat
    (imagine that),
    your feet retreat
    a backward slide,
    a treadmill run amok.
    You perfected this maneuver
    at least that is the talk,
    quite the fluid mover
    with that manic, “bad” moonwalk!

    RIP, Michael Jackson (Tee, hee, hee, SHAMON! OW!)

  104. Miss R. says:

    Some Night

    One night,
    Some night,
    I’ll dance in the moonlight.
    When it’s full,
    When it’s glowing,
    I have moves that I’ll be showing.
    Will you,
    Can you,
    Let it go and dance, too?
    Don’t worry,
    Don’t fear,
    When the shadows get too near.
    Just laugh.
    Just smile.
    Joy keeps them at bay awhile.
    Be young,
    Be free,
    And dance the night away with me.
    One night,
    Some night,
    I’ll dance in the moonlight.

  105. LASSOING THE MOON
    (George Bailey’s Intent)

    “Buffalo Gal won’t you come out tonight?”
    I’m giving you the skies.
    The multitude of stars above
    reflect your soulful eyes.

    The sway of treetops mimics you,
    the breath of wind repeats,
    the sound of crickets still remains
    but you sound just as sweet.

    The night holds your seduction,
    the skies possess your grace,
    this evening strings my heart along,
    in the moon, I see your face.

    Untie my heart for one brief dance
    as I sing your favorite tune,
    “Buffalo Gal won’t you come out tonight?”
    I’m lassoing the moon!

  106. DAHutchison says:

    Fool Moon

    Climbing a tree in reversible shorts while camping in Whitewater Park,
    A family reunion in full force below all the rotting twigs and loose bark,
    My dear younger brother stepped out on a limb which gave out from under his feet,
    It might have been luck that a limb just below, snagged a reversible pleat,
    No broken bones, that’s the fortunate thing, but eyes turned his way and soon,
    Our loved ones burst out, laughing mercilessly, at the sight of my brother’s full moon.
    The look of surprise and the tears in his eyes… both made me pity the boy.
    But with each moon that waxes, his ego relaxes and adds to the memory’s joy.

  107. JWLaviguer says:

    Moonwalker

    I touch
    But cannot feel
    I step
    But cannot walk
    I breathe
    But cannot smell
    Yet here I stand
    With Flag in hand
    I claim
    But cannot own
    One small step
    One giant leap.

    RIP, Neil Armstrong

  108. RobHalpin says:

    Full Moon

    full night,
    but not full dark,
    the bright Hunter’s Moon shined,
    baring all of the prankster’s own
    full moon

  109. ely the eel says:

    Moonshine

    There are no elm trees
    on Elm Avenue anymore,
    but so many grew
    to the sky’s lower shelf
    when I was a boy, yet new,
    in awe of everything.
    The lake was a wonder,
    a playground without toys,
    and, oh, the hours we spent,
    and, oh, the heartfelt joys.
    The farms were near,
    their barns inviting,
    the smells as intoxicating
    as moonshine.
    The woods called out,
    come roam and hide,
    treasures to be found,
    meandering trails to follow,
    no clue to the other side.
    The sky was like a book,
    its pictures ever-changing,
    and we, the authors, the ones
    whose visions made the tales,
    endings ever rearranging.
    The nights were filled with sounds,
    owls and crickets and kids,
    the elm tree canopy along our road
    a full moon peeking through,
    but mostly we were hid,
    free to be, free to be.
    What’s it like now, I wonder,
    for the children in that home
    my family built along the shore?
    There are no elm trees
    on Elm Avenue anymore.

  110. Tracy Davidson says:

    beneath a full moon
    I cast my spell upon you…
    brew a love potion
    that will drive you wild with lust…
    George Clooney – you will be mine

  111. Tracy Davidson says:

    full moon
    I see your naked backside
    at the window
    you slip beneath the surface
    of a million bubbles

  112. Tracy Davidson says:

    full moon
    he carves my face
    in the pumpkin

  113. 1flychicken says:

    Ah, the moon is my specialty, actually—or “obesession.” Yum. I have 900 poems about the moon! [exaggerated] BUT I’m going to try to make it different this time.

    Beautiful poems posted so far. (:
    mt

  114. JWLaviguer says:

    Alas, you have shown yourself again
    old friend
    To look upon your craters and mountains
    And yet, a certain sadness
    nay, disgust
    And yet, you appear once more
    Forcing my eyes away
    but drawn to the peaks and valleys
    All I ask of you is to hide yourself
    from my view
    Please mister plumber man
    pull up your pants

  115. elishevasmom says:

    Change of Tides

    The Moon commands,
    And the tide goes out.

    She is said to control insanity –
    Lunatics they call them,
    Thus following her in spirit,
    And in name as well.

    The Moon stretches.
    Water runs forward,
    Then stumbles, falls,
    Hiding beneath, within itself.

    The Moon flexes.
    Energy, as though from nowhere
    Explodes – retreats, expended
    From my mind.

    The open eye seems to close,
    An oft repeated ruse.
    Water heaves to land,
    Retreats as though chastised.

    The pull invisible,
    With wits strewn
    I step off with final destination
    Unknown, unsurmised, unheeded.

    The Moon yawns.
    Water’s efforts realigning
    Chaos to safety.
    Lunatics hear a lullaby.

    The Moon commands.
    And the tide comes in.

    Ellen Knight

  116. LUNAR LUNES

    Heaven bound orb
    you draw upon our hearts
    and high tides.

         To the moon and back
         man has traveled.
         One giant leap for mankind.

    “Est luna plena”,
    in latin
    you are as lovely!

         Full moon howling.
         While Werewolves of London bay,
         Warren Zevon sings.

    Shine on harvest moon.
    it is soon
    that winter arrives.

         The moon comes,
         rising over the tree silhouettes.
         The stars relent.

    Goodnight Moon and stars.
    My eyes close
    yet your fullness glows.

  117. Misky says:

    Romancing Moon Beams

    A song,
    a tune for this
    mysterious
    moon.
    Effervescent
    cat’s bowl of milk,
    silky cream dripping
    webbed light whipping clouds,
    strolling west, and rolling
    from left to right.
    Take rest, be still old soul for I
    am piteously lacking, and my heart
    races as I chase you through the stars.

  118. Marie Elena says:

    For now, an old one inspired by one of Walt’s prompts.

    ONE MORE CHANCE

    Step with me across the moon,
    where childhood awaits
    with puzzle books, and sharpened crayons
    and four-wheeled roller skates.

    Take my hand, and skip with me
    To Thumbelina land.
    Let’s grab a rope for Double Dutch;
    Build castles in the sand.

    Climb with me beyond the clouds
    Discover who is there -
    It’s Chatty Cathy, Penny Bright
    And your first Teddy Bear.

    Come where time did not pass by,
    And ceaselessly it’s spring
    Where getting there’s the easy part:
    Just grab an empty swing.

  119. IN THE FULLNESS OF LUNAR LUCIDITY

    How strangely still the night sky seems.
    For it holds the hopes and dream of lovers
    lost in the romance of this bright night.
    Hands clasped, sighs gasped to fill each other
    with the breaths that love has placed within.
    And in the moment they embrace

    They are warmed by the moonbeam’s own embrace.
    It highlights her face and has him bursting at the seams
    not able to contain the emotion within.
    It is in that fleeting flash that they are confirmed as lovers
    and the clearness of that thought pleases each other
    to no end. They find the allure in the brilliance of the night.

    This is indeed a lover’s night.
    A night where their closeness makes their hearts race
    and the depths of souls so blessed, touch the other
    deeply and unconditionally. Traditionally focused, it seems
    nights like this should never end, this night for lovers.
    For the moon had brought them together to begin with. In

    the gentility of this lunar lucidity resides within
    true love’s way. It is that longing that drives this night.
    The full moon is the clean slate upon which lovers
    inscribe the promise of the future’s passionate embrace.
    He loves her; she loves that he loves and seems
    committed to secure and protect her. Others

    had graced her threshold on other
    nights as this. But the expectations she carried within
    were never fully realized. This moment seems
    different; there is something enchanting about this night.
    It is this moon that holds them in its arms, an embrace
    that this night offers often to lovers.

    And she loves him in this moonlight, as he loves her.
    They find logic in these feelings that others
    had found through the ages. It is the full moon they embrace,
    the constant over time that pulls these emotions from within
    and exposes them to the scrutiny of this love strewn night.
    How strangely still the night sky seems.

    It seems lovers find their clear path
    in the fullness of lunar lucidity. A night unlike any other
    embraces them in the comfort of love possessed within.

  120. Unmasked

    A full moon is unmasked

    and the tide is on high

    I can no longer turn away

    her nightly beauty, no longer concealed

    her glimmering rim has full say

    just bask and marvel

    in her cratered countenance

    that has now been revealed

  121. Mosaic

    Her wrinkles and scars
    mixed into a mosaic
    of wisdom and past pain.
    Like a full moon
    glowing in the night,
    she comforted many
    in times of darkness.

  122. Nancy J says:

    Gone

    A form in the fog,
    a faint touch of warmth
    on this cool Autumn night,
    Shape-shifting lover,
    dreamer of signs,
    is it you come back to me
    or a game from the grave?
    The truth is elusive
    when we want it to be.
    There, for a moment,
    in a splash of full moon,
    you looked almost real,
    and my broken heart
    turned away.

  123. JanetRuth says:

    Beneath orb pallor
    the earth is a silver sea
    where we drift homeward

    ***
    beneath harvest moon
    autumn day has gifted hours
    to gather in sheaves

    ***

    beneath heaven’s broach
    the spoil of worldly beggars
    is putrid plunder

    ***

    mellow misty moon
    paints platinum poetry
    on onyx ocean

    ***

  124. Misky says:

    I am having a great deal of problem posting here, so mine is posted on my poetry blog at:

    http://miskmask.wordpress.com/2012/11/02/romancing-moon-beans/

    ~ Misky

  125. PowerUnit says:


    I’ve endured and weathered the barrage
    I’ve mastered the art of holding back revenge
    But even the best are not perfect
    Even Superman has flaws
    Please don’t come round on the full moon
    If you wish to remain my friend.

  126. “This Dance, Again”

    Brittle November leaves
    cross over the face of the full moon
    as they swirl
    and dance
    and giggle,
    giving the illusion of great motion
    but finally coming to rest
    inches from where they began
    waiting
    for their next chance
    to dance.

  127. barbara_y says:

    The little round moon, setting, down the alley
    to the west, looks chilly. Soon it will be snug,
    sleeping while the rest of us climb out warm beds
    and scrape frost from car windows, hugging our selves
    and flapping like penguins. It is November.

  128. Maxie says:

    HIGH TIDE

    When once all (I thought)
    we had was silence,
    the sandy barrier of resistance
    was breached: my name
    carried on the backs of waves
    breaks the shoreline on schedule.

    When all (I thought)
    we had were the hard facts
    of astrology, being lit in a dark expanse
    —burning but alone—
    You limn the surface of the moon
    whose freckled splendor
    reminds me of hope.

    When all (I thought)
    we had was history, the past
    carved my path back to You—
    the swirl of water where my barren
    Feet once stood, pulled close
    by the bright revelation in my night sky—
    The high tide carries my name
    on the backs of waves.

  129. Full Moon—
    as in complete, accomplished,
    and perfectly shaped
    to raise our dreams or apprehensions,
    to feed our mystic cravings, and to
    whisper in our darkened nooks
    of weirdness unseen, unwaited for, and
    un-desired – uneasiness awakened.
    For, after all, we are just beings
    bathed in profuse light,
    clinging to the hope that
    light will not desert us
    to that full moon’s full flavoured grip.

    hopefully, the gremlin is still asleep somewhere in the US, tired of frustrating poets :-D
    nope, he’s not.

  130. Leo says:

    silver mirror
    in my black ceiling,
    why are you blank?
    each time I saw,
    my soul in you,
    when my heart sank.

    in your full smile,
    I found a hope,
    I battled my fear;
    tonight I need,
    that guiding light,
    please come, dear.

    cast away the veil,
    of satin clouds
    come hold my hand;
    for all my sorrow,
    I know you know,
    and you.understand.

    • Oh, nice metaphor for the moon up in the sky as a “silver mirror” So, if you find hope, that would mean it has been reflected there and you, yourself are holding this hope. Look no further, Leo :-)

    • Observer

      At the edge of evening, I stand
      beside the shore, looking into the orb,
      so full, so curiously close.
      I wonder if you, on the other side of yesterday,
      stood in your garden surrounded by the roses
      that remind you of days before.
      Did you look up? Did you leave a message
      for your old teacher to read on moon’s face
      like a well-worn letter pulled from the pages
      of a favorite book, filled with words that
      once were foreign to your eyes?

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