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:
- Me and the Moon, by The Drums
- Moondance, by Van Morrison
- My Moon My Man, by Feist
- Bad Moon Rising, by Creedence Clearwater Revival
- The Killing Moon, by Echo & the Bunnymen
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
*****
…with the latest (and greatest) premium collection. Limited to 100 kits, we’re already down to around 70 (after just one day of sales). The reason? This kit helps all writers (novelists, nonfiction freelancers, and poets) learn how to find readers and build a career out of working with words. Plus, it helps that the entire bundled package is discounted at more than 80% off original retail price. Interested? You should be.
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.
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
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.
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.
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.
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/
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
“Full Moon” (Fibonacci Poem)
Full
Moon
demands
attention:
lone, forlorn starlet
in effervescent platinum
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.
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
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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
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.
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.
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.
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.
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
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.
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.
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.
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.
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
Harvest Moon
Sitting on the wooden porch
Listening to the sounds
Of combines harvesting the wheat
While the Harvest Moon
Illuminates their path.
“Moon On The Lake”
Gentle waves jiggle
its round face
in the wet,
animating
the once flat orb.
Full moon
its silken light
made sharp shadows. My night
suspended in that sight of you:
blinding.
Very nice, Casey! A great visual.
Thanks, WW. Happy Mooning…
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.
Now that’s freaky Paula. Your shadorma flows right into my poem as if I’m replying to it! However, I am no Orion!
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
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….
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
A riveting piece; quite timely, Pearl.
Awww thank you Walt -…. devastation around barrier island is quite surreal – cue – the Twilight Zone theme and call Rod – (I wish it were so).
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
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.
Sorry that’s actually a slightly older one. It just seemed to fit with my frame of mind and the prompt.
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…
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?
Linda, I can’t help with the Comment Gremlins (“You are posting too quickly!” **insert evil voice here), but I can help with the all-bold issue. You have to close the part you want to be bold (your title, I assume, was intended) with this:
Ooops. Apparently you can’t just type the symbols. It’s:
left caret arrow key (the one above the comma), slash, letter b, right caret arrow key (the one above the period)
Apparently it’s too late to undo the bold.
As for the commenting, this year I personally am posting only to my own blog, with link here, and visiting other’s blogs as much as possible and commenting there. It has greatly reduced my tech stress.
***31st try to post this comment…I am not exaggerating…
Hmmm…I did the whole caret – b – caret at the beginning and caret – forward slash – b – caret at the end of the title but it just went bonkers. AND, it looks like it keep doing it for everyone else. NUTS!
Testing
Testing
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?”
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.
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.
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.
Full moon
(a haiku)
The man in the moon
got thrown out this afternoon.
The reason? No room.
Jac, you always always make me smile.
LOL. I was just reading your piece. Simply awesome!!! =D
love this and I love haiku. this is great.
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.
I like this poem. Great job.
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.
Oops, make that a capital I – “In Cameroon…”
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
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.
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
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
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.
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
Very impressive!! I’m going to try this. =D
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.
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?
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.
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.
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
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.
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”.
What a chuckle – I love this, Bruce!
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.
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!
soaring – lightness fills the senses here
Thanks Jane.
“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.
So lovely, Daniel.
Thank you, Yolee
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.
Really enjoying this challenge so far!!
Mine can be found
HERE
looking forward to reading other selections.
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.
enjoyed – a fresh take on this old topic
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.
Really enjoyed this one!
love the imagery of the moon as fickle imp.
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.
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
Ack…should have been:
preparing
for changing seasons
as the moon rises
Wowwweeee…look at me…sandwiched between Walt and Marie!! Two of my favorites!!! <3
And you, our favorite filling! <3 !
A Lesser Light
Drawing lovers, lesser light
Softly, gently rules the night
Ohhhhh. So pretty, Marie.
simple and beautifully alluring
That one made me smile. So sweet.
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.”
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.
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….
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.
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
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-
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
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.
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.
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.
Wow.
full moon
wind chimes singing
from the oak’s low branch
Lovely picture, June. And your name rhymes with the prompt!
Thank you, Karen. My (sadly neglected) blog is junemoontoon.blogspot.com
Speaking of names, I have to add this:
Me and McKuen
I once wrote to Rod McKuen
(and now I’ve given away my age)
He wrote back – a treasured page
And spelled my name Juen.
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.
I like it, it felt like I was riding along with you.
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.
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—-
###
Well done, RJ–spooky, amusing, suspenseful!
Hooray for RJ, for rhyme and rhythm and spooky poetry.
Nice. Two for two.
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.
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.
What a lovely tribute!
I had to rush here and give you big kudos for this. Absolutely lovely. It flows perfectly. I’m sorry you missed their wedding but take comfort in this: This is one awesome wedding present and they’ll be reading this poem for years to come. Good job!!!
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
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.
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.
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/
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.
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!
lol once again Walt
Rising on eastern horizon
Orange like a gaint ball
My granddaughter thinks
Jesus must play basketball
LOL. Thanks for the smile. =)
and you
so far away
hazy moon
Love this.
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.”
Wow, this is fantastic, Jane! Kudos my dear!
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
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.
The moon? She’s nothin’ but a brat. Take that:
http://whimsygizmo.wordpress.com/2012/11/02/a-little-light-reading/
And the winner is… This is just one awesome poem from beginning to end. Nice to “know” you, De. =D
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
eerie journey, so much said in so little space. well done.
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.
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.
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).
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
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
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.
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.
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!)
lol high five, Walt! A chuckle for a chuckle!
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.
Happy mooning, all.
Mine’s here:
http://whimsygizmo.wordpress.com/2012/11/02/throne-of-venus/
de
as always, de finds a slightly slanted path to the prompt, and a lovely, lyrical path it is
Thank you, Sir.
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!
Love it!!!
And now I will have that song in my head all day. But I’m okay with that.
Thanks Rory. One of my favorite movies. So that song plays internally most of the time. Frank Capra was from my hometown and a lot of the Buffalo references are all familiar things.
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.
You had me at that title, and then oh, my, that last line. Fantastic fun.
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
Full Moon
full night,
but not full dark,
the bright Hunter’s Moon shined,
baring all of the prankster’s own
full moon
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.
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
LOL! great stuff (and good luck!)
LOL – awesome!
is it okay if I amend to Johnny Depp every now and then?
full moon
I see your naked backside
at the window
you slip beneath the surface
of a million bubbles
full moon
he carves my face
in the pumpkin
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
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
Ah, reminders of Aykroyd’s Norge repair man. A good chuckle, JW!
lol I remember that! The nerds of Bill Murray and Gilda Radner lol. good stuff
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
btw. I wrote this a few years ago, but it was so
on target for today’s prompt I slipped it in…
It’s new to me, Ellen, and just as fresh as any written today! It is playful and soothing in its way. Well penned!
Thanks Walt. Comments greatly appreciated!
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.
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.
Love the nested alliteration, Marilyn! A wonderful romp!
Thank you, Walt. I’m feeling rather rompy today.
Misky…this is lovely…love the last three lines. Big smiles!
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.
Swinging with you for over three years, and still enjoying the ride. Confirming your poet status once more! Never in doubt, Pard!
Oh, Marie Elena! This is beautiful! Swinging with you would be a joy!
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.
*sigh* Nobody does romance like you. And a sestina barely before sunrise? Amazing.
Wow. That’s all I can say.
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
An unveiling is well depicted, Benjamin! Nicely done.
Thanks Walt!
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.
“wisdom and past pain” a striking mosaic at that! Great one Connie.
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.
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
***
This is quite a stately poem Janet.
Lovely, all!
A hearty string of Haiku, Janet, befitting of it lunar beauty!
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
Misky, posting anything here is a tedious trial which is extremely unfortunate. so many comments I’m sure we all would LOVE to leave but cannot:(
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.
“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.
Lovely dance Jerry.
If this was the only poem I could read today, I would be more than satisfied. Your poetry makes me smile, Chev — every line; every time.
simply honest and meditative…could there be anything better?
giggling leaves – big smile thanks
Love it!
And always choose to dance, Jerry!
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.
brrr, beautiful, coldishly-biting and still comforting that we have “warm beds” to crawl out of
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.
Maxie, what a splendid poem! Flowing gently, like a lullaby.
Lovely images.
Freckled splendor of the moon-
what beautiful imagery
enjoying reading moon poems – my favorite so far loved it
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
nope, he’s not.
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
Yeah Mariya
That’d be good. A hope for ever, and a light too!
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?