A place for poems and pics
I Remember
I remember the hoot of an owl
coming from the ancient woods
on a clear winter night, the crackle
of dry leaves as some small creature sought
refuge, and the moon, shining like a spotlight,
on two lost souls who had found each other.
Quadrille #219 – A Poetic Hootenanny
A Simple Request
She didn’t want much –
a touch from a moonbeam
or some such response to
her nighttime entreaty
to the moon that shone down
with benevolent light.
Something she could clutch,
like a sprinkle of stardust
to serve as a nightlight when
nightmares appeared.
Finding Me
Stand in the moonlight, preferably in bare feet
Release a small cathartic howl
Intone a prayer and send it spinning
Listen for the chattering of the wind
Wait for stillness
Turn your face upward
Feel gentle moonbeam kisses
Stretch your fingers skyward
Trace pictures on the dark cavas of night
Close your eyes
Conjure up my being in your heart
Day 7 at Na/GloPoWriMo
Day 3 of April PAD has us writing a connection poem
An Ambiguous Connection
I think there must be a connection
between the Sun and the Moon.
Some hidden connection that pulls
the Sun up and the Moon down.
A thin line of spinning stars
pushing and pulling through
Sunrise to Moonrise.
An invisible line of galactic glory
keeping the Sun and Moon apart.
But every now and then, the stars
drift away, maybe to party,
and the Sun and the Moon
both shine down on me.
Still Waiting
It was a time of bangles and tambourines –
a time of freedom, when we were seventeen
We danced, barefoot, in a field
amid a jungle of wildflowers and kneeled
beneath a cashmere moon, joining
hearts and voices with the universe, rejoicing
We thought we could punch a hole in the future
and our dreams would be the mending sutures
And now, we still strum our guitars,
waiting for the promised avatar
—
When Moon and Stars Conspire
Black night canvas a
conspiracy of moon and stars
lures me from complacency
Do Not Believe
Don’t believe it ……..
when they tell you there is
no gentle man in the moon or shining
stars are just spheres of gas.
For they are fools with hearts
that cannot see the magic
and souls that do not hear the songs.
It Takes Two to Tango
She was a walled flower with two left-over feet
No rhythm flowed or surged through her limp veins
Not beat to match her lonely heart moved her hips
But when the moon was full she shed her shoes and
tangoed alone in the lambent glow of night
Dancing in the Dark
My friend, the moon, is hanging about
In the dark waiting for me to come outside
and dance with him. The wind is whistling a
waltz, so I kick off my shoes gliding across the
grass, as dew drops nibble kisses on my toes.
The Howling Moon
Clear winter night, no clouds,
perfect for watching the full moon rise.
It’s called the Wolf Moon.
I can see my breath, suspended in air, and
wonder about that name. Do you think
this cold winter moon howls for the many
who shiver tonight?
—
rhymeswithbug 