Tag: Moon

Waif

Following the old lines
of lost sad fishermen
up from the depths
to the empty nets
salt glistening from the
tickle of the moon’s
light on the ghost ships
plying the night
on the Great Lakes
I found a poem
A smallish waif
afraid of the dark
Unwilling to wet its
toe on the page

Request (Invocation)

Oh great owl
Ruler of the night
wings outstretched
in silent flight
Hearing and seeing
the tiniest things
invisible things
secret things
Sister of the moon
bathed by her light
Messenger in a
thousand dreams
come and take me
to your forest keep
where I can seal away
this pain

Bright Harvest

What better light for
half drunk poets and
madmen
(they are equally alike)
than a full bright moon
A harvest moon
excited and beaming
to loose the reaper
on ripe human sheaves
To relieve delirious
creative souls from
their bodies on
imagination’s
threshing floor

Lost One

I started
but couldn’t make
a go of it
I had
the sun
the moon
and a bit about morning
on the other side of the world
but Saturday afternoon poems
can be elusive creatures
and it got away
That’s okay
It was old
and didn’t have much
meat on it anyway

Evening Run

I let my imagination go
Through a shining meadow
of star-tipped grass it loped
Up the hill that touched the moon
where it swooned and kissed her face
before racing into the forest and
dancing round a mound with the
Sidhe Fae then returning
full circle as usual

begging for a treat

Comes The Night

Comes the night
when my sight
will no longer serve me
mere ashes blowing across
the earth
so if I find any beauty
in the moon and stars
up there
it will do no harm at all
to stare
to spare
a few extra moments
in silent awe
to imprint them
upon my soul

The Sun Also Sets

The sun is setting
and I let him go

Freely I released him

No tearful plea to grant
more day     I understand
He must stay on track
for his scheduled
appearance just back
of that mountain yonder
where farmers and
soldiers and
school bus drivers
in far away places
will lift their heads
from their restless beds
at the first glimpse of his
bright shining face and
here

above me
the moon will nudge
the slumbering stars
and proclaim
their time
to shine

Silently She Speaks

As her breeze swivels
the last few leaves
of the sweet gum tree
ticklishly
I’m certain it
means something

Something deep

A secret something
Autumn is keeping from me
for her own good reasons
I imagine
She knows
I am fickle
and may betray
sensitive particulars
while under the influence
of the moon and red wine
Still I pine
to know but
I can only
feel her breath
Her lips
remain closed

Bad Bargains

Share no trust with
wingless Cardinals
too dark to fly
swearing to know
the light in the sky
Nor trust the
lion’s gratitude
from whose foot
you removed a thorn
He will consume you
with that selfsame
gratitude when
hunger looms
and never, ever
trust the moon
on a blue night
fat with stars
Enamored by her light
Captive to her charm
You’ll pledge your heart
to wake alone at dawn

Think, Think, Think!

Pen to paper
Simple strokes
down and
up and
around
amounting to
nothing profound
and the sun
will soon
slide below
the horizon
wanting no part
of my mind’s
ponderous
pondering

For that
we have
the moon,
and thunder
in the night,
and great horned owls
in deadly, silent flight
or as Pooh
might opine,
“Oh, bother”