Moon

by

An Idea, A Muse

I dub thee Goddess Moon,

Patron of the painter’s boon

Mistress of the writer’s swoon

–

The world could circumnavigate

This trait, you call thy state

But they would only desecrate—

–

That holy word, this blurred

In bitter flight, bird

I am certain they should call absurd

–

But here you are, a smile

Resting yet upon the winds of wile

Of your fertile guile

–

Merest notion

Of my dearest heart’s devotion—

This world is not yet ready for your motion.

My latest contribution to the wonderful One Shot Poetry Wednesdays! Once you’ve had a look, check out some of the other One Shot Poets as well– they’re a skilled bunch of poets, looking to form a community and support one another.  Enjoy!

by

Summer Nights

Such sweetest nights!

The sun departs, the moon arise

But still the fire burns

As bodies shake and memories sway—

What is that taste

Which sweetens all the dreams

And brightens reverie?

Every time I close my eyes

The world is song and dance,

A mysterium of magic beats

And vibrant color

Swirling through the dance

Of human interaction.

Bright eyes

And soft words,

The whispers of the soul demand

All attention to the fore.

by

We’ve seen the mountains rise from hills…

We’ve seen the mountains rise from hills,

Watched forests bloom from flowers.

We’ve seen the waters rise and fall,

And seen so many setting suns—

Such sights that you could never know.

We walked the world

With loving family, all—

We wandered plains and forests both,

Loved by Mother Earth.

We’ve seen so many moons,

Bathed within so many starry seas—

Yet still it seems our time has come.

In dead of night you wretches came,

Blazing rifles in your hands.

You killed our prey,

You drove us away—

What did we ever do to you?

We fled in our confusion,

But from you there was no hiding.

You tracked us down and shot us dead—

All of my beloved family.

We’ll never see the Moon again,

Nor the freezing of the streams—

The Sun is but a fleeting dream,

The Wind a fading memory.

Where once our noble howls rang,

The land now fades to silence.

I am of race by far your elder—

A brother you betrayed.

Perhaps you will regret

Once we are all no more.

Perhaps a tear will fall

When those children look to you

And with their glittering eyes they ask,

“What is that thing you call a Wolf?”