Your Song

For Carrie’s wonderful picture prompt at the Sunday Muse Blogspot.

Your Song
“I hope you don’t mind that I put down in words, how wonderful life is while you’re in the world.” Your Song by Elton John

I am the moon in the cold black sky
shining through the lace of
your curtains,
reflecting your face in the shining wood
of your piano.
You are contemplating an piece by Chopin –
the Minute Waltz?
Poloniase in C Sharp Major?
Piano Sonata No. 3?
Maybe something modern –
Maybe – Your Song?
I wait in the blackness
listening for your first note.
I am up here alone –
staring down at the cold earth below me –
frost forming on the grass and cars.
Shadows from the lace of the curtains
forming on your back.
You play the opening riff to Your Song.
The dark earth sleeps beneath me.

Extinct Moon

Extinct Moon
“Now that I’m older, I have a much better appreciation of nature, and I love being alone.” – Gia Coppola

from this day forward
I am wedded to the stars.
the moon becomes extinct,
no longer shines
guiding us along our way.
I’m trying to be like the stars in the sky
shining on nothing;
waiting till the end of my days,
for you.

Night Music

For my prompt at Wednesday Muse

Night Music
“And the night shall be filled with music…”- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

in the summer night I listen
to the cicadas singing to the moon.
down the road apiece
a dog howls in response.
the sound of my breathing is loud
in comparison.
the moon and the stars listen to the music
of it all and say nothing

The Moving Moon

For the prompt at dVerse Poets – movement, moving.

The Moving Moon
“The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas.” – Alfred Noyes

People think the moon stands still.
that is up there in the sky like
a light bulb in the ceiling.
On and off,
Light and dark.
but the moon moves,
in it’s course.
The stars move around it
like a moth or flies about the light bulb.
The earth moves rotating on its axis
and in its orbit.
Only I am still as I stand and look up.
Owls, bats, birds,
deer, rabbits, coyotes,
stray dogs, wolves, cats,
snakes, lighting bugs, cicadas.
They all move too.
They dance with the moon as
it moves at night.

Honesty

For my prompt at Real Toads, using a quote as a springboard for a poem.

 

Honesty
Poetry is not an expression of the party line. It’s that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public, that’s what the poet does.” ― Allen Ginsberg

the night is too long,
too hot even with the air conditioning.
is it only 1:00 a.m.?
thoughts tango around in my brain,
now they are doing a quickstep.
“Honesty is such a lonely word
Everyone is so untrue…”
insipid love poems,
long and rambling poems of
ocean and alcohol, suicide and drugs.
I know, I’ve done them all.
I want to be honest.
I want to be honest.

This Poem is Moon, Stars, and Sun

For Sherry’s prompt at Real Toads, a boomerang metaphor poem in the manner of Hannah Goselin who created the form.  This poem is longer than I like but I have cut it down as much as I can.

This Poem is Moon, Stars, and Sun
This poem is a moon reflected on black water.
This poem is the sun rising over the ocean in an explosion of red.
This poem is the stars floating in the black night sky.

This poem is a green forest rising from the mist.
This poem is green cedars against pure white snow.
This poem is tiny white flowers hiding in spring green grass.

This poem touches us with wonder and awe,
it makes our breath catch in our throats
and look about our feet to not crush those tiny white flowers.

In our wonder and awe we look at the small animals
hiding beneath and under the cedars seeking nourishment and shelter.
The stars fall silent as dust in a dying blaze of fire.
We see the tiny white flowers beneath our feet too late
as we crush them into oblivion.
We weep in sorrow at the death of tiny flowers.
We weep in joy at the rising sun and the night stars
and the moon rippling on the water.
This poem is joy and sorrow,
silence and starry music,
this poem is about living in partnership with the earth.

The Moon on the ocean

For Bjorn’s prompt on dVerse Poets Pub. Today he explores the sonnet. I have written a modern free form sonnet for the prompt as rhymes and I don’t play well together.Also posting on Poets United Poetry Pantry.

The Moon on the Ocean
The moon lies upon the ocean –
a sleeping dragon curled about itself,
one eye half open observing the world below.
Snow falls like meteors – a shower of cold fire
doused in the black water heaving itself
Upon the shore. This moon is red as blood –
The dragon’s eye carnelian in its glow.
Bits of phosphorus twinkle on the sand.
A crab washes ashore and walks a few paces
before being swept back into the blackness again.
Farther from the shore early breaking waves
show white in the blackness and ladders
from the moonshine track back to the moon
undulating gently upon the water. The
moon on the ocean is a mysterious thing.

Coming of Snow

For Real Toads, Marian’s Fussy Little Forms Prompt:  Puente is a rewarding form created by James Rasmusson. The word puente means bridge in Spanish, and–naturally–this lovely form features a bridge. It is a simple idea:  Three stanzas – First and third stanzas have equal number of lines (your choice how many) Middle bridge stanza is one line, enclosed in dashes or tildes.  Middle bridge stanza serves as last line for first stanza and first line for last stanza. I used classic haiku for my stanzas, combining two forms. I am in an odd emotionless time at this point and it is reflected in my poetry.

Coming of Snow
bitter cold morning –
quick whiff of wood smoke before
nostrils become numb

the smell of snow in the air – sharp and sweet

frost forms on window –
moon stays warm among the stars –
quiet night sleeps

Water Moon

For Sanaa’s prompt, “Water” at Real Toads and for Hedge’s 55.

Water Moon
She’s a water moon
hiding behind clouds.
The stars are silent.
Their lights are dimmed.
The moon sighs behind the clouds –
Her bitter tears fall
Lightly tap tap tapping
On the leaves the roofs the roads.
Faster her tears fall
jumping like grasshoppers –
high the raindrops leap –
slightly surpising
a swooping owl.

non-commercial use

Jimson Weed Moon

Unrpompted for Hedge’s 55. I felt a needed a brain cleanse from the prompt earlier this week of Frida Kahlo’s works. In Native American medicine, jimson weed was used as an hallucinogenic along with peyote. I am using the painting of one of my favorite artists, Georgia O’Keefe. This is also posted on Poets United Poetry Pantry.

Jimson Weed Moon
The moon is a Georgia O’Keefe painting.
Stark white against a black sky
in the museum of the night
It hangs perfectly poised,
glowing in its frame of stars.
Jimson weed moon.
Curling its tendrils about the night –
I thought I was hallucinating
but it was just an owl gliding overhead,
silent as dust.

Jimson Weed, Georgia O’Keefe – fair use

Night Curtains

For the Friday prompt at Real Toads: Curtains and for Hedge’s 55 and for Poets United Poetry Pantry.

Night Curtains
Draw back the curtains of the night,
show us the stars and the glowing moon –
Let in the argent light.
Dance to the rhythm of the
speckled shadows –
whisper of the music made by the stars –
pulsing as sure as the blood
in your veins, beating slowly.
Draw back the curtains of the night.

public domain photo

haiku: 122817

frost forms on window –
moon stays warm among the stars –
quiet night sleeps