The Moon at 5 a.m.

At Real Toads we are giving the prompt to use a line from one of our poems – “Out of your own words” and provide a link to the poem. The first line is from a haiku I wrote several years ago https://kanzensakura.wordpress.com/2015/05/25/%e5%8d%8a%e6%9c%88-hantsuki-half-moon-haiku/
here is the link for Real Toads: http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com/  I am also linking this to Poets United, Poetry Pantry:  http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com/

The Moon at 5 a.m.
summer half moon drifts in a sea of blue –
the moon sits close to the horizon
getting ready to go to sleep.
the coming of day –
the smell of a new morning
just stirring and getting ready to rise.
the moon at 5 a.m. is a mysterious thing.
summer is winding down –
the moon Is a mystery –
at 5 a.m. the world is still asleep.
I sit on my back steps and watch
the world awakening.
the moon at 7 a.m. is a baroque pearl
Misshapen and beautiful.
but I love the mystery of the moon at 5 a.m.
in the cool of grey dusk
when it is just a floating sliver of silver
in the cobalt sky.
the moon is a mysterious thing at 5 a.m.

morning moon1

copyright kanzensakura

dVerse Poetics: The End

Today at dVerse Paul is giving the prompt for us. His theme is “The End” – end of life, end of love, end of the world, the Last Samurai – The End.  http://dversepoets.com/2017/08/01/the-end/   Come visit us and read the poems inspired by The End. This is also being posted for the Tuesday Open Forum at Real Toads: http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com/2017/08/the-tuesday-platform.html

The End
Life is never promised.
someday, we will pass through time –
the world just stops under silent control.

On the platform where trains never come
this reality, faintly shining –
Like leaves blowing in the wind –
at the crossing, crowded with figures
this reality, faintly shining –
Pushing aside the veil of the world,
the truth is always a paradox.

As this era comes to its end,
we’ll wake up from our slumber.
Both profound darkness and
the light of hope lurk inside us.
As the curtain is being raised for another era,
we’ll cross the bridge of this spotless world.

On the platform where trains never come
this reality, faintly shining.

 

public domain photo

 

Real Toads – Buildings

Kim is hosting the weekend challenge on Real Toads – http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com/ Kim says: “What I like about it (Philip Larkin’s poem The Building) is the way in which the poem conveys the physical appearance and atmosphere of a hospital without once using the term ‘hospital’, through the use of certain words and connotations.
Today’s challenge is to write about a building. It could be a specific building with a name that we would all know without directly naming it. It could be a church, a school or a building in which you have lived. It could be a department store, a government building or a concert hall. It is up to the reader to work out what the building is. Your She wants us to write about buildings without naming the building specifically or using the term of building.”

The Flowerbox
it’s a yellow flowerbox –
floralled with fresh and fast fading blooms.
it’s a yellow flowerbox
buzzed by bees butterflies ladybugs –
it’s a yellow flowerbox
watered and fed well –
it’s a yellow flowerbox
plucked and weeded –
it’s a yellow flowerbox
neglected and forgotten –
filled with fast fading blooms

Snow

For Real Toads https://withrealtoads.blogspot.com/2017/07/fireblossom-friday-bang-youre-dead.html Fireblossom Friday: Bang! You’re dead. Writing from beyond the grave….mwahahaaaaaaaa

Snow
drifting off
falling asleep
dreaming
opening the window
and gliding out into the snow
no footprints
no steamy breath
no weight no pain no sadness
walking into a dream
of slow falling snow
using the snowflakes
like stepping stones
walking up to the sky
walking on the tops of trees
of roofs of streetlights
covered with snow
slow falling snow
slow
falling…

Dreaming Corn

for Michael at Read Toads.  http://withrealtoads.blogspot.se/2017/07/get-listed-july.html    I am doing my first prompt for Real Toads using some of the words listed.

Dreaming Corn
rows of corn dream under
the peach ice cream moon.
crickets drone and birds sleep.
the sun begins to rise in shades
of raspberryorangelemon sherbet
and already at 6:00 a.m. it is 90 degrees
worth of heat. Birds begin to
sing, talking to one another
as they fling themselves to the blue sky
and back to the corn.
the stalks of corn form a cathedral
built of tall green towers
and music of rustling leaves.
birds tell each other of ants on this stalk,
crickets hiding under a fallen stalk
and flying bugs buzzing about.
ripening ears listen to the gossip.
the heat is a sweat of moist green.
until at dusk the birds discuss sleep
and slowly grow silent.
rows of corn dream under
the peach ice cream moon.

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