Submit Your Poems
Get Your Premium Membership

Narrative Moon Poems | Narrative Poems About Moon

These Narrative Moon poems are examples of Narrative poems about Moon. These are the best examples of Narrative Moon poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

If you don't find the poem you want here, try our incredible, super duper, all-knowing, advanced poem search engine.

Details | Narrative | |

The Devil's Tide

I looked up at a silver moon 
Peering through a cloud of misty gloom 
As we sailed across the Atlantic Sea 
That fateful night in June 
 
And as I stood upon the bow 
A furrow crossed my troubled brow 
When I saw a dying star fall from the sky 
As the wind out of the north 
Began to cry 
 
'Twas then with fearful heart 
I came at last to realize 
That we were sailing 
On a wave of ill-tidings 
Known as 'The Devil's Tide' 
 
For no omen of the sea 
Brought more fear than thee 
A fallen star -  a silver moon 
Together in the month of June 
If legend true would surely bring us doom 
 
So with no trace of land in sight 
We sailed onward through the night
I -  the Captain 'Louie Lou' 
With my faithful crew 
Aboard the 3 mast schooner 'Angel - of the Blue' 
On canvas wings we flew 
Upon the wailing wind that blew 
 
Then suddenly a hush of malaise 
Crushed the summer night
Filling all the crew with dreadful fright 
As all the stars in heaven lost their light 
And the silver moon dipped completely out of sight 
Leaving us to drift without guidance 
To our unknown plight 
 
An eerie sound began to roll out of the west 
Growing louder and louder as we held our breath 
Until it was upon us and the ship began rise 
As we looked in horror into the Devil's eye 
As the Angel of the Blue began to fly 
Up the Devil's breast she climbed 20 fathoms high 
 
One by one the Angel's wings were torn away 
As she fought to save us from the Devil's rage 
Screams of horror falling from her timber sides 
As the crew fell into the Devil's tide 
 
And I -  tethered to the helm -  watched them die 
As we climbed even higher into the Devil's eye 
And as the Angel's body creaked and cracked
We finally scaled the crest and rode upon the Devil's back
Just before I fainted and my world went black 
 
I woke up in the morning high on a mountain side 
Never knowing just how I had survived 
knowing only that my Angel and my crew had died 
 
~~~ 
 
Many years have come and gone since then 
And I am forever haunted by each and every one of them 
My faithful crew and my mighty 'Angel of the Blue' 
 
I see their faces in my dreams 
As I awaken to their screams 
Wishing, too -  that I had died 
But someone had to live 
To tell the tale of the 'Devil's Tide'.

~~~~~~~~

Author:  Elaine George
Entry for contest:  Legends
Awarded:  First Place





Details | Narrative | |

The Mermaid and the Moon

She climbed the liquid staircase
Just to gaze at gleaming stars;
All she wanted was a wee one
To light up her fair boudoir.

A thousand times she spied them
Flash across the midnight sky;
She strained so high to catch one,
But the mermaid could not fly.

Exhausted with hard striving,
She lay back against the sea,
Rocking on the waves, gently, 
As she rested peacefully.

The moon, climbing his set arc,
Saw her glist'ning on the foam;
At first sight so madly loved 
Her, longing to take her home.

To lightly comb her flowing
Hair, he sent a small moonbeam,
Who tangled in her tresses
And woke her from her dream.

With a flash, her glitt'ring tail
Slapped the water and she fled,
Sliding down in the ocean,
Hiding in her pearl lined bed.

The moon, absent one moonbeam,
Wanders heaven, round and round,
Surveying seas and oceans,
Praying his mermaid is found.

Sometimes in the deep, dark pool
He sees a shining light start
Beneath the frothing billows,
And he clutches for his heart.

Forever in his orbit...
She, forever in the waves,
Her hair with his beam glowing,
All of love he ever gave.

May 31, 2014


Details | Narrative | |

I drift into the night

I dream about a day that may never come,
I watch my life unravel, simply come undone.
My feet begin to drag as I walk across the floor,
Still I cannot wait for what the future has in store.

I go out for a walk as the sun is getting low,
The sky explodes in colors as I watch it go.
It kisses the horizon and then it goes away,
It seems to mark the end of just another day.

I stand upon a hill as the light begins to fade,
I think about the day, decisions that I made.
Light begins to falter as it all goes dark,
I feel this spark growing inside my heart.

I look into the valley as the darkness grows,
I see the sparks of fireflies they seem to glow.
I hear the birds sing they soon will retire,
I look up at the moon it appears to be on fire.

The stars up above look like diamonds in the sky,
I watch the lights on planes as they streak by.
I think of the darkness filled with all these lights,
They seem to be like beacons to guide me through the night.

I lay upon the grass and gaze upon the stars,
They sparkle so bright in a sky dark as tar.
I close my eyes and imagine I can fly,
Travel to the moon as it rises high.

The day has give way to the wonders of the night,
Everywhere I look, I catch another sight.
As time flies by, I wonder where it went,
A breeze blows, carrying a floral scent.

I climb from the hill it’s time to go to bed,
Visions of the night still dancing in my head.
Soon tomorrow shall become today.
The sun will rise and the stars will go away.


Details | Narrative | |

What Colour

What Colour?

What colour are the oceans?
On warm summer days the oceans are crystalline blue, with bright streaks
Of ivory flouting on the crest of each wave just before it crashes down
Into total oblivion!

And what colour are the mountains that enkindle a dying sun?
The mountains are bright red, like a burning ember in the flame
Of fire off our multimillion mile star, as it slowly dips to rest
Till the morning!

Oh what colour is a new born child?
A child holds the beauty of youth in colours that span the years of its parents 
Age, until the greying colour of passing seasons takes away the child in us all.

And what colour is the moon above us?
In late fall the moon flickers in shades like lucent charcoal as it slowly cools,
Then turns to black!

What colour are our hopes, what colour are our dreams?
Nevermore are our hopes mixed in the colour of our dreams, for in wake our 
Soul equates the mind for a second then is gone.

And what colour stands for the worth of our lives?
The motionless quiet waits silent, bound between colors more radiant than our past
But still more mysterious than our future

                  By M. Norton
















The motionless quiet waits silent, bound between colours more radiant then our past
But still more mysterious then our future


                      By M. Norton


Details | Narrative | |

Overheard Myself

                      I overheard
          a four-year old ask his dad
      why he saw the moon at daytime,
               but never saw the sun
                         at night.


                  Quite unprepared,
        the father pondered for a while
          on how to explain the matter
              with an answer truthful
                        and right.


                 I grinned, recalled
          I was four, my dad fumbled,
         same question, same delight,
         pale moon out there in broad
                         daylight!


Details | Narrative | |

A BIRTHDAY KISS

written 20th Aug 2001


As I woke up this morning
 instantly, I began mourning
For "I should be holding you, this special day
 but, I know that there "is no possible way

Wondering, if you'd think that I would forget
 is just "one more thing, I am left to regret
I pray, that we will be re-united together again, real soon
 till then, I've blown you a birthday kiss, I sent via the moon

Overwhelmed, I feel as if I love you even more "today
 "yes, today is special, after all it is your birthday
But, I couldn't forget you, no if's, but's or maybe
 for you were blessed, forever to be my baby

You are now my "six year old lovable, Hannabelle
 and no one on Earth, could "ever love you as well
Known now for eternity, making this a very special day
 t'was only this day, you became my daughter in every way

 
                              written for my daughter Hannabelle
                       *For a mothers love is never bound by distance*


Details | Narrative | |

Upon The Wind

It was a still October night when I was cold and all alone
as through the forest of my mind in thought I wandered on my own
The moon lay hidden by the clouds that rested heavy on my eyes
and as I stumbled through the dark I felt the wind begin to rise
I heard my name upon the wind as he was flying through the night
he called to me to come to him so he could take me on his flight
In soothing tones he spoke to me, his voice sang gentle through my mind
and in a flowing melody he spoke of wonders I would find

The wind sang out to me that night and with his song I was entranced
and it was windward  my thoughts turned as in my heart his tempest danced
But still my feet stayed on the ground for I was too afraid to fly
and as the wind washed over me in mournful howls I heard him cry
As indecision split my mind my eyes were stinging with my tears
and tenderly with his caress he tried to ease me from my fears 
Across my face his gentle breath had blown the clouds out of my eyes
and then he summoned to the moon who came to light my darkened skies

And when the moon had risen high his servants came into my sight
these waiting visions that I saw were whispers in the silver light
They came to carry me to him who now is waiting there for me
they said they'd help me find my way into his arms where I'd  fly free
They said they wouldn't let me fall, they told me that they understand
and so I let them lead the way as I had given them my hand
Then I was lifted off the ground and we were soaring through the sky
and as I came into his arms he took away my fear to fly

Above the earth he carried me and as I watched it spin around
from in the heavens I could see all of the wonders to be found
I'll fly forever in his arms, among the stars where I will play
across the never ending sky, the spinning world so far away
Upon the wind you'll hear my song as we are sailing through the sky
and joyous is the song I sing as we are scaling ever high
I am alive upon the wind,  I'm flying in his arms tonight
and like an echo I will fade as we are blowing out of sight......




Inspired by Elaine Georges' Tell Me A Story contest


Details | Narrative | |

Lone Wolf

Lone Wolf” Written by John Moses Freeman A lone wolf far from the pack of his concern, entertains by flute in hopes of an appearance from Great White Father. Many moon have passed and no sacred white buffalo have been seen or heard of by himself or any of the other members of the tribe. It is always a bad omen to go for so many moons without a sacred appearance of a single white buffalo. Separating himself from the rest of the tribe eliminates the possibility of any bad medicine of unsacred mistakes that might have possibly been made by any of the other braves. Fasting for days Lone Wolf rescinds the weaker part of his soul, giving over to the spirit world. That he might be worthy of the divine appearing presence of the Great White Father. Should the Great White Father decided to divinely grant this mortal His holy appearance from inside the spirit world. Lone Wolf's proof of worthiness is his abstaining from food until his unworthy fleshly senses have rescinded; into the lower depths of darkness of the soul and obliged Lone Wolf’s sacred sense, giving over to the authority of the spirit of his stronger essence. The nature of the trees of the woods, the air, the water, the sun of day and the moon of night are the image of the lesser senses that must be respected, for they are given to the lesser man’s needs in the lesser world as shelter and food. But today Lone Wolf plays his flute for the purpose of entertaining a presence of the Great White Father of mother earth. He will fast and play until his inner essence becomes one with the essence of creation! By this divinely granted appearance he will receive spiritual council and rectify his tribe with good medicine and receive new direction correcting the bad omen. The white buffalo will appear in the herd again! For and in Honor of Constance La France ~ A Rambling Poet And Contest: Tell HIS Story


Details | Narrative | |

GULF SHORE MOON

Hot summer sand

Tiny pinpricks of fire dance against my bare back

I vaguely realize I’ve slipped off the blanket

But it’s all right    my arms are not entangled

my hands free to run through his hair

Silken strands flowing between my fingers

I inhale his special scent of sea    salt    and sweat



Water lapping at my toes

At my bikini laying unnoticed on the shore

Waves breaking over our bodies

Icy cold rushing in to meet sweltering heat

as the moon spills her sultry glow

to make it seem we are swimming in honey

I feel the tide flow in and back out again

Surging over and over in that ageless rhythm

we think is ours alone



Our expression of love

is as natural and elemental as the tides

As the moon    the stars    and the look in his eyes

Home is a thousand miles away

in the land of cornfields and clay

Home is a thousand light years away

in the time before I threw my inhibitions away

during a hot summer night

And was loved

on the gulf shore in the moonlight







For Blame It On The Moon Contest sponsored by Poetess Darkly


Details | Narrative | |

The Inquisitors

Right from before birth,
All men has got the talent of being
A philosopher.
There we where,
Still pondering,
Should we go?
Should we not come?
Before mother
Without our permission
Pushed us out.
Some said we cried tears of joy,
But was it?

As a child,
We always wondered
So many things
That even father and mother
Stopped to bother.
Is the bird a plane?
Is the plane a bird?
We never thought wrong
Of walking about with pants,
But we always wondered
Why does she bends to pee?
Any why do I stand to wee-wee?

Growing older,
Into a teenager,
We kept the questions on
Is the moon round and beautiful?
Is the moon C shaped like we see?
Where is the sun at night?
Does the star sleeps by day?
And though we've been told not to,
We still will ask,
Should I love?
Why should I not have sex?
One rather 'wise' question
We shall never cease to ask,
Some ask themselves,
Others, ask others;
Does love really exists?

Its quite funny,
How the questions never cease
And how they hardly repeats,
With different questions,
At different times
On manytimes different things.
Even when the God-given
Beautiful black hair turns grey.
We still inquire,
When will death come?
How will she come?

Even now as you read, you ask;
What do we learn from this?
As some will also ponder;
Did he really do this?
Won't you?
Despite I am here, still asking
Should we stop pondering?
Same me, still thinking,
Should I have written this?


Details | Narrative | |

The Moon

A full moon is rising
And there is no avoiding it
I can not escape this evil face
There`s nowhere to hide 
 From this sinister, white smile
From this victorious gaze
For the moon knows everything
It sees through me
It reads my thoughts 
I suffer from being exposed
Looking at its translucent light
Finally, I submit to it and confide in it:
``Nobody loves me.
My life is unfulfilled.``
It smiles gaily and gives me
Its silver light
The feeling  of sorrow is gone
Being unhappy was just
A silly, silly dream


Details | Narrative | |

Lunar Eclipse

We canoed lazily downriver.
"This was a good idea," she said.
"What a great way to watch
the moon turn black."

Silently, we drifted, eyes to the sky.
As the moonscape disappeared, 
we found ourselves shivered 
by a spectacle.

Snakes uncoiled, slithered 
along the banks, sliced the water,
    	slid onto logs, 
menaced the side of the canoe.

Through a startled intake of breath,
she whispered, "What can we do?"

"Stay still, don't rock the boat."

"They're everywhere," her voice cracked.

"Hang tight."

Two asps sluiced above the prow.
I paddle-flung the intruders
backwards with a whack.

The moon popped into view, 
 	scattered diffused light.
Instantly the snakes were gone. 
Not a single one in sight.

"Screw this," she said. 
"Get me Home."


Details | Narrative | |

White Moon

  
There was one midnight hour when I stood alone beyond my bed, in the shadowed room I was the child in the white flannel gown watching a white moth fly and a white moon rise The family slept..except for me They never heard creaks in the wooden floor or the squeak of the hinge on the old screen door I climbed down the steps into the fresh night air and was swallowed deep in the sequined sky Something was whispering, from beyond the hedge murmuring words, as a prayer, unsaid Yet, I knew it was cunning, I knew it was wise Temptation enticed me to follow the sound It spoke with the drum of the cricket's thunder I stood under the canopy of a million stars Without hesitation, or a fear, unknown Lit by the bleach of the crescent moon I knew in the moment, I was not alone The fragrance of jasmine, was caught in the breeze flying swift as a dove, to comfort me It picked me up, far off the grass Where I could see beyond the past Back in my room, tucked into the sheets Watching a white moth fly, and the white moon leave
-----------------------------


Details | Narrative | |

Full Moon's End

Sick of the monsters
that track my steps,

given the chance I'd
lay them to rest.
Following my
thoughts,
they trail my every
move.
Gotta lose 'em
before the moon
sets.
Grab my carving set
and begin to think
violently.
Grabbing their
attention- I get the
upper hand.
Stabbing through
their frail skin, 
I find the image of
blood in and on my
hands,
Cross-eyed and close
to the cliffs edge.
The moonlight sheds
time on the
monster's young
mind, 
and i drop my knife.
For they are me, I
was them, and soon
we will be together
again.
Looking back it was
a full moon's end.


Details | Narrative | |

Beware The Full Moon

Tonight, the full moon is out. I can hear the howls echoing throughout the forest. Go ahead, 
don't believe me, but don't say I didn't warn you. Every night like tonight, he returns.

About ten years ago, in this very town, there was a gentle man named Eric Masterson. The 
town looked to him as a kind, gentle, and passionate man. He was the towns doctor and vet. 
People could come to him for anything, even just to talk about something on their mind. He 
was there to listen to everyone. One night, three children were on their way to a friends 
house. It was late at night, and the children wandered off into the forest. Around midnight, 
with a full moon in the sky, the children decided to sleep against a tree that had been 
chopped down a while ago. One of the children woke up from their sleep, and decided to go 
down to the stream to get a drink. While the other two children were sleeping, the child 
walked down a small path to the stream. While walking, he heard strange noises coming 
from the trees, and the shaking of bushes. He started to get worried, and decided to head 
back to the others. When he turned around, he noticed that the path was gone. He shouted 
out, "HELP!", and listen for a reply. About thirty seconds later, the howl of a wolf was heard, 
and it was not far at all. He ran and ran. not knowing where he was going. While running, he 
heard giant footsteps following him, along with the howling noises surrounding. Finally, he 
made it back to their campsite. He thought it would be best to wake the other, and rush 
home immediately, even though they did not know where they were. He went to wake the 
others, but when he came to a good glimpse of them, they were covered in blood, and torn 
to shreds. He started to panic, and heard that the giant footsteps were getting closer. He hid 
in a bush, and sat there silently....he heard nothing. He was waiting for something to show 
up. He felt accomplished of fleeing from the creature, that was until he felt breathing coming 
from behind him. He quietly closed his eyes, and was torn to shreds. The next day, the 
family of the children went to Masterson's house to ask for help finding their children. They 
slammed the door open, and in the middle of the floor, was a small corpse, and Masterson, 
covered in blood, except, Masterson was still breathing.

The town said they disposed of Masterson, but that cannot be true. I see shadows all around, 
and I still hear the howls at night. Stay inside, and beware the full moon.


Details | Narrative | |

The Old Oak Tree

The tangible sunrays cast their lights to haze,
withering the moments in a day,
but the moon foreshadows its hue of white
across the darkness of the night.
In the wooden trails under the moonlit hour,
that old oak tree stood as a tower,
bowing its head filled leaves to the ground,
as though praying or royalty to be found.
And the bark is elder, no longer a rich thick brown,
but grayness is its coat who always frowns.
The brittle roots and twigs overlap each other, 
The trunk was sturdy as a man but more care giving like mother.
And the nature breath's chills the wood,
from a solemn warmth to goosebumps who intrudes.

The old Oak tree whimpers and woos from the leaves
rustling a whisper to the boy who weaves
his arms, and swings himself amongst the highest point.
He sits to watch the beautiful join
between the passage of the moon and the sun.
The sky is stolen from the moon; the night be done.
And the Old Oak tree, once again, overviews the day
of the tangible tangerine sunrays cast their lights out of haze.
And the little boy still sits until the sprinkle of rain and drizzles roam.
He climbed down the gray old trunk and heads back home.

And the old oak tree smiles, never so gleefully before.
And wishes for the little boy to appreciate him once more.



 


Details | Narrative | |

Osmosis

Autopilot tired
broken wings
sore in soaring flight
fluttering, down-spiral 
clouds streaming beyond fog 
drowsy
then, 
three barrel rolls
swirling through silver light
simulcast storm shakes black topsoil
mineral enriched,
vitamins collide,
seep through porous skin
providing synthesized eruptions
cataclysmic spasms drop knowledge undetected by erudition
 
Thick walls wobble, crack, then begin to close in on the thin skull
a metaphysical transformation manifests 
three!
three!
threes permeate 
preserving Oblivion...
 
Earth, moon, stars
proton, neutron, electron, 
mother, father, child

Fertile land dissolves for the horizon
turquoise soaks toes
and so 
an enigmatic awakening 
idle imagination swiftly shifts gears here
from stationary stone 
to being thrown through the moon
effervescent agitation bubbling oceans strewn
triggering intensity
tridimensional trepidation 
sleet sheets pelt clipper ships

Parochial, no longer the vision
mood scoots through sinister to happy-go-lucky 
three grim blankets lift from melodramatic souls

This mighty universe revolves
aflame with AGAPE...

                                         (*sappy to sophisticated)
The final oscillation 


©2014 ~JSL PoetTreez Publishing


Details | Narrative | |

Love notes

The full moon hung heavily in the heaven's
Reflecting on the water below
The ocean waves played a melody
Lulling peacefulness into
the stillness of the night.
A virginal vision dressed in white
rides upon her white steed.
Throughout the forest
a fine mist, hangs
Glistening, the woods
in fairy like glow.
The stars twinkled, in sad refrain,
the ocean, lapped timelessly ,upon the shore
Mimicing the beating of the heart.
She gazes, over the ocean ,where,
the full moon illuminates.
Her crystal tears, flow.
In her hand, letters,
written but never sent.
Love notes, that will never be read.
For, he died that day
Never declaring the love she felt
Now all that remains
Pieces of paper
Written but never sent.


Details | Narrative | |

Rotting Metal Pines

The moon is low, so
I smile(d) at the
dark sky and the
stars that shine. I
speak to ones below.
I let my feet grab
the ground around
the rotten metal
pines. I move slow.
My drowning thoughts
catch wind of a fine
breeze, and are
brought to the
surface just in
time. Met by a dull
glow. And yet led
away to a spot
between two tall
trees. What was dark
is getting darker. 
The cloud overhead
is a monstrosity, I
hope it don't
swallow me whole. My
hands, in fear, grab
whatever's near. And
the time begins to
tick quicker than I
thought was
possible. It was a
fallen stick of
pine, it was
something I could
yield if foes broke
(my) fence.
Something i could
use in a panicked
defense. But
feelings I felt soon
pass(ed) fast. So I
broke that pine
stick, and choose it
for shovel, not
sword.  And I dig
myself a hole,
somewhere to sit my
(tired) spine. I
take a glance.  The
moon pulls my inside
tides. Makes me
question what's
real, and even
what's not. So I
crawl(ed) inside my
head, 'cuz it's all
I got.


Details | Narrative | |

Deep in the piney woods

Deep in the piney woods
A call beckons across the branch
A call that isn't animal nor human
A call that makes your hair stand alert and skin prickly from fright!

The light of the full moon awakens the spirits and the calling from the piney woods.
If you doubt my story and risk your very life, then make sure you take a 
weapon into the piney woods. Well, I believe the call is from the ghost of the moon 
shiners that have lost their lives in the mica mines many years ago. 
The mica was 
big business one time until the mines went dry.
The deep holes were perfect cover for the moonshine stills until
the revenuers caught the culprits. A great gun battle raged until death. 

Today the crumpled mica shimmer in the red clay is all that is left of the mines. 
The local children like to scare 
themselves with the 
abandoned rock graveyard along the edge of the piney woods. If you look close at 
the mound of rocks...it appears that there is a bony hand protruding from the grave 
and  pointing directly at you to leave. The ancient thick cedar trees seem to
guard the graves and whisper "Warning, Warning."  

In 1969 there was another vilolent firey death on the road through the piney woods. 
A man died inside a burning wrecked truck, screaming 
"Don't let me burn to death" repeatedly until the bitter charred end. 
When the moon is right the echo carries his screams across the hills.
 A young man only age seventeen lost his life in a fatal car wreck on 
the steep curved road. His life was taken so fast; he is said to walk 
the hills searching for his sweet ride to
 carry him on his journey, unaware of his eternal fate.

On a short walk along the shallow creek bank reveals an old rock formation covered 
in moss now but built by a people of long ago. Maybe Indian or early settlers, 
no one knows the architects but if you stand in a certain spot where the
 ground is always wet with a reddish ooze. You can feel a cold icy finger 
across your face and neck. 

Is the call a young buck calling his bride in the after life; is the call an 
evil doer fighting to avoid beelzebub's snare? The apparition can be seen 
briefly if you desire look when the wind and moon are right. Waynesville 
holler offers more
 than beauty in the day but beware of the moon lit walks that
 young lovers 
brave or you
 may be the next victim of the piney woods!


Details | Narrative | |

Bottle

A common occurance lately is to see a discarded bottle floating in the creek or on the 
side of the road. It was three am and I had a serious delirium working on my mental 
state; and a bottle started spinning and morphing into a rocket ship. The ship formed 
before my eyes into a bright lime green beauty of a vessel. The speaker stated that 
the flight will be leaving as scheduled and all should board appropriately and 
promptly. I decided well why not! I need a big adventure to tell my grandkids one 
day. I was fitted with a special space suit and mask. The monitors were all lit and 
flashing then the count down started. I wanted to run but could not get off the 
vessel due to the doors had been sealed tight. I said a prayer and closed my eyes as 
the g-force melted me to the seat with an intensity I had never known before; It was 
like my eyes were about to explode into space. Suddenly there was silence and 
weightlessness and I could not comprehend reality. The speaker stated that it would 
be docking  on the moon in one hour and I should be ready for a moon walk. Well 
who would not want to walk on the moon?? Right on schedule I took a giant leap for 
women being the first to walk on the moon. Hillary was real mad she couldn't beat 
me to the door! Bill was still stuck in his seat with Monica. Yep I was glad to catch 
the morphing bottle late that night...what a wild ride to tell the grandkids!


Details | Narrative | |

Moonscaping: Riding The Tail of A Comet

My friends and I are having a social gathering up in the Universe

It's a half moon

I ponder; Is the moon half full or half empty?

We notice to our suprise and amazement the tail of a comet

It's hues of glittered dust are pink, green, blue, and silver

It has red cushions on it for everone to sit

We hop on one by one and squat meditational style

And we ride the tail of the comet

As we explore the immense Universe

It's brilliant trailing blazes of glory

Star candles flicker

We ride quicker and quicker

Much like life it goes out like a flicker

We land again on the moon which is half full

No need for a wic and a bic up on the full moon

By Susan J. Mills


Details | Narrative | |

contemplating the depths

Tonight, the girl explores
how the grains of sand retreat
from the harsh steps that her feet
take along deserted shores.
Not so long since eager bride
took a husband by her side
until death?
                  the moon said no.

The water hums and roars
while the winds temper the heat
from the burn of his deceit
and his words down empty shores -
how the passion now had died,
nothing more could she provide.
'did he love me?'
                   the moon said no.

Empty now, the dresser drawers
lying open in defeat
letting his soft smell retreat,
lost forever from these shores.
She wondered: 'if I cried
would the waves or would the tide
even notice?'
                    the moon said no.


Details | Narrative | |

Under the full moon she was

Even before birth, she was bedeviled with claws,
Her dark skin still dry even when it rains and pours,
Leaning forward she tries to cut the African papaws;
Through it all, under the full moon she was.

It was sad when they beheaded the outlaws,
Their culture never stood on a pause.
Obeying the elders, her heart misses the one she loves;
Through it all, under the full moon she was.

The nights silence let her know that a bee can buzz,
the moon drifts, inevitable was the cause.
She regretted the day tradition labelled her family outlaws;
Through it all, under the full moon she was.



Details | Narrative | |

The assasination of Margaret May

The wind was blowing,
as the car was going,
across the hills ; across the vales
the night seemed young , as each nightbird sung 
to the moon there long and timeless tales.
Then, at midnight hour
the chauffeur rested, his iron fists upon  the wheel.
There it was,
The mansion of Margaret May, 
whose life tonight I shall verily seal.
I approached the moors like a silent hound
I scaled the walls then climbed the mounds
And though the night was dark and still
I still saw the great house upon the grey hill.
I scanned each wing like a wolf would see,
a sheep as it feeds with humility,
and yet it was no prey, that I was to kill,
for the hounds, they now bayed upon each hill.
The moon gleamed its mischief upon the terrace;
And it shined, like an unearthly thing,
it gleamed its sorrow upon my face,
and wailed its scorn, against the human beings.
I entered the house 
the doors were not locked,
so I opened them slowly and its  walls they did talk.
They spoke of devils and demons and familiar kind;
But I did not see them for my soul was blind.
I took out the weapon and its barrel shined,
by the light of the moon thay was now declined.
And having climbed up the ladder,  to the rooms upstairs,
I found  May just finishing her prayers.
She turned around and I gazed at her eyes;
How could such beauty be 'bought' to demise?
I dropped the weapon,
no bullet could shred;
The flesh of the mortal,
that before me was spread.
And yet she would die for the world could not accept,
what in this masion was hidden and kept.
She was not lustful but lust itself 
and yet I could not stop myself.
For I had no soul,
I had no sin,
I went for her throat, and held tight her chin.
She did not struggle;
She did not plead.
Rather she smiled, till I had finished the deed.
And left her silent;
And still upon her bed,
and there she lies smiling,
but her heart is cold and dead


Details | Narrative | |

alchemic gold within'

the sun rises and casts it's light on earth, as the sun sets, the moon appears
to cast it's shadow of darkness, with the exception of the sun reflecting it's light on 
the surface of the moon. now.........if our spiritual light has descended into matter,
our physical being, being a shadow of our spiritual self, then like the moon, in a 
sense, everything in front of us is a reflection of our spiritual self as our physical 
is a shadow of our spiritual, like the sun and the moon.
the light of the sun never sets, it only seems to set as it rises on the other half of 
the world, the moon appears to remind us of that as it casts the reflection of the 
suns light. the setting sun is like the descending of spiritual light into matter, our
physical being, like the moon, is a continuous reflection of that light, the sun never 
truly leaves us, as our spiritual light never truly leaves.
alchemy of time isn’t about turning lead into gold, it’s about the evolution of 
consciousness and the golden properties of the higher self.
what physical property on earth radiates like the sun?...uranium...and as this 
compound loses it's element of radiation, what happens?...it becomes lead...
in other words, as we continue to reach for the gold outside our physical nature,
we neglect the inner spiritual nature, eventually, possibly, become as lead also.
who we are inside, consciously, is what is reflected back to us, our attitude and 
personal growth becomes our perception and projection of the physical world.
our eye's are mirrors of the soul, projecting the spiritual light within', reflecting 
back the love shared. it all begins within', from original thought to intended action.
it's all about one basic principal, unconditional love, because love encompasses 
all; love conquers all. if our relationship with the divine will is strong, our outer 
relationship in accordance to all in nature is strong also. as Jesus Christ said,
" love thy neighbor as thy self "..........respect and understanding.


Details | Narrative | |

The Moon is a Thief

The moon is devouring my brothers/uncles/cousins/father/husband/sons

Last night my youngest son disappeared
We searched for him in the moonlight
(But I do not trust the moon)
She is a thief, fickle, many-faced liar
She deceives, manipulates
She is a crazy woman beckoning, then galloping away

Call her names
Better yet murder her
Gather her like cotton and push her
Down into a burlap bag
Grab her and shake her
Maybe the lost boys and men 
Will pop out of her like
marbles set free from a pouch

My son ran across her incandescent heart
Sweating, foaming at the mouth
I could not run fast enough after him
He was gone so fast
She is an enticer and a thief
A hard hearted moon who cares about no one
but herself
Blow the moon down
Then my men would return



Details | Narrative | |

Watching the Moon Grow

Night after night I sit to see the Moon shining over me.
Watching its shield unveil a bright night I can just sit to be.
For each night gone by a star shines so bright,
The more and more I sit here this night.
Deeper and deeper I think tonight, 
“What if” I had no sight?
Watching its gleam covering more than a lot,
I just sit to see it shine its big light.
For each hour gone by the moments are sought.
So more and more I sit here deeper in my thought.
My mind farther than my further with what this glow has brought,
“What if” the man in the Moon was never sought?
Watching its shadows lurk in the glow,
I sit to see if he will finally be caught.
For each moment gone by clear nights I’ll now know.
So more and more I sit here watching the Moon grow.
There’s just so much to see because it covers over me.
I sit here night after night because it’s just such a true sight.
I give it quite a bit of thought because “what if” all of this was not?
For the more that it comes to glow the more and more I can watch it grow.
There’s just so much to know because it covers me with its tremendous glow.
I sit her with thought after thought because I have more than your lot.
I sit here night after night because “what if” there was no true sight?
For the more I can just come to see the more and more I can just sit to be.



®Registered: 1998   Ann Rich


Details | Narrative | |

Searching

I walk and walk the many miles for you.
I give and give until I have nothing more.
I go on and on until I drop or fall,
But I’m searching deep because I search for it all.
Everyday I die more inside. 
Eaten alive by myself inside of my core,
Because I’m left alive with life that only I can sort through!
I just want to see the Sun rising up so full and so high.
I want to see the Sun set so huge with shadowing bits that glow.
So I’ll just believe in this strength that comes through you to me.
I search for you but why should I be the one who has to be one that believes?
Everyday I’m alone and it’s nowhere that I go,
Even when it’s my thoughts that I clearly identify!
I just want to see the Moon so round and so high beaming me into the glow of light.
I want to see the Moon peering through the lighter of my brightest day.
I keep seeing all of these cushioned visions of just you and me.
Searching for you gives me the sight of all that I am to see.
Everyday I beg and beg until I hurt that you will stay.
But I’m left alone with reality in sight.
I just want so much for you and me.
I even want the same air that you breathe.
I keep holding onto this strength that I am I feel I believe.
Searching for you I’m with all that I can ever be!
Everyday I’m straightened by what my eyes can see,
But now I’m alone with what’s left alive and what didn’t flee.
So I’ll just keep searching for you while I search for what will be the all of me.
 


Details | Narrative | |

Twilight

not long ago the earth was young
a dark shadow rose and blocked the sun
the people were lost in the chaos and hate
they lost everything to this dying fate
as luck grew low and people grew weak
they cried to the sky "its a miracle we seek"
this was the first time the moon did glow
yet not one soul would know
the moon was the miracle of which they cried
and without the shadow passes as the sun bound
by the moon, cycled the earth around and around

peace remained because day and night
slept peacefuly with dark and light
with their truth, protected us all
but with them soon came the fall
a fight broke out between anger and tears
night tried to stop it, but then came fears
fears and envy bred hatred anew
and chaos again spawned and grew
all was not lost at this time of pain
but hope was rare and almost found it vain
a balance must create a chaos
just as finding causes true loss
so if we could not have perfect peace
then how do we quell hatred the beast
if light and dark were truly the same
why was it chaos who was always to blame

finally the spiris decided to go their own ways
tired of wasting energy on the fighting days
their final solution was what saved us all
keep far from each other or suffer the call
if one met another we would all return
and this world that was protected would cease to turn

so now with fears, hate, envy, chaos, tears, dark, night, day, and night along
if these nine spirits had left one another and where seperated and gone
this is where twilight enters the truth
along with the others and joining them were; friend ship, joy, compasion, teamwork, turth
twilight you see was the one that brought with it the rest
twilight brought together everyone and their best
twilight truly showed them the way
and these are the words twilight spoke that day

as long as i remain, i reside of both
dark and light
of day and night
of chaos and compasion
of envy and teamwork
of truth and tears
of joy and fears
of friendship and hate

so believe in me and have no shame
it is only i that hold the burden of blame
i who am everything of you and yet
i who have nothing to lose or benifit
you must reason among one another
and find it in your selves to trust each other


Details | Narrative | |

Ripples in the Sea

When I see this Moon and gaze deep into the stars,
My mind wanders as I search for where you are.
Looking up, looking down, this enormous Sea is where I can now be found.
Standing alone at the Ocean’s edge and hearing its roar,
My heart pounds and aches for so much more.
Gazing deeper and deeper out into this vast blue Sea,
I can gather myself with this soul that was given to me.
Ripples in the Sea are all that my eyes can see.
One by one they collide with force to touch what was given to me.
Infinity with the depths of this Sea, 
This is what the Moonlit Ocean conveys to the truth inside of me.
Standing alone and afar from the depths of this Sea,
Ripple by ripple captures the every breath that I have inside of me.
Oh how they carry every single thought away from the insides of me!
Reflections of our Moon spread across this glimmering Sea.
Endless and endless ripples!
This vision I know I will forever see!
I hold my breath and carry a true smile, 
Searching for that last ripple to reach its hundredth mile.
Alone I stand at the edge of this Sea, 
The depth of this Ocean covers over me.
I wonder and wonder can I truly hold what was given to me?
So if ever in search for that which you know you believe,
Please remember that I left me standing with the ripples in the Sea.
One by one they collide crashing directly into me.
I stand with a force that was given just for this person that lives inside of me.
Come to me! Please touch what is on the inside of me!
Feel what has been given just for the love of me!
So if ever in doubt for that which you truly know you believe,
Look deeper and deeper out into this incredible huge Sea.
The ripples one by one know you will believe.
They touch, they feel, they hear what is left standing out by the Sea,
And that my friend is the life that God had already chosen for the soul that lives inside of me.
 


Details | Narrative | |

Eye of the Storm

Eye of the Storm, It was there on a warm, muggy night. That of a dark but black cloud that linger across the sky to which I thought it was going be just another stormy night. There to which was a night the moon could be seen at a larger view. It was there on that night the moon was no where in sight. As I rode across the interstate it was almost as if you would have to dodge the lightning as it struck thousand times over. From cloud to ground it strikes of bright but that of half mile wide streaks in the night. I ride for miles in search of that storm of the night, hoping to bypass the lightning of the skies that strikes. With no rain fallen on the wind shield, I push that 80,000 in flight. Praying that I miss the storm of the night, for many miles had rolled off when I had crossed that Texas and Okalahoma line. When all a sudden it had started to fall, that of the rain begin to fall. The winds blow that to which was like a snow drift blow but that of rain drops instead of snow. It was there I held on tight as I had felt my gut say I was in for a ride. It was there I hit the eye of the storm as I was the only one in the storm. For many trucks had park but I dare the dark and it was there to which I had experienced the three tornadoes in the dark. That of the eye of the storm as I was lifted up by the storm. Oh yes, blowing me to the side as I gripped the wheel real tight. As I had felt it pick the 80 thousand twice I just knew this wasn’t my night. I just knew I was through for the night as I had thought I would be bottom side up in the eye. That to which was confirm was a sight of tornadoes to touch in form. That of the scariest time I had ever experienced in my life and time. That by which was the grace of God to which kept me safe by far because I thought for sure that I would be slam somewhere afar. But instead I punched through the other side, only to find more trucks parking on the side. And finding out that there were three tornadoes that had form as the lightning in the center wasn’t that of form but that of the eye of the storm. That of bright light in the middle of the storm as it was there I could not have seen because of the storm. But there to which I experienced the eye of the storm. And that of God’s grace as he had saved me from that of a fierce storm. But there was not only just another storm but the eye of the storm. That of tornadoes in form..


Details | Narrative | |

The Burning Veil

My eyes were opened to a bright red burning veil.
Sun scorched and Moon dried,
It was fried!
But, I brought it some water in a crystal blue pale.
The more it burned higher went the scale,
God knows that I at least tried.
There was just nowhere to hide.
But, I wasn’t about to fail.
 
I put the veil in the water and made it wet.
I held it to the Sun and the Moon to air dry.
The veil melted and glowed where it was set.
It was sparkling and made me want to cry.
Perception had been weakened to what it really should be.
At least, that’s what the burning veil conveyed to the truth inside of me!
 


Details | Narrative | |

The Night of the Moon

It's the night of the moon
and though it's not in my sight.
The magic will be here soon.
The full moon takes the stage tonight.

I feel as low as the tide. 
The dark clouds set the tone.
Watching waves and sand collide.
I walk the beach all alone.

The clouds are fighting the sun.
They can't keep the bright light behind.
Sunset and beauty become one.
Doubt and hope crowd my mind.

Brilliant hues of orange,pink,and red
contrasting with clouds dark and gray
The sun paints a picture before bed
and then takes the painting away.

Splashing way out there in the sea.
Winking stars playfully laughing out loud.
I wonder,how this can be?
The night wont carry a cloud.

Where have all the clouds gone?
They've been plucked out of the sky.
The battle with the sun was been won.
I question not how, only why?

There's a bright glow in the west.
The curtain goes up for the show.
Dancing lights on the water are next.
Slowly rising the moon seems to grow.

Sometimes it's such a spiritual thing.
When nature reveals what it can truly do.
I can almost hear this moon sing.
So extravagant, it must be alive too.

My memory goes back to a time.
When the moon stole the show like this. 
I was with a girl that was so fine
and remembered that,that night we kissed.

But my memories are what had me down. 
I can't remember too many good.
There was the clouds at sundown
and suddenly I understood.

If I only kept good thoughts in my minds eye
and make all the bad ones just finish.
Maybe then my thoughts wont seem to magnify
what my memory can't seem to diminish.

Out with the bad thoughts in with the new. 
I'll fill my head with good memories only. 
But it seems that there are so few
that my thoughts might just get lonely.

That makes a smile come to my lips
and I wonder, did I just laugh out loud?
I watch enchanted as the moon slips
across the sky without a cloud.

My mood has changed I realize.
I knew I felt that pull.
Now I know hope never dies.
Hope lives in a moon this full.


Details | Narrative | |

If The Sky Were To Come Down

Stardust falls from broken skies
the moon hangs on a hinge
ready to collapse, ready to break
heaven bleeds from within
some say the sky is falling
clouds crash up above
thunder laces trying to be the seam
that holds it all together.
Stardust continues to fall
black chips of night sky drip down
behind the sky--
dark matter upon the ground
that gaping blackness
it is suffocating, suffocating
--i can reach up and grab the sky
but my hand meets nothing
clouds now crash into the ground.
Where will the angels sit now?
Will they come falling next?
The moon sinks lower, she is too heavy
they sky can no longer yield her up
no more thumb tack stars to keep her in place
they've become glass on the ground.
She sobs at her loss.
Stardust is still trickling from someplace up above
it is empty now, so empty
blank vast expanse
there is no such thing as a sky.
Can neither feel nor touch
the heavens fell to below
darkness settles to the human eyes
blind and groping outward nimble hands go
trying to find in the darkness
some piece of heaven left.
Stardust falls from broken skies
the moon hangs on a hinge
ready to collapse, ready to break
heaven bleeds from within.


Details | Narrative | |

O God, The Rat Has A Phobia!

The rat tiptoed to the house, picks up a thread
While the soft spoken black cat is, still, in bed
Sleepy, but, she is to battle it, to win, for today
To gain her breath, in solitude, for another day 
 
At first, she will fetch water, from a sacred well
Passing through the silent field of fears, of hell
While the sympathetic morning moon watches 
And giving her consoles, with uplifting touches

Of hopes, to warm her shaken, but noble heart
From the cold of early morn, that torn her apart  
Before the fading moon could bid her goodbye
Her tiny feet has swollen red, like a chicken fry

The rat sadly waves her bye to the fading moon
She kisses gladly the first crow, with her broom
To sweep the scattered butts, of Marlboro Light
Before favored kitten come, and give her a fight

She uses her magic matches to light the sticks
Delicately set at the center of a three big bricks
Eggs and bacon, with riz Cantonese to prepare
The boiling silvery pot, patiently, waits her care 

While the family feasts, the rat runs to the room
To fix the beds’ pleats, and then, she will zoom
To clean the ruin of wars, on the two slab tables
Before, she finds herself drown, in little bubbles

Her paled skin got burned, from the blazing sun 
While the soft spoken black cat enjoying the fun
Of watching, the afternoon entertainments show
That the rat never sees, for she has list to follow 

But, before the day ends, the poor rat was bitten
By the soft spoken black cat, left.....right up to ten 
That made her soul cries, under the mango tree
Hides her tears, in the dark, no one will ever see

Only when the soft spoken black cat’s gone away
Thus, the rat feels happy, for she has time to play
In a world, where no creatures exist, but, just her
She now lives in illusion, in her own, fake laughter 

The rat has beaten many times the first cockcrow
For the soft spoken black cat, not to live in sorrow
Till she left her, nothing, but full of fear and wraths
Forever haunt her, even if, she takes dozen baths

O God, the rat has a phobia, ‘cos of this black cat
Won’t you ever pity seeing her sleeping in a mat?
Or when somebody, with shot, scratches her tail?
For I cannot stand, seeing how human beings fail 

 



Details | Narrative | |

Vampire Moon (1)

On Bourbon Street in the vertical rain,
In the dominance of shadowed domain,
Where the swamp gas reeks of a distant death,
Faint and remote like a dying breath,
Steam rises up from the cobbled ground,
And dreams misplaced are seldom found.

The rats in the quarter bristle and dart,
Conveyors of plague from an evil heart,
And the legions of dead stay where fell,
Whilst the ringing out of the handcart bell
Sounds like a warning from far away,
A signature tune for judgement day.

As fog wreaths the streets like a living shroud,
A vampire moon breaks through the cloud,
And dogs with rib serrated skin
Howl at the sky and the wailing wind;
The lord of damnation stalks the night
Eyes of blood lust burning bright.

The cathouse sprawl lies silent, still,
The whiskey bars no longer fill,
The hulls of ships tied at the dock,
Creak and groan and gently rock,
And all the oil lamps cease to burn,
They gutter out at his return.

On Bourbon Street where walk the dead,
Eyes of blood lust burning red,
Comes something wicked, black and cold,
Which human sight should not behold,
With pallid face and razor-teeth
And vampire moon to stalk beneath.