"Yes, then I am filled with hate," she replied.
"You need to let it go. I know....I used to be filled with cold hatred.
Let it go. People can violate your body,
but it doesn't mean your soul is also violated -
Your body is only on loan anyway.
The soul is truly yours."
We moved even further away from the music and lights,
until we eventually found ourselves outside.
The sleet had stopped falling,
and amongst a crowd of pigeons sitting on a wire,
a Raven was perched on a buzzing halogen lamp.
Clouds broke apart, exposing a crescent moon hanging from a winking star
like a Christmas ornament, or an earring of night herself.
Not fixed, but dangling,
always moving and changing.
"Breathe in deeply. Focus in on the star,
pretend that you are casting your eyes up to the moon like a fishing line.
Begin reeling in your mind."
"Seems like a silly game to me."
"Please try it."
The Raven was watching us from its perch.
I breathed in and out deeply,
opening up my lungs and heart to the sky.
I turned to her and asked,
"Do you feel hate coming from the Raven perched over there?"
"No, not that I can tell."
"Remember. You can still become someone's Queen.
People can violate your body, but your soul can stay intact.
Even if you doubt it right now."
She pulled out some napkins from her purse,
handed them to me, and asked, "Will you write it down for me?"
-And so I did-
January 1st, 2012
a soul orbits
looking into space
an orange full
into the sea of tranquility
floating air labored
softly gasping for breath
wrath of the sun's light
bombards this earth
bursting solar colours
feelings flare beautifully
flashing the beginning
of a strong orbiting cycle
gently sewing together
embraces warm rays
with her soft fingers
weaving love deeply
Mesmerized by the light
shone from high above her beauty
casting shadows across the rippling bay
my heart beats violently for her
She gazes lovingly toward my gentle soul
standing all alone on the barren hillside
Wondering from where such beauty has emerged
I pinch myself for fear it is a dream
I stumble down the edge of the sea
In hopes that my beauty will stay
my hands are trembling
my eyes are wide open
The closer I get she is out of my sight
Have I lost this beauty?
I hear nothing but the rush of the tide
upon my soaking limbs
Out of the sea arises an image
dripping and glowing
surrounded by the reflection of the harvest moon
I dive toward her
Hoping to grasp her hand
She seems just out of reach
and starts to sink deep into the dark waters
I dive down to reach her
deeper and deeper
My breath has been lost
My vision I saw has been lost
No longer a reflection in the harvest moon.
Open the gate and step into the night's adventure
A golden full moon hovering in world of his own
The moonlight is magical
Night darkness under the moon dew glistens
Where the diamonds - the emeralds and
the jewels shine among all the golden
Golden light envelops water pearl luster
in a bed of cotton
As the waves swell
in the ocean
Carefully the wind plays
over the harp
Interaction with the moonlight
and the dream that is my own
A-L Andresen :)
Contest Name Poems about the moonlight
Sponsor SKAT A
I will sit with the moon for awhile
as the porch swing sways, a tune it keeps
softly whining, a humming smile, *
in soothing rhythm, while nature sleeps
A lonely owl, and then a lark,
calls out to me, from shadows dark
and starlight glistens, this peaceful night,
while the moon and I, together, listen *
How softly evening whispers twirl, and stir the branches in the breeze
The falling leaves around me curl,
to fall asleep beneath the trees
I'll make a wish, and close my eyes
and drink the splendid starlit night
I will sit with the moon for awhile....
keeping me company, with it's pale gold light....
By Carrie Richards
THE MAN WHO DREAMED HIS LIFE AWAY
When I was young the Moon was lifted
Hung with tacks and thread
On a mystical ceiling of dreams
She in her skyward place I in my bed
We lay so tightly wed we two sure lovers
That all my years flew round passed us by
While from out our eyes some angels gathered dust
At length proud man at work by day by night
His busy light in flood on tissue walls
Tried describe to she and me a smoking glory in steel
And a prophet raved – “Hear! Heed!
Faith is the one checkered King
On this fantasian board a playing.”
But I like my Moon bearing such pale light
Long dead a mere reflection of life
Was old and could not rise
The moon's bow beckons to me,
wind's frosty fingers
and I lay myself on the balcony's ledge
immersing, losing myself
under that inky blanket sea
the clouds rolling past, so fast,
skimming like waves veiling moonlight,
then letting it peek through
like a shy bride
beautiful, so beautiful
a gentle glow of soul
a silent lullaby that rocks me
If only for a moment
I keep my cradle of tears at bay,
as I let the moon do the weeping for me.
Debussy's Clair de Lune
now mingles in my mind like soft smoke
and tears come streaming...
Tired, so tired am I.
the moon rises
her candle-lit glow dances
casting shadows on walls
as she weaves in and out
of night's winded breath
fingering every inch of darkness
as she thrusts herself forward
in a climax of screams
then becomes silent
under freshly fallen dew
she tucks herself beneath covers
and awaits morning's blush
Moonlight .... watching over the dark
Let your thoughts wander in silence murmur
Capture in your hands a little moonlight veil
Quiet moments that break down
Raspy cry of a swan couple
Ears and eyes watching in the night magical mood
The sparkling silence is gone - eternal contrasts
Background sound from the stream that roars
The air is filled with pure truth - the night turns into a new day
A-L Andresen :)
Locking the door is useless,
for he has a key...
Will that sliver of light
become a wider slice tonight,
Bed sheet covers are but flimsy barriers,
easily thrown off
Hard working hands
that roam where they should not
Tuck you to bed,
tell you a fairy tale before you sleep,
kiss you good night.
They all hold different meanings,
they always do.
The moon is a silent witness,
peeking through the windows,
where shadows refuse to dance...
Innocent eyes of a doll
“Shhh,” he says
“This is love.”
But the pounding heart,
the screaming mind
This isn’t love.
It never was.
The moon can only scream in silence
The sun crashes in,
dissolving the darkness
but it never matters,
for the nightmare continues...
She’s there at the stove, cooking
eggs sunny-side up
He reads the newspaper
with a smile
Yet tears start to pool
as a timid voice says,
Why don’t you believe me?
The Boogie Man is real.”
September 16, 2011