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Moon Narrative Poems | Narrative Poems About Moon

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

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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*


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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


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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


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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


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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?


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