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Moon Prose Poetry Poems | Prose Poetry Poems About Moon

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

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Details | Prose Poetry |

ben reine ny hoie

Supermoon picture: Manila, Philippines, on March 19, 2011 (biggest full moon of the year) The wind laughs softly The full moon with the stars In the sky, As I lie near the fountain Gazing at the Exquisite beauty Of the nature. It's the charm of the moon Opens so many thoughts And dreams. The moon Looks like a beautiful Ballerina Dancing with the troop of The professional stars. Twisting carelessly with the Elegance of a swan Through the lilac beauty Of the spring time. The sky seems a bandanna. A dewy freshness Fills my heart and soul. How beautiful is the night, I captivated, enchanted. Oh! Gealach, ben reine ny hoie. _________________________ "Gealach" means......Brightness, "ben reine ny hoie" means.....Queen of the night. The language of the Isle of Man. _________________________ The moon and the moon poetry in general seems to dispel the human centredness that we all suffer from. Thank you for reading. Chitta.


Details | Prose Poetry |

"Fearing The End With Broken Trusts"

I have died to see my life grow from this dark holes of endless torture, nothing is here to 
stay, I do not want the nights to fall upon dead eyes, sober the ecstasy the devil put on your lips, behold the end with embraced cold, this night will kill us all, fear the dead for been the ones to judge tonight, the clouds walk straight to grave, the moon shines bright in red, the sun dances under endless fire, we the child's have failed to acknowledge wrong, we have fought the war by ourselves, we don't feel the sun warm our face at morning shine by our behaviors, we don’t die for free, either vane, fear this hell to rise upon your shoulders, I fear the end with shattered dreams of desperation, cant scream either punch, walls are too strong, sweat blinds my eyes, sweat cleans my filthy soul, take down the moon tonight dear, I shall pay you with my blood, devils stealing souls, we cant sleep to lose it all, loosing my eyes to see beyond the horizon burning, the smoke makes the day die fast, I don’t want to live if all I feel is pain, either do many, my name is not of importance, but the feeling is the one to make the night, dancing upon the chest of the earth, tonight we shine with the moon dressed in red, tomorrow we rule the sky, for yesterday we ruled the grounds, underworlds are dying to see me arrive, I am welcome to this dinner, deals are broken tonight, we have sold what we don’t have to give the better plan, oh green threes, they still live inside a cruel dead state end, bring me the horizon, bring me the hells, that I know this will decay, that I know this will perish, oh my heart will stop the night of the red dance... Prayers are heard yester night, the song is loud, making the clouds tremble and dance, darken eyes, you see the sky full of darken eyes, you lay at night to line the clouds and you make pitiful devils out of the big galaxy above you, this is not the end, I am the man who writes down your prayers, who writes down each tear numbered by deceitful plague, bring my eyes to see the skies, please break me free from this night, from this cell, cold and chained, far away, we keep on trying, breaking the trust of our friends, no one will save us now, is not now, I don't need the time, I am dead to you and I refuse to be your slave, engrave my eyes in this decayed kingdom of fallen messiah’s, please give me time to fear your wrath, please give me the signs of victory, I want and need to know how much you feel for me, I feed you with my blood, now repay


Details | Prose Poetry |

A journey to the Promise Land (Getting Understanding) pt.1

I've found through the intrepid individuality of reality of life's lesson and Under-
standing the maker of the moon and star's. That the creator, the maker of the
tree's in the parks, mankind and all-minds, all maintaining of drama and percep-
tion. A journey of a thousand directions of heartless rejection's will never mater
alize had the first step never comprimise!  Comprimising to reinvent the word of
the maker of the moon and star's.
   O'How I wonder were you are. "Twinkle-twinkle star so high could tonight just
for me?" would you, could you shine so bright that other's could see just for me,
the maker of the wind and the sea. "A Journey to the Promise Land, fill to the manna,
fill to the brim to Understand".  That on this journey the maker of tall, short, skinny or
blind, the maker that cause rain to erase the individuality of reality. The nature of sin      
flow's through the land of all grain in the sand. (Do you Understand) The maker of the left
hand and the right, just for me(?) would you, could you promise me that there's sim-
plicity that my wild oats shall see. Maker of the moon and star's, "way back-way back
when you first told Moses". The voices of bondage shall you lead, unto a Promise Land
of Milk & Honey flowing with reality, flowing not for the eye's to see, but to talk about
the neccessity of history. Way back when. O"How you prove beyond all degree, the
truth of who is powerful, who is the maker of the wind & sea. "Get Understanding".
(The maker of knowledge and the air we breeze).


Details | Prose Poetry |

Changing Seasons

Changing Seasons

In a burst of color and animal choruses 
Sovereign sun heralds in a golden morning –
The air was delicate with the perfume of cherry blossom 
Blown in from the hem of pink rows that lined the 
driveway on Grandpa’s farm 

I looked across at hay stacked verdant hills that were
Tossed with yellow daffodils, purple crocus and white snowdrops 
They danced to the baton of the breeze and the 
Hidden orchestra of lilting bird song of that fragrant spring morn

Grandma sang to me her songs of childhood 
As we walked arm in arm amongst beds of fragrant roses 
and budding fruit trees that whispered promises of full baskets  
that would soon be heavy laden with the Summer fruits, preserves, 
Pies and jam of a bountiful harvest, a few months from now

Summer came rich with its harvest, merry hearts
and long hazy, lazy summer days and nights scented 
with wisteria, frogs and cicada, chirping and croaking 
their melodious summer anthem of  ‘All is well with the world’ 
as we toasted to our full and wonderful life

Autumn brought in a more somber note and amber tones
though warm and restful, they soon told me - life is changing again
time quickly moves on - it prepared me for the winter and 
the chill mirrored in the face of the full moon as it lit a silvery path
to my next season’s change

The cherry trees glowed white against the dark night sky like iridescent bones along 
the snow covered driveway - they waved their bony fingers goodbye 
as I crunched solemnly down the long white corridor with slow steps and a  heavy heart that was beating to the mournful dirge of  hoot owls and creaking limbs – I blinked back tears under that star kissed sky and full moon that lit my path 
The moon reminded me- each season has its bounty that I can treasure -I held those memories close to my well seasoned but thankful heart.

Brenda V Northeast


Details | Prose Poetry |

The Wolf Within Me

As I look up at the sky I see the moon is high

I feel the wolf deep inside he is trying to come alive

As the pain begins to start It feels as through I am being ripped apart

My joints start to bend and break 

Soon the wolf will be fully awake.....



Details | Prose Poetry |

Dreamer

Close your eyes for awhile my friend, I heard there lies a moon far behind the black sky, I heard lovers were dancing beneath, can you hear them singing? I can feel their tipsy steps making rhymes on floor, and smell of perfumes filling the air, I heard a sun rises to brighten up their world, and birds do sing them charming melodies at morning, they say they have roses in colors and beautiful trees in the streets, and have they told you about the sea yet? They say it smells so wonderful and the delicate air of seas caresses their cheeks with soft wet breezes, oh my friend, what have we seen in the dark but the fragile ghosts that we are!

“Hush” whispered to me, “I lighted up a moon inside my heart and I smell lilies and jasmine in my nose, my dreams play tunes my heart dance on, they speak to me all night and there I see a starry night floats above, I feel the warmth of a sun in my soul as it hugs tight, whispering to me hymns of love and joy, lightening candles for hopes which had accompanied me amongst the dark, why have you closed your eyes my friend? Look through the colorful roses I painted for you with eyes wide open, let the lights off so you would see clearer, let the lights off so you can brighten up the world that hides with you, for my friend, what have we seen in the dark but the free spirits that we have become!


* If you enjoyed this piece, follow the link and share your thoughts
http://echoes19.wordpress.com/2013/01/22/dreamer-2/


Details | Prose Poetry |

The moon, a golden doubloon buried in the midnight sky

The moon, a golden doubloon buried in the midnight sky, amongst a billion diamond 
speckles, shimmers in the warm summer night’s air, as it slowly climbs to its zenith. The 
lake reflects the scene back a thousands times on a thousand different ripples as oars 
silently part the dark waters leaving star trails in their wake. In the small boat a girl lies 
on the bottom, her long dark tresses hidden beneath a dark woolen cloak. Her sparkling 
green eyes squeezed closed tight. Her full lips hold no emotion in them only lay still, 
betraying nothing. Her delicate hands clasped behind her back bound there by a coarse 
rope which winds its way around her small soft breasts and makes its way down to her 
bare tender feet, trussing her up as neatly as a pig on its way to market. Yet there is no 
fear in her eyes. No tears running down her smooth pale cheeks. No breath quickening in 
her chest. Yet when she opens her bright green eyes, out emits what can only be called 
faith and hope, like sunbeams through holes in the clouds, as if she knows someone is 
waiting for her just on the other side of this moment, waiting to rescue her from a peril 
she knows not what. Yet no one does. She is now laying on a cold gray beach. The girl 
turns away. Not caring about the pain that tears through her hands and feet. Tears run 
down her cheeks in torrents. Her body convulses silently. And there in the first of the 
morning light, lying on the pale white sand, she fills utterly alone for the first time in her 
life. And as the waves crash on the shore, the suns rays burst forth filling the world, she 
lets herself go. Her hair is plastered to her face, she doesn’t notice. Someone has undone 
her bound legs. She didn’t even feel it. Slowly a strong calloused hand pulls her to her 
feet. She lets it. Empty now she lets them gently push her along a narrow trail that leads  
farther away from the place that use to be her home. She sags to the ground. Let them 
kill her. She would welcome it. She would beg for it if she could only find her voice, but 
she lost that when she lost her heart. Her heart, somewhere back on the sands, at the 
edge of the lake. Somewhere where the waves are crashing down on top of it, crushing it, 
slowly dragging it out to a dark watery grave, where it wont have to bare the light of day 
again, where it can dwell in the darkness that it so desperately wants to consume it.


Details | Prose Poetry |

It's Great To Be Alive!

Tamera liked to run in the cold, on a whim she stopped by Woolworth and bought a package 
of hot tamale candies to eat after her run.  She loved having a reward for everything.  
Wearing her golden sweatpants Tamera decided to run laps, which she loved to do on the 
track alone late at night as the moon tipped his head and winked at her. She started this 
shortly after her divorce.   It was cathartic for her to watch her warm breath rise in the cold 
air.  Running in the winter made her feel alive to be so cold, to run and beat the elements. 
She loved the feel of the wind in her hair as she ran.

She didn’t notice the man that joined her, until he passed her.  She hadn’t seen him before.  
He had a Florida Gators jersey, orange sweat pants and a blue ski hat on. She liked his 
strides, they seemed fluid.  She had only been running a few years herself.  It was a hobby 
that she enjoyed.  Having company on the track felt good, normally she had the track all to 
herself.  She usually left after running three miles.  Tonight she felt like running more laps 
than usual.  She kept running.  Her new friend kept running too. Tamera was always 
competitive. Who knew maybe she could outrun him.

She found her rhythm and felt the adrenaline rush of the endorphins finally kick in. That's 
what she like about jogging, the endorphines. It felt freaking out of this world!  
Her heart was beating fast, her breathing was steady.  Her strides were growing wider and 
longer.  It felt so good to Tamera to be alive and one with the track.  She almost felt like 
she was flying over the Grand Canyon.

She kept running and running, until she could hardly feel her legs.  They felt numb, she heard 
the crowd as they cheered for her.  She saw every handsome man that she had ever known 
standing on the sidelines naked as they were cheering for her.  She smiled at them as she 
passed them by like a blur, for she was so fast.  She imagined her ex-husband lying on the 
ground rolling around in sheer pain as she ran all over him to win the race.  She saw herself 
jumping over the highest hurdles with the grace of an agile deer.  She was in her runner’s 
paradise. 

After a while, she noticed she had the track all to herself once again and her handsome 
gentleman, Mr. Moon had also moved along.  When she checked her mileage counter, Tamera 
had run eleven miles.  It was a great run, the best she had ever had. It was a great night to 
be alive!


Details | Prose Poetry |

I Shall Wait For You My Beloved

I shall wait for you to come my beloved
For you are my white star of twilight
The moon in the sky’s far end

I shall rise up with thee
Lie down with thee
For in my dreams thou art always with me

Oh Great Spirit
When our time has come
Join us together as one in the wilderness of your sacred home
When you look upon us give us your peace and refreshing sleep

For you and I my beloved, are two halves joined together
Each others distant shore
The left and right wings of the bird
Two halves of a seashell

We are apart, yet connected by a greater love
I shall wait for you my love 

The sun and moon bless the union of our spirits
Designed by our Creator for life’s endless journey
Joined like a tree to earth, a cloud in the sky
You are a part of me, as I am of you
Bonded by the Great White Spirit

You are my love, my heart’s best  friend
Our love will never cease, never end
I know it is thou who moves within my heart
Now and forever my beloved - I shall wait for you to come
Ayor’ Anosh’ ni’ my love
_______________________________________________________________________

"Ayor’ Anosh’ ni’ means I love you in Navajo"


Details | Prose Poetry |

The Moon Walker

A great man with a powerful voice – died mute-

Sold over a quarter of a million albums – died with records of debts-

Performed before millions and made them all happy- never had the chance to be happy himself-

Crown with dignity and prestige – buried with clay and dust. 


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