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Moon Spring Poems | Spring Poems About Moon

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

Details | Rhyme |

Season's Round

Summer sunshine in her hair
The Autumn moon in her eyes
Winter’s promise buried there
Hints of Spring therein lies

The Autumn moon in her eyes
Winter’s snow upon her skin
The seeds of Spring wait to rise
To field the Summer once again

Winter’s snow upon her skin
Spring flowers to grace her face
Summer’s vow to come again
Until Autumn takes its place

Spring flowers to grace her face
Summer’s sunshine in her hair
Autumn hints leave bare a trace
That Winter’s cold will follow there


Details | Couplet |

A RED MOON

Love was as hot as a red moon.
Passion was on fire and was soothed.

A total lunar eclipse occurred on April 15.
The moon was coopery red.

The warmth of her blood was astrologically aligned.
Mother Earth was with her Sun God.

She stood majestically in his eyes.
The core of his being was a deep arousal of desire.

Oblivion Dark Sunshine
Spiritual Poetess

Sought the Red Moon via telescope,
a ritualized ceremony.
________________________/
Sponsor:	Dave Wood
Contest Name: 	RED MOON 
04/14/2014


Details | Lyric |

In Bloom

Written July 29, 2013


The wind blows the rainbows down
Turns your frown upside down
Then spins it back around

The sun hides the moon
Underneath its coat in bloom
The flowers came late this June

The rain in a teardrop
Falls like dew from a leaf
When she looks at me

See that look upon her face
Used to take her to the stars
Now she's headed back from Mars

Now that Venus loves her more
Wouldn't throw her to the floor
Like before


Details | Verse |

The Eves of May

Maelstrom, O thou devil 
Slither past last March then unto April
Into the eves and ides of May 

Thou cannot hide, but thou wilt try
To disguise thy age old blackness
Forsake what once were brighter skies
Stranglehold; sane extraction

And the spills of night
A new tone deafness
Burning oil; sentiment molasses 
Bringing storms that cloud minds human and fragile 

Spheres of moonlit halos
Become, no more than serpent spies
Peeking through faultlines of life
Dancing about to the madness limbo

One lost soul...
Shipwrecks against a sea
And there too does the twist of tango
Eyes of the deep; tentacles, touching me

Elsewhere, the raven flies repetition
Into glass windows
Blood stains upon a faceless mask
Drowns out the cries and the conscience

Of feathers blacker that lie strewn
Are the questions I have asked 
And the answers I cannot have

Let slip feigned breath of man beneath
A gargle from the cold tunnel brine
What's left surrenders alter to its evil
And nothing is, to evermore survive

And the eves and ides of May 
Are Saran gas upon a mass of land
Men of desparation hunger 
Eating flesh of man much meeker

And thou wilst not again
Glimpse thy rival sun
Nor when it comes, goes 
Or finality, when it finds its done

Inspired by the madness of Poe
That which is locked within us all


Details | Sonnet |

Oxford Blues


Atop the seas where mists descend and waves high meet
the flare of stars, that draw details where verses hang
and send enounced spring's sightly messages to greet
the Oxford skies of notte blue and eyes unsung,

splendiferous the ocean moons illuminate
above the passages of ships that mettlesome
advance beyond the skylines and scopes equate
multi-dimensional expand with diesels' thrum.

The nautilus become gray shades - in haze to wave
and colorful their messages on winds shall die
it is their voice in nimbus gray to fade and crave
the dancing layers of cold rains and winds' war cry.

Above the fields and seaward trips of compassed routes
on skyway paths the thoughts ascend and Oxford blues. .

© 05-10-2013, G. V., All Rights Reserved
(A hexameter sonnet)


Details | Bio |

My Favorite Number

I was born on July 20, 1958.

Being one of seven children and having a mid-summer birthday, even as a young boy, it was 
not uncommon for my birthdays to come and go without much fanfare.

In the winter of my Fifth Grade year at school, we had an assignment to write a short-story.  
I was already in love with writing way back then.  My short story was on a topic that was 
very much in the news at that time and a very interesting and exciting theme for a young 
boy.  I wrote a short story about me being the youngest astronaut in the space program and 
being selected to be the first astronaut to walk on the moon.  I was aware at the time, that 
the US and USSR were in a Cold War race to be the first country to achieve that lofty goal 
and I knew it was bound to happen soon.  To make my story even more special, I wrote that 
this wonderful event would take place over the coming summer, on my birthday!

Well, lo and behold, as the winter turned to spring and spring turned into summer the Apollo 
11 space mission launched from Cape Canaveral carrying three astronauts, two of whom 
were targeted to walk on the moon.

As my 11th birthday approached, without any notice from anyone else, I watched in awe as 
the Apollo 11 made its way to the moon.  On July 20th, 1969, the lunar landing module, 
Eagle, set down on the moon!  I remember expectantly waiting for the astronauts to be given 
permission to exit the Eagle and step foot on the moon’s surface as the hours of my birthday 
ticked down.  

It was about 10:00 pm eastern time when my parents finally sent us all to bed on the news 
that Mission Control made the decision to wait until the next day to send Neil Armstrong out 
of the lunar module.  With tears in my eyes, I went to bed thinking that I missed my chance 
to share my birthday with history and to have had my short story prognostication come true.

At a few minutes before 11:00 my parents woke all of us up to come watch as Neil 
Armstrong could wait no longer and talked Mission Control into letting him walk on the moon 
without further delay.

So, at about 11:00 pm, on my 11th birthday, the men from Apollo 11 walked on the moon for 
the first time in history.  One small step for man and one giant link to history for one small 
boy in Charleston, West Virginia.

And, that is when 11 became my favorite number.


Details | Haiku |

Robin's fair light

as new life flowers                                                                                                   equal illumination                                                                                                 meager changing clothes                                                                    *           
** the sun the moon draws warming hearts and minds amply a new leaf to turn


Details | Free verse |

The Moon

One spring night,
Just for fun,
I rode the crescent moon.  
Then left her below to gaze on me,
As I soared miles high
In the still starlit laughing
Spring air!

4/2013


Details | Free verse |

Soft Spring Evening

as the moonlight flushes
the white plum-tree blossoms
down the night-black bark arms
like snowflakes softly landing
on the calloused ground
without a sound
a mirror image of a petaled sky
above
filled with
star blossoms and fragrance
deep and high
whirling around the moon
cold and distant
aloof
yet pouring out
its cold love like
a symphony of
softest flute
and bassoon
ah, the moon, the moon
casting shadows black and deep
as the blossoms go to sleep