Newton Ranaweera Poet Lyric

Man Mounts On Moon

The visit to Moon passes his Fall
     Teeth rust and jews shrink;
I bet he must cuddle his grandsons,
     Yet man oft’ runs to mount on Moon. 

Brings he soil; here, he broils,
     For he trusts his visit to Moon, 
Yet doctors claim with hands on brain
     That Moon is chaste, and visit’s in vain.

I peep at Moon whenever she blooms
     To note if, she shows any signs;
Her hair she twirls, on hips her hands
     And dancing and prancing she floats.

Her blinking cheeks, smile at teens,
     Twinkling kisses creep through beams;
I bet he must cuddle his grandsons,
     Yet man oft’ runs to mount on Moon. 


*A 1st Place* in the following contest (judged on Aug. 19, 2020)

Aug. 18, 2020
Strand Completely New (24) ,Any Form,Any Theme Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Brian Strand

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