The Moon
The moon I was told is my uncle,
from days when I was in the cradle,
they showed me the moon to make me eat,
other distractions like birds that tweet.
So grew up to believe moon was male,
one day brighter another day pale,
I even drew moustache on his face,
and manly spectacles on his gaze.
Many stories told under his rays,
cuddling to granny in good old days,
how he would watch over us every night,
except nights when he was out of sight!
When in love we looked up to the Moon,
his waxing, waning kept us in tune,
he lit our hearts with romantic thoughts,
we loved his smile, mysterious spots.
Poets many have changed Moon’s sex at will,
to suit situations and their quill,
from Arabs to Greeks he, she or it,
my Uncle moon doesn’t care a bit!
He continues to glow, reflect Sun,
and he takes a bow when its all done,
generations have been and perished,
Moon will always be loved and cherished!
To confirm my beliefs, asked my friend,
clever school teacher from the street end,
He said I was right, to prove it soon,
he showed me picture of Ban ki-Moon!
Premier contest winner (6)
Written 6/Aug/2021
is the Moon male or female or both poetry contest
Chantelle Anne Cooke sponsored
9 syllables each line!
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
