Jab Meri Bechaini Mit Jayegi
Jab Mere Dilko Sukoon Mil Jayega
Yeh Khaalipan Mit Jayega
Do Pal Ki Chandni Ke Liye
Aj Bhi Zinda Hoon Main
Meri Khaamoshi Ke Ageh Aasmaan Bhi Khatam Ho Jayega
Kehne Ke Liye Toh Roz Marta Hoon Main
Thoda Aur Marne Ke Liye
Yeh Deewana Kal Phir Ayega
Copyright © shadab shaikh | Year Posted 2013
As if deep in thought
The spring moon rises
Between flowering ancient trees.
Copyright © Uwe Stroh | Year Posted 2014
This is as simple as it gets
The truth displayed on blank pages
Lies on the written ones
For you, for me- the wages
From fighting this war are meager
And it seems that we are eager
To leave this hole we are in.
Can we write a new story?
Nothing is happening but nothing
Can prevent this unbecoming glory.
Winning was never an option we
Had considered in the first place.
But to actually have victory
Would be kind of the one we call fate.
This is as complicated as it gets
Food turns to drink in moonlight
But still we cross our fingers and
Hope that a beam could be our spotlight.
Copyright © Juli- Michelle | Year Posted 2013
River, Moon, Giants
Old wood, river banks
Saturated with moon, spills
Trees grow giant, shade
Created on 8/27/14 for One Solo Epic Haiku – River Walk contest
Copyright © Earl Schumacker | Year Posted 2014
By Curtis Johnson
It seemed so clear and plain to me that those urges for repetitive behaviors and tendencies were hard to tame.
It seemed that there simply was no recourse from a life locked in “drive” on a one way street that always ended up the same.
Like a loaded locomotive headed across the plains, providing no great views of mountains or rivers; there too was a longing inside of me to stop and get off this fast train.
As our lives approach the setting of the sun, and the evening star appears, it seems appropriate to take a little more time to contemplate, meditate, and rearrange.
I thinks perhaps it’s true that there is sometimes less to be gained from vain repetition; and sometimes, I think that second opinions are required to relieve more pain.
Copyright © curtis johnson | Year Posted 2015
the fields looking as
covered with snow in the night
thinking of all and nothing
but the moonlit fields
my zen books,
peter pauper press editions,
yellow with age now
showing my steadfast love
for no-mind even now
Copyright © Thomas Martin | Year Posted 2015
COME, COME FLY ME TO MARS
Come, come, my guiding light,
Fly me to the skies in the highest above,
To be the heavenly guest, amongst the angels,
To the hospitable, intriguing and luring destination,
Amongst the stars of heaven and their constellations!
When I ride on the wings of dusk,
Our dreams reflect through the bright moonlight.
The rising of Aries from the twilight sea,
And the setting age of Libra in the distant horizon,
Bring hopeful tides and dreams that forever rule over our destiny!
When I ski on the broad flat rings of Saturn,
I see the yellow sun rise in your sweet blue eyes.
When I settle on the far side of the roars of rough seas of Venus,
And the life giving spirit grows faint within me in Jupiter,
You illuminate me with energy and recharge my batteries!
As I journey endlessly and ascend through spacecraft,
East of the stimulating Sun and west of the arousing Moon,
To the endless new sound of the Ram’s horn,
Surely, the sun will not smite me by the day,
Nor the moon at night, with you beside me!
Come; come fly me to Mars, to our heavenly destination,
To the red planet teeming with intricate canals,
To waterways, rivers and silver lakes so intelligently designed,
To the planetary satellites, so intriguing and amusing,
Whose variety and colour continue to invoke awe and wonder!
When Mars is aligned to the Sun, Mercury, and Venus,
Saturn, Earth, and Pluto are on one straight line,
Jupiter entering Leo, Moon squatting in Capricorn,
Uranus awakening and Neptune unifying us,
Surely, love and peace will engulf us for all eternity!
Oh, my guiding light, please take my hand and show me around!
Let me see what Summers and Autumns are like in Mars,
And when we awake to the seasons of singing,
Flowers blossoming and early fruits forming,
With sweet smelling scents to adore,
Surely, this is the dawning age of our Spring in Mars
Copyright © SIMON M MATLOU | Year Posted 2012
When Moon blocks the Sun
The sea in the bay is restless slapping over
the pier, salt spray on the dog, she was
not amused and sought shelter behind the car.
She had not been herself for days
the moon blocking the sun I didn’t know it
Perhaps a residue of a disaster that happened
years ago and can easily happen again,
a meteor hitting the earth and not a dignified
end of humanities and their loyal slaves, dogs
the donkey and horses.
A gust of winds also called a squall made me
sense the dog’s fear. We drove home I lit the fire,
a dog doesn’t like changes. The peril over,
she woke me up ate seven needed a pee and all
was well with the world.
Copyright © jan oskar hansen | Year Posted 2015
Where are gone the crested larks and thrushes
Where are sparkling pebbles on your seashore
Where are the cherries from your cute crushes
That would break out as we opened the door
Nonetheless the orange glow in valley
And the two wings spread only a little
Is enticing even now to rally
All my bohemian birds to sprinkle
With fondness the downpour from my cuddle
Now that you are again in the twilight
Holding my clouds with your smiley bubble
The foaming river now rippling quiet
Thank you for the unexpected moonrise
We must take our dark glasses off our eyes
Copyright © Probir Gupta | Year Posted 2016
In the bread house, I see, and hear a family of four break bread together. The knee-high son, sits under the mother's armpit, and dad sits across from her. The baby sits in a high chair, seemingly the only one aware that he's the head of the table. He pounds his fist, when the morsels don't come fast enough from his mom's fingers, to his mouth. The knee-high son is so happy, that he sings completely indiscernible lyrics of a song he either learned in daycare, or from some bizarre, unidentifiable species on television. The dad occasionally helps calm the baby down: occasionally. The mom is content. She eats. She consoles. She feeds. She eats. She is their moon; she keeps them on a fixed orbit.
Copyright © Mark Morris | Year Posted 2015
“THE MOON WILL SEE YOU NOW”
listen to the moon,
the one’s who hold
onto what’s left of
they all see light
listen to the moon.
I’ve been parentless,
I’ve been homeless,
I’ve been drunk,
I’ve had the whores,
I am the broken.
what’s left of my soul
keeps me from losing it.
listen to the moon.
as you drive with your
hand to the wind,
you can feel it but
you can’t grab it.
that’s what life is.
listen to the moon.
life is your cell phone
waiting to charge,
life is the flat tire
on your road trip,
life is the final notice
on a bill you can’t pay.
listen to the moon.
life was sleeping behind
a taco shop,
life was calling collect
just to be denied,
life was the moment
you decided to keep
her from death.
when she kills you
do you hear the clock?
it laughs with life.
listen to the moon…
it’s listening to you.
By: Chicano Eddie
Copyright © CHICANO EDDIE | Year Posted 2016
Moon and stars
I am his hated love child
On this bitter earth
Copyright © Pheko Motaung | Year Posted 2016
Long Term Solution
It has come to my attention that the moon is capable growing green
bananas, goats and sheep but not cattle as they emit too much gas
into the planet`s thin surface can live there.
if we send refugees there as pioneers they are forbidden to smoke
tobacco although, to the great surprise to the first moon lander found
an empty packet of Camel which of course was planted there by young
Putin to blame the USA. Also should the Settlers who make life difficult for
the Palestinians should run out of land to a new Jerusalem can be built
in one of the moon`s craters.
Europe has like Pontus Pilatus washed her delicate hands of the refuge
problem let us construct spaceships that must be paid for by migrants,
but beware they can one day switch off the light.
Copyright © jan oskar hansen | Year Posted 2016
POEMS 12 UNDER THE MOON LIHTING
UNDER THE MOON LIHTING YOUR IS LIKE THE SHINNING OF THE STARS.
UNDER THE MOON LIHTING IS PEACEFUL & BEAUTIFUL.
UNDER THE MOON LIHTING IS THE JOY OF HAPPINESS WITH YOU IN MY ARMS.
UNDER THE MOON LIHTING IS STRONG & PASSIONATE.
UNDER THE MOON LIHTING IS THE LIGHT OF THE DAY ON YOU.
MR. PROFESSOR. JERRY”BIG PAPA” WELLS
Copyright © Jerry Wells | Year Posted 2016
Depicting the Moon’s Existence
“Cissy, look… the moon is fadey.”
I wish not to correct her grammar…
for it be naive on the tip of her tongue;
“Yes sweet child, she be fading… by the touch
and the gaze you give her dear.”
she fades behind the fog that looms above the night’s
her kindled glow… smoldering in the hearts
of passers by,
We wade in her meadow of moonbeam's…
she sprout’s crystal’s…
milky, and opaque.
“So yes dear, the moon is “fadey” but only
by the light of your own eye’s and the attention you give her…
forever she will fade.”
“she look’s like the Cheshire Cat’s grin, Cissy…” she say’s in
a longing and nostalgic tone.
I guess you could say… the moon beam’s a
but then again I dare not say… to my sweet sister,
that rabbit’s and dormice do not
share a cup of tea...
nor do they pass sweet, glinting sugar cube’s.
sadly the moon.. does not have Alice
or her mad companion, nibbling on crumpet’s
and strawberry tarts.
“Yes...sweet child, you could say
that the moon’s dark faded
apparition, is grinning with a tad of
strawberry jam upon her dimple.”
The moon is a wonderland indeed.
many depict her mystic facade
with many ethereal words- and verses;
or simply put… a child’s unformed sentence
of, “the moon is fadey.”
be a fitting description of the moon and her mesmerizing
Copyright © Madison Demetros | Year Posted 2016
The aging artist has a trait,
those short on sight can’t bear
All normal signs of waning,
a crown now his to wear
Wrinkles and sparse graying hair,
still negative to some
But when they light upon a Sage,
—the moon bows to the sun
(Grantham New Hampshire: February, 2017)
Copyright © Kurt Philip Behm | Year Posted 2017