The amber light, through window glass
like time itself, shines much the same
Some things change, but some remain
Tonight's full moon still knows her name
Her silken hair, her porcelain neck
a strand of pearls, a diamond clasp
I find them now, within my grasp
They bask within the timeless past
With envy now, the night is awed
Covetously, it fondles rows
of tiny orbs, which, one by one
are miracles, with moons, within
I hold the pearls within my palm
and think of old Glenn Miller songs
and mother dancing long ago
She wore them like another skin
back, long before my life began
A grain of sand, then pearls become
A part of her, .... a part of me
So fragile, weak the thread is bare
as if the sun might gaze too long
a tarried glaze, the string would fray
and pearls would fall and roll away
Perhaps such things meant to be
Each miracle, has just a while
Glenn Miller songs have come and gone
I'll put away the pearls for now
so moon can own the night again
A 1st in PD's Contest: 101 In A Row ...Contest Finalized 7/23/16....
Resubmitted For Laura Loo's Contest: Any First Place Poem
To hear Glenn Miller's rendition of "String of Pearls" click on the following youtube site:...
Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2013
The moon so bold seems cold
with a halo of midnight glow
I sit mesmerized as the night grows old.
I bleed still, even after all these years
and I wait again through the night
aching in the depths of my soul
that no other seems to know
the Loneliness that has become my companion.
In the darkness we wait and confide in the other
our deepest fears as memories fade
in and out each season of change
the nostalgia tempers the wars of pain
this tempestuous foe of ours
wails at the gates of midnight
howling the warble of humanities last grace.
How the comfort of minds and hearts
turn from light to deep dark in the face
of eternities long time clock...
I ache with wanting, with need and passion
it is a lie that time heals and wounds scar
each night is fresh like the first
when I faced realities shock.
Who can wait with me?
Who can hold this hound at bay?
Who can cherish what little love left in me
and make the broken whole?
I ache to be loved again as the love that burns
and waits inside of me.
Who can comfort this emptiness and fill the void
that so many leavings have left?
Cherish and love to honor and protect
but who can slay these demons that hold my heart in wrath?
Who will walk the sulfur clouds of hell to save my mind
and deliver my world to the gates of heaven
with life, not death bridging the distance of pain?
I sit and wait at the floor of the moon each night
waiting for that bridge to carry me yonder,
this moon who hangs heavy and ripe with the yearning of my soul
with clouds aglow as if I could sweep them across a canvas
with the brush held in your hand
I rage at her as I wait, but still I wait and weep
as Loneliness and I keep each others company
wishing the clouds of that great moon could truly create
a way to find the lost, a pathway to home, lit by the legacy our love.
Copyright © tara jennings | Year Posted 2013
Sailing the sky-seas,
Ship of light; ship of madness;
Mother moon beguiles.
Copyright © M. L. Kiser | Year Posted 2015
Under the mystical moon she glows.
All obscure answers she knows.
From her heart, love composes.
Copyright © Chantelle Anne Cooke | Year Posted 2016
Let us come to measure sky,
It's length, breadth
height, weight, width, area
everything, everything to be measured.
Sitting on the back of cloud,
flying to end point of sky,
to uplift our stature and head.
If, measuring tape will not support
We will measure with our hand
And go up to moon
Moon, that comes to our lap
With every call of our mom.
We will play there,
revolving round and round,
on the dusty & wavy ground.
Then again, we have to measure
the hidden sound of lullaby
that mother used to sing,
The eternal love that grow within us
with soft tender wing, hidden under hill.
At the evening, we’ll return back
jumping from that high,
Let us come to measure sky,
Let us come to measure sky.
We will suppose to measure
The distance of land of stars
With the support of a rope
Stretching from heart of moon
And fixing with the soul of sun.
We have to measure
The intensity of glow of each star
Where our grand parents
breathing their pleasant life,
and blessing us to stay peace.
And at last,
We have to step ahead
to visualize the Sun
measuring intensity of its ray,
Temperature in June
And temperature in May.
Everything we have to weigh.
Our mind is enlightened with whose light,
Our heart is so strong with whose heat,
Our soul is like ocean, grown from which point,
He is our father, light of our day,
Let us come to measure sky,
Let us come to measure sky.
Copyright © Manmath Dalei | Year Posted 2016
My Son Moon and Star ~
Approaching the celebration of his Birth
cherishing the gift I received
within weeks of conception I knew
something amazing was in Creation ~
the Stars held a party
sending me with one of their own
Gazing at 3 shooting stars twinkling crossing the sky
It was magic It was destiny taking its flight.
In love with an October full moon
drawing and painting I liked
thinking of Vincent Van Gogh ~
caught in a loss of time
Hours going by as choosing my color
a wittness to three falling stars
A clear night sky sparkle's
A once Famous Star was sent
inspiring the tiny child inside ~
Never a doubt in my mind at all
child bearing was worth any pain received
yours will be in a pursuit of a dream ~
one to cherish and hold
My Son was born the following August ~
working on the set of Grimm 3rd season this year
as the set of Leverage for 3 years .
Has done a Indie movie here
In Paris it was seen and honored
coming soon filmed in Portland ~
"The House of Last Things "
awaiting the credits , you will see
1st Assistant Director ~ production assistant
My Young Lion Mans dream ~
A proud mom I watch every show and the credits
as foretold in a whisper to me 25 years ago
My Son & Moon and Star
A name you will all know ~
Happy Birthday to my creative Son
you will exist in my heart forever~
Copyright © Shanity Rain | Year Posted 2013
The poem is dedicated to my Mom..My bestest buddy ever..
wrote by Mrs.Madhavi.Suyog.Pagare
Mom - You are my harmonious World!!!!
MOM you are a beautiful angel who always had an great heart of making my problems simpler..just cant compare you with anyone in this world..You have been moonlighting in my life since many years..you are my shadow,you are my strength,you are great friend of my mine..thanks for being the bestest mom ever in my life..you struggled so hard for curving my career,u painted ma life with colourful rainbows,thanks for ur patience when I get panicked,you knw how to handle me..My life will be incomplete without you..I can't spend a single day without having thought abt you..you always shower with an unconditional love..you are the mesmerised persona..who lime lighted my life..my world..Wish you a very happy birthday and happy mother's day too..Love you mummy..
Mrs.Madhavi Suyog Pagare
Copyright © Madhavi Sarjare pagare | Year Posted 2013
Mommy, build me an aeroplane
and take me for a ride.
I want to bounce inside the clouds
and touch the sky's insides!
Mommy can't build you an aeroplane
or take you for a ride;
clouds are made of naught but rain,
and the sky has no insides.
Mommy build me a rocket ship
and let's go to the moon,
I want to eat a piece of cheese;
Mommy, let's go soon!
Mommy can't build you a rocket ship
and the moon's not made of cheese;
But Mommy can give you all her love
And provide for all your needs.
Mommy make me a submarine
and I'll play beneath the seas,
I want to sail to the deepest deep;
Let's go, Mommy, please!
Mommy can't make you a submarine
And there is no room for playing;
But we can take this rowboat here,
and Mommy will do the sailing.
Mommy can't build a rocket ship
no aeroplane , no sub;
But she will always be right here
To give you all her love.
Copyright © Mary Oliver Rotman | Year Posted 2015
Maybe the guff was empty—Cancer full moon eclipse
Left field call on the black wall phone
faint cry from the distant end
spoke with throat lump of capital
disaster and a troddened womans most
everydom—lost before found—somehow Jan
knew and put forth a celestial no comment with
I-hope-I-am-wrong-love gesture for the
love torn bull awaiting a cancerfold friend
offspring no spring-perhaps next spring. Anna
soild Anna so poised of classic stock sometimes
never bending to an antiflexible Taurus mood
was caught in a never place, why of questions-
depleted character strikes. Will the blood
hordes rally for the fallen “fetalrade” and
heal the internal emohurt temperature
inferno of unknown bliss. Does it ever come
at the right instant? Like where’s a cop when
you really need one—maybe 7-11 therapy would
bring solice and peace. Forgive the forgiver
and pass your sense into another ability
Keep your mind and your soul for the little
lost egg. I don’t know know or could never compromise
no more of a complex juxtaposition of life
and death than that of biobeings so
closely connected that share the same
existance, one within-one yet
percent infinity bonded in a tidewater
liquid symbiosis that no manbeing in time
past or future will hope to match let alone
entertain. Be that as it may, you’ve felt the
sting of life and the creation of flesh for a brief
moment of time in time and time is that holder of all
events we hope to achieve—your time in both
will come to be—you will share
and create from within, and not waiver
about the fallbacks we run down for
no explanations from anyone will suffice
or reason to make a whole sense of such
a fathomless inconsistency. I felt your
loss deep in my knees and thoughts flew
to your little soul upstairs. There are words
and there are no words—my deepest senses
to you and Dana—I know it will happen for you
as all things come to pass for those deserving dave collins
Copyright © Dave Collins | Year Posted 2013
My heart is fierce in its longing for you
With thoughts that mimic flitting butterflies
Like stars chasing the moon in the black velvet night
And every time I close my eyes…
It is you whose face I see
I ache from deep within my soul
Wanting to feel my fingertips trace the soft texture of your skin
Run my fingers through your soft, chocolate hair
Longing to see your smile - beaming radiant like diamonds in the sky
Lying in my bed at night the fingers of darknes touch my skin
The moon quietly tiptoes through my window
As silent witness to my bleeding heart
Closing my eyes…
Brings your image closer to my mind
For you... are a violet glistening with dew to my longing heart
An angel - in a spider's land
Where they deceitfully weave their web of lies
Unwillingly... turning your heart against me...
The mother who loves you so
I drift away into a restless sleep dreaming of you- my girl
As the early morning sun creeps through my window
I awake... with a heart that breaks all over again
I am a prisoner held captive by my love for you
My precious, little porcelain girl
My love for you will never end
I pray for strength to see us through
For someday we will win this battle
And the love we share...
Will lovingly come shining through
Copyright © anne p. murray | Year Posted 2012
NATIVE AMERICAN LORE
Mother Earth, Sister Moon
Noble nomads of their legend lands
Who praise all life with sacred sands
Oh Mother Earth who they protect
And wilfully warn all of our neglect
They sing and dance with Sister Moon
As the children laugh with great attune
Spirits of the rocks and plants give a listen
While the seeding stars above gladly glisten
Of perpetually profound wisdom they do speak
Our sisters and brothers their love we do seek
The journey of Man will decadently decrease
Until we listen to the Elders of ‘The First Peace’.
Poem between images is a quote from an American Native Elder...
MP3...Cherokee Morning Song-Native American Flute Music, By Mark Akixa
NATIVE AMERICAN LORE - Contest
Sponsored by: Frank Herrera
Copyright © Winged Warrior | Year Posted 2017
I do not know?
The moon peeks thru my window
Looking to bathe me in its midnight light
We are one yet we are two
I feel you stretch inside my stretched out belly
Watch as your hand presses against your tiny home
I start to hum my mothers song and I can feel you shift
Perhaps to listen better I smile as the thought crosses my mind
You relax as I lay we lay watching the moon watch us
It used to be me against the world
Now its us against the world
But never fear
For i am near
And while im here
No harm will come to you my dear
My lil man my heart
Though you're still so small
And the world so big
I'd face a thousand foes
Smooth out a thousand woes
Before letting you go.
Rocking in my rocking chair
I sit and dream of years to come
Your first christmas
Your second third and fourth girlfriends
The fifth scraped knee
Your sixth doctor visit
The seventh grade when you made the team
And the eighth when you almost quit
Nine dozen late night conversations
And of course the 10 million kisses
I just cant stop giving you
A lifetime of treasured memories just waiting to happen
As I sit there rocking in my rocking chair
The moon peeking thru my window
And your tiny movements
As my heart beats with your heartbeat
And our hearts beat as one
My lil man
Copyright © Jennifer Abrams | Year Posted 2012
There once was a boy we called chase-face
he dreamed of reaching outer space.
With this dream in his heart
our family will part
and this boy we never could replace.
We all dreaded that day late in June
when we knew he would fly to the moon.
So a party we had
even though we were sad
as the countdown was scheduled for noon.
Chase couldn't get rid of the grin
or the drool that was right on his chin.
He was laughing so loud
while we stood watching proud.
His journey would finally begin.
The trip was a total success.
Of course, we expected no less.
We've done all we can.
He now is a man
and all that he sees he will bless.
Copyright © Mary Nagy | Year Posted 2005
As midnight comes, moon tiptoes in to wait,
to soothe her gently with a tender smile.
Expectation is haloed on the wall
Moon angles soft light, around every wall,
where mobiles dangle, and butterflies wait,
to charm baby's eyes, and wrangle her smiles
The clocks keep ticking, and the moon must wait.
Someone is kicking inside belly's wall.
She cringes in pain, ...but then bravely smiles.
Dawn waits to smile, ...until she climbs that wall
For the Tritina "Baby" Contest: Sponsored by Craig Cornish
Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2014
Slipping sunset smoldering as descending smoke
while I steer our memory ship upon freckled sea.
Summer waves burst upon the bosom bow as liquid
bouquets releasing pale petals that kiss my cheek.
I clasp onto crashing ocean, reaching for childhood
and feel my mother's hair in the midst of silky seaweed.
My fingers waltz along the wooden hull which
enlightens me how buildings and boats live beyond us.
Crescent moon carves through night's curtains, and
fish weave through waves like endless thoughts.
Standing at stern, I smile at golden regeneration,
for this veil of light connects generations of life.
Ghosts of my mother's mermaid ballet brim alive from
bubbling clouds, searing seagulls and wild winds.
She twirls and swirls once again upon lapis sky and sea,
receiving cheers from captains and clapping clouds.
Gracing back onto land, slippery sand slides around me
as nature's crusty shawl and my mother's embrace.
Alone, I stand silent with my mind as a haunted storm
and my heart, now sunset, slips into the sea of my soul.
July 19th 2008
Sponsor: A Poet Destroyer
Contest: 101 in a ROW contest--4
Copyright © Chantelle Anne Cooke | Year Posted 2015
On the Mother Moon
Between the lipatospace and terrloid of two techtronic plates, great fountains of terrasawl pour from a captured dormant lake,
Crimsondands of cluster clouds, and seep oily resin amidst, smoking craterlike angulated compact pressing fleeing corralmist.
Giants shift as if anger was a pledge, where anglights spear trogalights in a nightmares purple wedge,
Hematite between two gifted globe’s, motionless she slips, dombing underpasses amide horologic cliffs.
Crippled vanes compressed afar across and gaping cheels of light, scream tearing peaks encounter triapoks silent ghostly nights..
Uneven acropolis’s acrylic tombs conceive, monumental infinity in calculating reprieve.
Formulated gas clouds envelope acrid crystal mists,
Amidst aggregated life forms recriminated, encrotelamented correlated twists...
Electro formations spiral tide, escaping eraptulites risk,
Riding seahoppers that do collide, encapsulating risk.
Ruthless. And Immortal diseased micro iridescences float away, on mirrored purple sky lops corroded into apparel, Where mammoth tuskers flounder and sing alongside the screaming whale...life breathes toxic gasses in a criptalonic lung bored in senapods underbelly slung.. On this moon now encapsulating life,
Grotesque forms of female genital the size of giant hands, like tortured rubber bands, Lay naked here on tectonic plates on volcanic ancient sands.
Copyright © Paul Smith | Year Posted 2014
The balmy summer breeze
Gently caresses the harvest saffron moon
While it dreams memories of autumn’s golden red kiss
Trees are shedding their emerald green summer tresses
Kindly kissing the Earth as their garments fall gently below
And flowers have shed their vivid colorful dresses
As crimson amber leaves gently anoint the ground for show
While Summer sheds her beautiful clothes -
Mother Nature lovingly seduces her to dream
She's kissed the shore with her elegant colorful attire
She has painted the world with her exquisite apparel
So now it's time for her yearly seasonal retire
She paraded us with her resplendent painted scenes
Blessed the birds in their angelic symphony of songs
So now -it’s time for her to drink the dreams of slumber
Taking the cup of restful sleep - is now where she belongs
She asks the moon to wait patiently...
For her splendid colorful return
When she'll paint the world with her radiant painted tresses
Where once more her regal colors will burn
She'll brush the Earth in regal glorious colors
Dressing up again in her brilliant, picturesque dresses
As the ruby red blaze of autumn begins to kiss the Earth
With her dazzling hues of gold and coral valor
But before she goes...
She gently reaches out with her one last caress...
Softly whispering as she sweetly kisses the moon
”It’s time now for fall - it’s time for me to undress”
She softly breathes her dulcet ending tune...
"Goodnight", she gently whispers ...
"I’ll see you soon Mr. Moon
Please...will you wait for my return?
Quietly - she drifts into her splendid, peaceful dreams…
Slumbering peacefully -
Safely harbored in Mother Nature’s loving arms
As mellow zephyrs gently caress autumn's waiting whispers
While the moon drizzles its shimmering dusty charms
Serenading nature with his soft silvery tune
As this luminous gleaming Luna Mister
Cordially opens his welcoming hands
To September's colors of orange and golden browns
Awaiting the arrival of dancing petals
As he gently embraces autumn's leaf draped lands
Next he’ll greet the season’s sister
From the pristine silverblue Northern Isles...
Awaiting dancing ivory snowflakes he'll cheerfully greet winter
With his warm welcoming golden smile
Copyright © anne p. murray | Year Posted 2012
If you could've been saved, I would've been over the moon.
But you died and you were taken far too soon.
You had to have a hysterectomy and your left leg amputated.
You were in so much pain, it was something that I truly hated.
My brother and I had to end your pain by taking you off the respirator.
If I would've had a choice, I would've rather wrestled with an alligator.
When you died, I came home and licked my wounds.
If you could've been saved, I would've been over the moon.
[Dedicated to Agnes Johnson (1948-2013) who passed away on March 6, 2013.]
Copyright © randy johnson | Year Posted 2014
I see her in the sky
At the zenith in the black space
guiding us to our path
While she stayes stuck
unsure of her own
Copyright © Jamecia Buggs | Year Posted 2011
New pain and suffering
Never ending, never dying
Not a soul, not a sinner
Never wishing, never crying
Now a time, then a place
First a heart, then a spade
Next of kin, next in line
Never being, never made
Not to be mistaken for
Not to be forgiven from
Never to be damaged for
Banished to or driven from
Take my hand, take it now
Take it while you can
Take your time forever
Help me understand
Take it to the smithy
He'll bash it out for you
Take your heart to Hylda
She'll bare it on the wall
Take it to the jester
He'll figure out the gist
Who can see your mind
Who can hear your fist
Take it home to Linah
She'll box it up for you
Serve it to you backwards
Send you to the zoo
New moon never rising
New leaf never dying
New sorrow never sown
New grief never known
Take your mother by the hand
Touch her soft and gentle soul
Touch your brother, take his hand
Take his burden, feel him stand
Dear Linah, sweet goddess
Please tell me, is it you?
Catch the breeze, catch the wave
Feel your heart drift away
Copyright © Mike Martin | Year Posted 2015
You are the changing moon,
Always shifting, never constant,
Your phases are unpredictable,
Mom, you are the moon, who stands alone in the distance,
Always watching over her stars in the shadows,
Shining your light over our world,
Through our darkest hours of the night.
Copyright © Marilyn Hernandez | Year Posted 2007
By: Gwen Dixon
For Rain, the Story
She drips ever so slowly, working her way down
Eying the world ever-so carefully from her tiny, gray cloud.
She wraps the world with cleanliness, washing away the sun.
Yet she can tear down like bullets, sent from a liquid gun.
She builds up like mountains, but remains silent
That is until she pours down, and then becomes violent.
She tears up oceans and rivers and streams
Haunting there after, like a child’s bad dreams.
But who is this woman? A woman called rain?
Does anyone really know from whom she came?
Where does she stay when she doesn’t pour down?
Does anyone know what’s beyond her gray cloud?
I know who she is and just where she came.
Yes, child, would you like to hear the story of the rain?
Would you like to know about her creation?
Do you want to know what formed her very foundation?
They say her mother was the moon itself.
But when she was born, she was smaller than an elf.
However, soon she grew so strong and big,
That she could snap a bone like it was a twig.
Her mother than built a house on a cloud
For Rain to live in when she didn’t pour down.
It was big and gray, made of stone.
But Rain was sad living all alone.
So the moon created a horse made of the sun.
But Rain was still lonely with just one.
So her mother made her one more.
Just to sooth her daughter’s uproar.
She named the two Glisten and Sky, for they were so bright.
But even though they were from the sun, they weren’t yellow; they were white.
She would ride them at night across the black sky.
Screaming with joy as they projected their light.
~~~~~So, whenever you see light across the sky~~~~~
~~~~Think of Rain, for she’s riding up high.~~~~
Copyright © Gwen Dixon | Year Posted 2010
The Mother Moon laughed and sang a song,
But it seemed to die
Upon the leaves.
And Sister Stars
Watch me as I dance my way
Through these green fields.
Guide me on my way,
With your magical song.
Without you I don’t know
Where I am
Or what this place can be.
But I will let there branches reach for me.
In this dream,
The leaves stroking my face.
The wind whispers softly my name,
With Mother Moon guiding my way
I know who I am,
Where I am,
And where I can be.
Laughing and singing all the way
I will get there
And Sister Stars
Watch me as I dance my way
Through these green fields.
Copyright © Kara McLain | Year Posted 2011
I. The Virgin
Dimpled white dove of a girl,
tell me where did you go
when I opened the little door
to your cage--
did you flutter, supple and blushing
into the half-moon's glimmer?
Floating on the breeze of girlhood,
did you caress the cheeks of new lovers
as you whispered by?
Did you sing the songs they yearned to hear,
those secret virgin songs of canaries
and the pinkest of May's blossoms?
Tell me, virgin, where did you go?
II. The Whore
And you, young tigress with
patchouli-scented heart, how did you endure
when men exchanged secrets of your naked
body while you slept?
In dreams they whispered,
"Jezebel," and you clung to the sound of it
tell me, how did you feed your sweet
milky light to moth-men, even as
your soul's moon waned and drained you,
your body devoid of light?
Who guarded your nymph's soul from harm--
tell me, whore, who nourished you?
III. The Mother
Mother of mushroom, mother of sprite
tell me how you gave birth to an angel
by the light of the full moon,
squatting on your forest bed of moss and memories
tell me how you became only a flood of nourishment.
A cloud of light. A safe buoy of love
in the vast, startling sea of the world
and nothing more. Not for your Self.
When your angels have flown from you,
will you mourn an empty nest?
Will you be broken, or will you be free?
Goddess mother, tell me...
Who will you be?
Copyright © Jessamyn Duckwall | Year Posted 2015
For all the things that you do for me,
For being my rock and crutch,
For always caring and believing,
For loving me so much,
Through all the mistakes and ups and downs,
You've always been by my side,
For showing me how to live and love,
For being my council and guide,
My conscience, values and principles,
All the goodness that I possess,
These gifts that you've taught and shown,
I'm able to honour and express,
On this day and every day,
I'll always be your loving son,
Thank you for each and everything,
Thank you for being my mum,...
Copyright © david bucknell | Year Posted 2017
I am three, and my mother is driving the car
at night. I sit in the silent back seat falling
in and out of sleep but every time I surface
I see a silver eye staring at me.
It is the moon.
Thirty minutes, an hour, two hours, and still
she is there, a spot on my window, so close
I could hold her in my cupped hands
and not spill.
“Mother,” I say, “why does the moon follow me?”
“Because she loves you.”
I am five, and my mother is lying beside me
in my small bed in the awful dark.
“Sleep well, my baby,” she sings in Korean,
“don’t cry, you rooster
or my baby might wake.”
But I am only half listening to the surface
of my mother’s silver voice.
After she leaves, the moon outside
goes on humming the rest of her song.
Copyright © Hyuna Kim | Year Posted 2008
She begins to swoon when Timberwolves croon
a lost lovers tune to their goddess moon.
When a handsome loon begs his mate to spoon
in late afternoon, she blushes maroon.
One day very soon, she'll burst our balloon
for poisons we've strewn, which nothing's immune.
For contest: Rhymers delight-internal momorhyme
Sponsor: John Hamilton
Copyright © Arlene Smith | Year Posted 2017
When the sun rushed
To touch the finish line
Faithfully following a line
Dusk descended on dawn
Dewdrops fell on the lawn
It’s time, ‘let’s retire to bed
A mother to her daughter said.
Alarmed by the darkness around
When lights were turned off she found
The moon parading in the sky
Through the window with invisible wings fly
“Is that God’s light up there?”
She questioned her mother looking fair
“Sure, moon is God-given light
Replied her mother looking very bright
Another question came in a leap
“Will He too put it off and go to sleep?”
“Oh no, He is always awake dear.”
Then, leaving her mother whom she held so near
“As long as God is awake
I need not be awake
No need to shed any tear
Nor about darkness anymore fear.”
Upon realizing God’s care
The reassured child left her cares
And fell into a peaceful sleep
No sooner, when into her cot she did leap.
God is aware
Both, about our fears in the dark
As well as frustrations that do lark
Perhaps you’re experiencing lonely hours
With illness making your life taste sour
Doubts arise on difficult choice
Fears flood your soul naïve to voice
Keeping you from being whole
Rest assured, God is always awake.
Copyright © esther robinson | Year Posted 2007
When I was growing up, TV was all the rage
You'd read the weekly guide from page to page.
One of the shows that was never to be missed
"The Honeymooners", where Alice always ended up being kissed.
"Bang, Zoom, to the Moon Alice", Ralph would say
Then realizing what a jerk he was, he would always have to pay.
I remembered that line because I had a sibling - female
One girl amongst five boys made her all too often wail.
Being closest to me in terms of age
She always wanted to tag along, which put me in a rage.
My mother used to say to me more times than less
"You have to treat your sister like a little Princess".
Remembering all the times she made me mad
I got an inspiration that I thought wasn't bad.
One day my sister, whom I love so dear
Went crying to my mother...with "Crocodile tears".
So I was prepared for that eventful tryst
Like Ralph...shaking my hand and raising my fist.
And when my mom would her favorite line festoon,
I answered back...
"One day Mom, that little Princess is gonna be the Queen of the Moon!"
Copyright © Daniel Cwiak | Year Posted 2010
The moon shines down basking us in her pure white light
Reflecting the sun’s image onto us all, with her own peaceful twist
If only we could say the same of ourselves
Do we reflect such light and peace onto those around us?
Turning fire into tranquillity, dispersing the flames
Or do we burn even hotter: stars, suns in our own mini universe, consuming the weak,
scalding those in our orbit
I oft wonder if the moon knows what she sees.
Does she pull at the oceans to dampen our folly; turn the seas to change our perspective?
When the sun grows too strong and leads us astray, does she bring the eclipse to shield us
from the intensity, bringing respite?
Does she place us on the darkened naughty step to contemplate our heated actions and her
She knows what she sees.
Our glorious, unfaltering satellite, basking us in her pure white light
Copyright © Kat Crane | Year Posted 2009