Best Crescents Poems
Paint me on your canvas of rosy dawn,
dewy scarlet daisy blooms in soft hues,
your cherry-dipped fingers dwelling upon,
crimson cool honey dripping to heart's muse.
Drench my soul in your ethereal touch,
Inhaling your musk with lazy noon mush,
dancing to whispers of orchards you clutch,
tendrils in vineyard of my cocooned blush.
Sing me a rhapsody of clouds in white,
lilac summer holding onto spring breeze,
my hair tickle your glances at twilight,
velvet breaths fuse in woods with rustling trees.
Silver crescents blaze moonlit pearls my love,
lulled in silks of tranquil stars from above.
May 29, 2020
Summers heat sonnet Poetry Contest
Sponsor: John Hamilton
~Winner: 2nd Place
BRIAN'S SELECT 2,any form,any theme Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Brian Strand
~Winner: 2nd Place
Grace and Solitude
Peaceful stillness covers me - wide eyes embraced when I see
Luna rise up with her pale face, with a humble yet simple grace,
That waxes large and then wanes, beckoning to clear windowpanes;
Hypnotic awe in harvest light or when blue moons ride starry night -
Teasing, changes her April name from pink to fish yet remains the same -
With her ever changing shape – crescents thin to full moonscape -
Now unfolds a glimmering gown while tip-toeing through a hush a bye town;
No fanfare, no rockets to proclaim her silent ascent, dark skies to claim,
Blesses silence – clamor sent away; nocturne opened - solitude to pray
Swaddled in a silver cape – floating into dreamy escape -
Breathing in her unselfish grace in borrowed light from a solar birthplace
Cradled in her cradle song – soft midnight murmurs to prolong;
A silent whisper – a prelude - to reverent reveries of gratitude;
A gentle light - peace to expand – her solitude and grace walk hand in hand.
ALL the flipping,
tossing and turning,
sand turning black
then red at dawn;
still yawning.
The cock crowing;
sun and moon avoid
my half-open trance.
My crescents ache
from the webbed glass
in the lacrimal corners.
Shadows creep,
reflections of my BOO.
I try to force
my opponent
feet over head,
so I can go back to bed.
Goblin of a sandman
is giggling,
crooning creepy songs.
Dusk breaks and I
hit the Boogieman
full force with his own
container of grit;
I pass out.
As I awaken,
with a blazing grin,
I shine the hourglass,
so peacefully at rest.
Moonlight Shadow
Broken dreams
On purple flamed wings
Celtic rumors
Burning bright
Crosses and crescents
Knights and swords
In the mist of a weary mystical night
I saw her lying there, chest broken and bare
Picking her up, horse galloping away
We escaped the arrows and swords
She my sworn enemy lay half dead and splayed
My duty for not to tribes, but only to save
Slaved to the sword, this moment I escaped
Both bloodshed and grief
Freedom at last
In a hut in the forest
I dressed her wounds
I caressed her heart
Our eyes met over the firelight
I emptied myself into her
She, with lips so sweet
Drained the flood of tears and hate
From my very being
Shocked that love should strike me as an arrow
I held her, my first and only love
For three days and three nights
We whispered to each other foreign words
I touched her face and as she touched mine
In my arms she died
Softly and loved
I buried her
I buried my hate
I buried my sword
I buried my history
Celtic rumors
Burning bright
I, at peace
For the final flight
I held love within my arms
For that celestial moment in time
Now the final embrace
Wrinkled and old
I kiss deaths door
Knowing within
She is there to greet me
~
Thou art my pleading heart
Thy kiss my tendered dream
Neath moonlit crescents part
A float yon slumbered stream
Thy flesh of satin touch
As sweet as midnight stroll
Lest life to pass me by
A’ shimmer ‘pon my soul
Pure eyes of supple gaze
So deeply call my mind
To spring blessed feathered days
Lo’ promises to find
Soft lips a’ fall my own
As delicate a rose
Of heaven’s holy throne
O’er whispered breezes flows
My love, o’ take me so
Relieve my tortured fire
This pleading heart doth show
Tis thee my true desire
~
shun the encroachment of the dark
focus intently at the task at hand
blinded to peripheral vision
wriggle free of your silhouette
present beyond the corner
circles encompass
captured by crescents
spinning in their circular hold
neither freedom nor imprisonment will ride
reality is just the ache of the dream
the muddled yell & yawn
every emotion a mere numbing agent
sometimes, I think I peeled away the relief
but the block forms are pattern upon pattern
and I'm a diminishing darkness
at the approach of dusk.
orbiting her planet here
in my spacious long distance solitude
this synchronous rotation
only adds to my loneliness
watching her with a
three hundred and sixty five
twenty four seven obsession
peeking around crescents to catch a glimpse
getting attention by rare total momentary eclipse
but occasionally I am fully exposed
to the wonderful sight and beauty of glowing blue hues
there was a time when I was once part of you
you were once part of me
now only a crash course destiny
can bring us together
"the earth's dark veil slivered the heaven's,
crimson shadows birthed the moon"
Kristin Palm
Existence
"the earth's dark veil
slivered the heavens,
crimson shadows
birthed the moon"
into a thousand crescents
Every prayer, ever uttered
was written in the dust of
these forsaken ravines
Oceans flung their waters
into the wide heavens
of man's total Regret
There in the silent void
of consequence
the hidden forces of
Creation met
to silently knit
each shattered Atom
of beauty
into existence again
Suzanne Delaney
Silver dunes mimic the moon,
Curving in peaceful crescents
Toward the sea's endless depths
To embrace darkness.
In a dark night sky, you take your place.
We can see your reflection in the influenced tide.
Why is it you show only one face?
Half of you we see, the other half you hide.
We can see your reflection in the influenced tide.
Moon, you have a side hidden away from view.
Half of you we see, the other half you hide.
Shrouded in darkness, it is the side we call “new”.
Moon, you have a side hidden away from view.
What is on the side we cannot see?
Shrouded in darkness, it is the side we call “new”.
To the earthbound, it is a mystery.
What is on the side we cannot see?
We gaze at varying crescents of you in many ways.
To the earthbound, it is a mystery.
Your full bright sphere we see once in thirty days.
We gaze at varying crescents of you in many ways.
Each passing hour changes your position.
Your full bright sphere we see once in thirty days.
Tales are woven from myth and superstition.
Each passing hour changes your position.
Moon, your origin is something nobody knows.
Tales are woven from myth and superstition.
You are the brightest until the sun shows.
Moon, your origin is something nobody knows.
Why is it you show only one face?
You are the brightest until the sun shows.
In a dark night sky, you take your place.
Sweet play of water, little fish lick
and ticklishly suck with soft
tentative lips.
Moon plays our music
with dancing white faeries
on small lulling waves.
And you are beside me...
My nose in your neck;
Fragrant ozone and coconut
oily mixture with salt on
my tongue.
With caresses of wind, voices with
smiles reach our outer shell
playfully singing.
I wonder how wandering thoughts
from my enchanted mind
enter yours but they do.
For you turn your head and reply:
"I hear you"
Before I kiss the questions away
from your eyes,
my fingers trail crescents around
your full lips;
And our green and brown eyes
melt away to mint chocolate
drops dripping with love.
Grey green crescents fall so lightly
flickering softly in early morn
pungent scents waft all around me
a soothing balm for the weary worn.
Reams of silvery leaves are spun
growing abundantly down under
rows and rows of eucalyptus trees
are filled with medicinal wonders.
Strong scented leaves help and heal
easing pain within body and soul
bringing comfort and relief
nature’s gift for my heart to behold.
Written on 11/11/2019
The dark side of the moon, like earth?
Carefully shadows will appear; surface.
Each new discovery’s like a baby’s birth.
Astronauts alight with mysteries to erase.
The dark side of the moon; negative space.
Its quarters and crescents mingle with stars.
Lovers still arm in arm; with a tighter embrace.
In love, one day, will be considered “over Mars.”
The dark side of the moon gives no cures; ills.
But you never know if the answer for cancer
Is in the crater’s depths or on the black hills.
One bright night will behemoths rescind; a blur?
Written: December 09, 2025, for contest Sponsored by: Tom Woody
******************
My fingers are stone—
numb knuckles carved by the night’s chisel
Feet drag as anchors through drifts of powdered glass
The compass of my breath falters,
And silence gnaws at the marrow of my resolve.
I have always worshiped the wild
Scaled ridges where condors carve crescents in the sky,
wandered valleys where rivers rehearse their rhapsodies.
They warned me: "not alone, not in winter."
But I have always been a misfit pilgrim,
a shadow that strays from the procession.
Above me, the moon is a lantern of bone,
It's a halo crown of cold fire
I can hear as the air is so silent
the quiet of galaxies swirling,
the tiny hum of everlasting
despair hangs through me
similar to a worn-out cloak,
I wish to shut my eyes
to break down into the lull.
Yet—
In the argent glow, a vision unfurls.
Not a face, but a flame-shaped silhouette,
weeping rivers of light,
calling my name with a voice
that trembles the frost.
It is her.
My wife, my tether, my echo.
A surge rises—
not mine, but borrowed from some celestial reservoir.
Words ignite in my skull: "Rise. Rise."
And the mountain, once a labyrinth,
unfurls a path as a silver ribbon.
I stumble forward,
hearing voices braided with wind.
“Is that you? We were sent to find you.”
Before the dark folds me under,
I whisper, “Who sent you?”
And the answer drifts,
soft as snow,
bright as salvation:
"Your Guardian-angel."
Alphonse Mucha's art was so influential it helped create Art Nouveau.
A flamboyant sensuous style, with softness, swirls, curls and beauty.
It heralded and celebrated new art as a counterpoint
to the dawn of the harsh steel and smoke of the industrial revolution.
Inspiring the unique creations of architect Antoni Gaudí,
Sowing the seeds for another revolution in style - the Art Deco movement.
Mucha's style and grace in posters and art works truly showcased aesthetic vales
a flagrant appreciation of beauty, style and good taste.
It celebrated women, portrayed in flowing robes and curvaceous, poised with lush flowers in their hair.
There were halos, crescents, swirls and lots of flowers in the background.
The Art Nouveau movement embraced all forms of art and design
incorporating the swirls and curves of Mucha's paintings and posters including:
architecture, furniture, glassware, graphic design, jewelry, painting, pottery,
metalwork, textiles, advertisements, even appearing on Czechoslovakia's currency notes.
Alphonse Mucha's art and design are truly beautiful and inspirational.