Best Lunar Poems
By the early years of that ancient decade, the 70's,
I'd tired of my obstreperous tomboyish games:
kickball with the neighbor kids, sledding in the winter,
desecrating the peacefulness of our street's grave yard
with our bike races, tag, and hide-n-seek.
And I tired too of the pastimes of my season preferred:
chasing siblings with a hose, giggling and gleeful,
swimming at Weed Park,
and my perpetual swinging through those long, sweet sunshiny days
longed for during classes in my school.
Old friends grew up.
Boredom anon crept upon the remnant of my childhood.
At times - through infancy and beyond -
I'd been beset by a feeling of loss
over something not yet sought.
It was something kin to loneliness, but no. . .not that.
More a sense of gloom - a sorrowing for what?
I still don't really know.
Despite the days of inexplicable forlornness,
I grew more and more cavalier
throughout the days that came
between those odd forlorn days
because my old timidity, in fact, had waned. . .
Another face, fairer, appeared.
It waxed and glowed - assured -
until those “days - in- between”
had finally surpassed the melancholy ones.
I learned to stifle monotony and squelch the blues.
I became a "doer" of too many things to name
as I went gliding through with the Gibbous moon.
Soon enough, a fullness had arrived.
And now it must disseminate.
In the years to come, I'll be wondering this. . .
Will the shining face I show the world wane too,
and will my youth's strange darkness re-emerge,
eclipsing what light remains as I drift,
having come full-cycle,
into my final
crescent phase?
5/21/14
Submitted 3/30/16 to PD's Any Poem # 38 Poetry Contest
Moon beams in distance.
Carried by glittering waves,
Reflecting an ageless tide!
Rays of moonlight fall,
Caressing, soothing, calming,
Man's broken, weary hard heart!
He stands in the sand
Moonbeams touching his shoulder
One giant step for mankind!
The moon is falling,
from the sky coming down fast!
Can the mighty ocean last?
Surf's up came the cry,
Many feet come running by,
Can we catch that last big wave?
Under the broad sweep of endless sky,
In that rare and hallowed moment
When the moon, in audacious stealth,
Edges before the sun,
A quietude descends, profound and deep.
The air, thick with anticipation,
Holds its breath;
The earth, in its tireless orbit,
Pauses—in reverence
To the grandeur to which we all belong.
This spectacle, this dance of light and shadow,
Where the day is night and the sun is dark,
Unveils the universe’s unfathomable mystery,
A reminder of our fleeting passage
In the boundless march of time.
As the corona flares,
A crown of light, ethereal and untouchable,
Encircles the shadowed moon—
A garnered glimpse into the sun’s hidden majesty.
In this moment, we are but specks,
Yet infinitely connected to the cosmic ballet.
This eclipse, eagerly awaited, a miracle witnessed,
Serves not just as a meeting of celestial bodies,
But as a bridge across the void,
Linking heart to heart, soul to soul,
To the very essence of existence itself.
In awe, we stand,
Observers of the universe’s embrace,
Witnesses to the endless dance
Of light and shadow,
Of time and space,
And the quiet, enduring marvel
That is life, in its myriad forms and fleeting beauty.
Raven Blue twilight,
Existence epitomized,
Formless shadows lurk.
8~June~2017
American cosmonaut
moonwalking
Humanity is tethered to the line,
sweating vacuum fear facing the void
Planet of the apes ...
backwards talking
Silent film projector reel
spinning in reverse ... time capsule re-entry noise
Caveman slug in a spacesuit
retrograde crawling
Mushroom cloud cinematography ...
flashback to the future Stone Age trajectory
And Superman in a Captain America spacesuit
ain’t trying to save no one
The giant red star of Krypton
orbiting Washington
is gonna explode,
sucking the Earth into a black hole
Listen to the Neanderthal war chants
devolving into military gorilla grunts
Toraburu ... Rising sun trouble coming
Hear the nuclear choo-choo,
rich uranium promises ain’t worth nothing
Woe, woe ... woe!
Tick, tick ... lunar ... tick, tick
Trouble means Toraburu,
choo-choo ... choo-choo
Woe, woe ... woe!
Tick, tick ... lunar ... tick, tick
Toraburu,
lost in space translation
Hear the choo-choo,
around the bend coming is nuclear devastation
And Super Tweetman in a Captain America spacesuit
ain’t trying to save no one
The white dwarf star of Krypton
orbiting Washington
is gonna implode,
sucking the Earth into a black hole
Superman can you climb
out of the bottomless black hole?
American cosmonaut
moonwalking ...
backwards talking ...
retrograde crawling
Toraburu ... Rising sun trouble coming
Hear the nuclear choo-choo,
rich uranium promises ain’t worth nothing
Woe, woe ... woe!
Tick, tick ... lunar ... tick, tick
Rubble piles of Toraburu,
choo-choo ... choo-choo
Woe, woe ... woe!
Tick, tick ... lunar ... tick, tick
Toraburu,
trouble for the United Nations
Hear the choo-choo,
around the bend coming is global desolation
Toraburu,
insanity curse is coming soon
Death smoke from the choo-choo,
will blot out the sun and moon
Woe, woe ... woe!
Superman is kryptonite sick
Woe, woe ... woe!
Tick, tick ... lunar ... tick, tick
Captain America is radiation sick
Woe, woe ... woe!
Tick, tick ... lunar ... tick, tick
Lunar
Full Moon closest to Fall is termed ‘Harvest Moon’
That’s the seasonal time to harvest
Next Full Moon the ‘Hunter’s Moon’ comes very soon
To go for hunting is the best.
In respective orbital path
On certain Full Moon night
Sun-Moon in-between Earth
Come in a line, just right.
Sun-Moon-Earth paired together
When come in perfect alignment
Lunar Eclipse will occur
Technical term ‘SYZGY’ has been set.
Under thinner-most shadow of Earth if Moon slips
Eclipse is known to be Pen-Umbral
If partially shadowed, it’s Partial Eclipse
Fully shadowed Eclipse is called Total.
Total Lunar Eclipse, now being called ‘Blood Moon’
As the eclipsed moon is not dull or dark losing glamor
But exhibits rusty red-hue glow looking boon
Sun-spectrum through atmosphere display reddish color
If the Harvest Moon shows Blood Moon at perigee
The closest position of Moon to Earth
One tenth larger and thirty percent brighter to see
Spectacular ‘Super Moon’ most worth.
If consecutive four ‘Blood Moon’ appeared
Rare occasions of lunar performance
The event is known as ‘Lunar Tetrad’
In between eclipse to come has no chance.
Watching ‘Super Moon’ I felt lucky
Then, have I gone lunatic?
Enjoying marvelous cosmos beauty?
No, I am just romantic.
Themes # 5 Poems on Moon Contest Honorable mention
Sponsor SKAT A
White moon,
Riding on the shoulders of a colored rain cloud,
admiring her reflections in a crystal stream,
which fell asleep while visiting dreams
of fishes dancing to the deep voice of a bass drum.
The darkness creeps in on its belly,
and draped a mantle over Tennessee’s head.
The white moon, now naked,
smiles with a soft glow
that mirrors in the vacant stares of the houses next door.
Sad these houses appear.
Lips slowly drain the evidence
of a crescent moon from a tall glass of whiskey,
then the voices arrive, hitchhiking on the twilight’s breath,
while attempting to balance feminine energies
on spirituality’s deception.
Minds follow Luna Blanca, a lesser light,
through the snares of the dark,
but the shadows grip ankles inside the faded light.
I am a
lone moon drifter--
My dreams of light
comes to life at night...
I peek up
at the moon at dawn
to realize so soon
her light is gone within
a yawn.
Strangely,
my sorrow
relies on the moonlight
tomorrow--
to get me through another day.
I've followed the winds of aspirations,
heard their sighed exasperations...
I look forward to what all
of the lunar poets have to say.
The light
is not its own, but
caught and passed on
to comfort a darkened world.
It inhabits the lonely places
and where absence
has gone unhealed,
becoming a summoner
of dreams and visions
as if seeking a form
to manifest something
of itself in the apparitions
wandering human sleep,
or in a memory
that gently brushes
the mind when still,
or drifting far away,
as the image
of a mother's cooling hand
caressing a child’s
fevered brow, or
comes upon the senses
like a breath
in the soft sweep of hair
across the lips
of a summers evening,
when love, for a moment,
has the power to make
the soul believe
it is not alone.
And there too in a song
surfacing in a few haunting notes
that sets a longing loose
to hear it all.
A fabulous Italian mini-lunar-naut
Traded his mini- spaceship for a cot,
No more moon trips,
No beeps or blips
Relaxation and rest duly sought
Dreams aplenty for that lunar-naut.
He dreamed of lots and lots of space,
He dreamed of traveling all over the place.
He dreamed of women with eyes of pink.
He dreamed of cats with hair of mink.
He dreamed of oceans, turquoise blue.
That little mini-lunar-naut, was asleep so true.
He dreamed away a month and a day,
Until he was swept in a broom, far away.
Poor little mini-lunar-naut, far from Rome,
Is using a rusty can in the dump as his new home.
Evening enchantress, she carefully selects
The most exquisite place in the sky to repose.
A marvel is our Luna, inspiring
Silver poetry, tides, and young forbidden love.
Delicately pretending to not watch
At the same time, missing nothing
Stirring imaginations, inspiring music and song.
Tempting the super controlled to be more brazen.
Inciting riots and applauding unfamiliar
Maniacal behavior in her full of herself state.
Evening enchantress, never going lightly
Especially when she is full.
Magic evening enchantress, revered by all.
Showing her face, and her wiles.
Sharing whispers with hoot owls and wolves.
Visiting nightly, outside windows of dreamers.
Written 3-08-19
Contest: Liquid Luna Lace
Sponsor: Chantelle Anne Cooke
lunar flower folds
as morning glory opens....
bees buzz happy tune
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
the moon pours silver
over the earth,
softly speaking
to roots
and
restless wings.
she tugs the tides
like threads
from a hem,
undoing
daylight's seams.
under her
reflected
light
even stones
remember
how
to dream.
The earth—attractive,
fertile, lewd. Beckons hither
to the virgin moon.