Best Lune Poems
I would practice each day without satisfaction,
longing to capture the moon's oratory.
DeBussy, God, help me, I should say that I'm sorry!
Though my fingers were nimble, I'd lose concentration,
and fumble along with a grumble and sigh.
Provoking the chords, that should tumble and rise
into a glorious, exquisite river of mist.
But, when thumbs went adrift, beyond the abyss,
I'd return to the first bar, and start once again.
-
I'd retrace every note of the measure and time. And time after time,
I'd assault a B-flat, where a C-sharp should chime.
All my hopes and my schemes came from this longing to please.
My dreams to succeed, and to offer this gift.
To grant her the wish.
The rapture, to swoon, as I played 'Clair de Lune'.
My mother's favorite. -- And I aimed for the moon
__
I remember my mother with dishes piled high,
soap on her nose,
calling out from the kitchen.
“That time, much better!”
Or my dad, in the dark room, Walter Cronkite, his companion,
calling out from the shadows,
“I think now, you've got it!”
Tonight in the dim light,
I'll watch how the moonlight,
slides over the piano, sliding over the keys.
It seems that the moon knows,
that time cannot stand still.
That years come and the years go.
But the tune, is the same tune, and the moon is the same moon.
And DeBussy still winces in the place I called home.
Half-past dusk, and I am seated on a low wall,
the custodian of the garden my Mother made.
Two of the primary colours rest awhile,
but blue is still busy.
There is a stillness,
punctuated by furtive shadows.
Above, silent, like a parent standing over a sleeping child,
the moon keeps watch.
So distant, yet almost touchable.
The Sun may be gone but I will see it again soon,
and in the meantime it consoles me with the gift of reflection.
Just like my Mother.
Her spirit is in this place, and I am not alone.
5th August 2018
For contest 'Clair de Lune', sponsor Craig Cornish
When evening dusk falls from the edge of night
like a loosened taffeta from bridal halls
the wrist pulse slows as the stars align
their talisman to keyon thoughts of you
She dances to the steps of light
like a wild specimen heralding dark graphite
tuning herself into the rocking motion
of a philanthropic ocean;
She is your clair de lune, your telling rune
beneath the velvet cloak of a thickening eve
she sends you dreams of love and fantasies
that reign as easily as gliding rain
into your hungry heart....
July 29, 2018
moved by music
there's an up and down
in every key...
...the puppeteer's ploy
"I play a mean, Human."
snickered the piano
Lune Contest
nette onclaud
Visual 1
May 12th. 2020
SASH OF TEARS
The frigid air
suffocates slow the crimson heart:
sash of tears...
________________________________
***#1
Pretty Little Lunes - Poetry Contest
Sponsor Name - Andrea Dietrich
Olive Eloisa Guillermo
9:50 pm, August 02, 2015
Life's highway is strewn,
with fragments,
of rainbow-hued dreams.
8/2/15
For Andrea's Pretty Little Lunes contest
Visual #7
Kelly Lune
~God Almighty~
(Lune )
God Almighty the Lord
Created all
He made you and me
Gods blessings countless
Measureless
His loves infinite
God surely sees all
He’s patient
And so full of grace
He's merciful to all
Ev'n when man
Rejects God often
Still the Lord loves man
No matt'r what
And saves wants all.
Dorian Petersen Potter
aka ladydp2000
copyright@2007
July.13.2017
So now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; but the greatest of these is love.
1 Corinthians 13:13 (NIV)
-“For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life.
John 3:16 (NIV)
- Rejoice in hope, be patient in tribulation, be constant in prayer
Romans 12: 12 ( NIV )
-The Lord will fight for you, and you have only to be silent.”
Exodus 14: 13 ( NIV )
“Kindness is a language which the deaf can hear and the blind can see.”
- Mark Twain
~Author's Notes:
"The Lune" is also known as the American Haiku. It was first created by the poet Robert Kelly, and was a result of Kelly’s frustration with the English Haiku.
A pensive moon lets fall the rain
that calls you to a darkened sill,
where, apprehensive, you remain,
held captive in her thrall
until she waxes at the window pane
to ask intently if you'll still be back
when she's gone past her wane
Beyond the glass,
you swear you will...
bundles of cotton
have sprouted from mirrored glass
in luminous bouquets
________________________________
8/4/15 Visual #6 (Form: Collom Lune)
Written for the "Pretty Little Lunes" contest
Sponsored by Andrea Dietrich
Breathtaking beauty ...
A connection beyond words,
Painter of my dreams.
Governess of endless flowing tides
Ancient Orb that mystifies
Dusty ochre, bright hot white
Cycling and glowing with borrowed light
Cratered desolate dusty reflector,
Yet invoking your own haunting specter
Revealing all when heavily laden
Ebony cloaking when waning maiden
Luminous shafts caress and bathe
The supple skin of lover’s raves
Wondrous wishing talisman bold
Wide-eyed children cup and hold
Your gleaming form within outstretched hands
All tiny grains of billowing sand
Haunting compass; true and right
For countless seaman through the night
Ageless past and endless tomorrows
Stalwart celestial illuminations borrowed
Rest well within your firmament high
From darkest sable to lapis lazuli
Grace us again in coming night
With opaque splashes
Of
Perfect
Moonlight
While the city rests under the velvet of skyline ,
I lie awake to trace a highway of clouds
trailing against a lunar pageant,
as evening shadows alter different time zones
throughout the universe's frame--
while ambrosial rawness enters my pores
from the fondle of this waxing red-ball.
Oh Clair de Lune...there is something mysterious
about your portrait of near midnight: amiable...
dangerous, and carnal ; just ripe for my heart
to listen as nocturnal larks trill a serenade--
each note ready to multiply into hundreds
of minutes; that such orb's mystery remains
unanswered by all creatures anticipating
a new moon's rhapsody gradually simmering
like your allured chant which flames
upon lovers' clandestine rendezvous.
For Craig Cornish: Claire De Lune
Revised, new poem 8/7/2018
old honkytonk piano
the ghosts of your notes
hover above you
silence becomes longing
for rhythm and rollicking songs
lost to time.
Lune Contest
nette onclaud
Visual 1
May 10th. 2020
Second Place
LATE BLOOMER
sun highlights
the bod of oak bark -
Autumn knight
CLINGERS
won’t let go -
cling to puppy love,
its branches
CLEAVERS
cleaves to old
relationship vow -
storm shakes loose
LANDING
the leaves land
amidst the old maids’
bitterness
BRITTLE BONES
the children
jump in old gals’ laps
living loud
RING AROUND THE ROSIES
circle round
sing, “ashes…ashes…”
and fall down
LEARNING CURVE
life up there
in the lusty air
now seems strange
GONE WITH THE WIND
scattering
the old bats’ ashes
to the wind
REBORN
phoenix lands
a bitty wiser
and lighter
Autumn speaks to me
Golden tones
Leaves are whispering
Blue skies arc
Bare branches appear
Winter’s bones