Best Old Moon Poems
HALLOWEEN FUN
Carving the pumpkin, oh such fun
How they danced when dad was done
Twisted mouth with large, black eyes
To scare the kids, then pumpkin pies
Hear those darlings on the street
Tiny fingers, tiny feet
Soon they’ll ring the bell and shout
“Trick or treat. Hand outs!”
But see old moon, he’s hanging high
A big gold searchlight in the sky
Just peeping o’er, the sun has set
With rosy, glorious hue, and yet,
A solar quake now rumbles forth
Spewing flame toward the earth
Those fiery rays have stirred the dead
The night is bright, the moon is red
Check the time – it’s nine o five
Jack O Lanterns come alive
Oh, how they cry, each frightened child
Belegged pumpkins running wild
I’ll tell you how kids went to bed
Twas in the ground without a head
Those empty gourds were hearty fed
The night was cursed, the moon was red
Moo haha! haha! haha! hah OH
Haha! haha! haha! HAH!
Dave Austin
As the evening crept in
whisper of pines unfolded slowly another story,
every single instant seemed one decade;
unknown stars above blinking endlessly,
hand in hand ,our hearts unbridled themselves
and then escaped somewhere into darkness,
old moon unveiled the amazing mountains
every tree inundated by oozing silver;
under this autumn sky
enchanted by immense beauty
our speechless,unbounded moments
as four eyes met in love once more;
unabated passion about to explode moment
into fragments of pleasure
unlimited,boundless and never ending;
we inhaled fragrance of love
unfurling like a rose every second,
I thought of the universe for a moment
even though it seemed oblivion to us.
###########################
For David's VOW/CON contest
Contest Rules:1 original, poem on the theme of any theme 19 lines no more or less.
your poem starts with a vowel then a consonant and keep all of your vowels in alphabetical order, so the pattern will be A con E con I con O con U con A con E con I con O con U and so-on until the last word ends in the vowel 'U' .
Please use more than two or three words per line...
The radiance of day withdrawn
An old moon a lamp up high;
A barn owl keeps still across the lawn
While orioles decide to fly.
Robins nestle for the night,
Sky paints a deep shade of blue
Even the gust falls with the light;
So we shall take our rest too.
Evening is a memory now
Secure in calm of dawn all right…
Lullabies are heard from each bough
In the glow of silver white.
Poem 202 Contest for Brian Strand
9/16/2016
How do we meet under a lover’s moon?
What does this moon look like?
Will it give me a lover?
Or will it send me on my bike?
Why be under a lover’s moon
Does it imbibe powers of prowess?
Of does it hide their shyness
If in a state of near undress.
A harvest moon a blue moon
A waning and a waxing one
A new moon an old moon
And yet only one precious sun.
People cast their seed
On the first full moon in spring
They say it gives the best crops
And that’s saying something.
There are dances in the moonlight
For those with nefarious thoughts
Bet they‘d get a fright
When lycanthropics, rampage and cavort
On the night the moon is full what a shock for all the lovers
A werewolf jumps on them, just as their delights each uncovers
So blue moon new moon, harvest moon of just full
Which is the lover’s moon so my dreams I can fulfil?
© ~GG~ 21/12/2012
Hello, old moon, my longtime friend
Here we are, just you and me.
As always, I am lifted up
Deep into your depths again
As if you watch my troubled world
And come each night to soothe my soul
Tonight I come to you again
To make our long acquaintance new
The world's off balance, I am too
Yet, you are steadfast, as a friend
In sorrow of my darkest hour
You warm my face like midnight sun
You comfort me and soon I know
I'll always have a place to come
You always seem to hear my pain
When no one else can understand
I know you well enough by now
A secret's safe in your good hands
Hello, old moon, my longtime friend
Here we are, just you and me.
As always, I am lifted up
Deep into your depths again
As if you watch my troubled world
And come each night to soothe my soul
________________________
4/23/13
It was a special time of life
With my children and my wife
In a tent among the trees
At a place called Camp Louise
Sitting around a campfire Friday night
And the big old moon was shining bright
Putting marshmallows on stick ends
Just sitting, talking with some friends
Telling stoories about an old black bear
Trying to give the kids a scare
The stars were shining high above
A time filled with laughter and with love.
With our energy all spent
We crawled into our tent
The bags were musty and the tent was damp
But we loved it there at family camp
In the morning right after daybreak
You could find us boating on the lake
As we moored the boat along the pier
Right behind the shed, we saw a deer
Two more days of playing in the sun
Fishing, hiking, having fun
Plenty of food and a campfire at night
For a few days a year, the world was right.
Those days are gone and our children grown
We wonder where the time has flown
But no matter how far apart we'll be
We will always have that memory.
Why does the ocean instantly appear
more beautiful when you admire its grace?
Why does the timid butterfly draw near
your hand, as you adore its wings' soft lace?
Why do those moments racing through the year
slow to a halt as you look in my eyes?
Why do my life's distractions disappear
when your warm hand and mine become allies?
When you gaze at the bright orb of the night
why does that old moon speed my heartbeat's thrum?
Why does the future no more speak of fright
as you, with optimism, bid it come?
'Tis myst'ry all, my love, that such as I
should be the one to ask these questions, "why?"
// for Janet, my lovely wife and soul mate for 36 years //
written 10 Oct 2020
Love is amorphous; it defies description.
Love is not an idea; it doesn't fit an ascription
Love fills our lives, the minute we are born.
As old moon fades and the new wraps her horn.
In your embraces, I have found refuge.
In the turbulent years before the deluge
To convince me, it only takes that one look.
That implies you're always near a fairy book.
As everything stops, your eyes speak to me.
My void was filled by love, and I feel full glee.
Your gaze tells me you'll adore me every day.
Whatever unfolds, you'll be there to see it by.
Sure enough, I've done some stuff in the past.
That feels so awful, even if my motives are cast
Experiencing them is an unbearable anguish.
Such a fate sets me that I exult as I languish.
You can't flee self; there's no place to hide.
It hurts deeply, it burns your soul and pride.
I cry, wishing you to kiss away my fears.
If you knew, I miss you to wipe my tears.
I know I can't run from myself or my fear.
And I know at such times I don't seem near.
What I feel for you is like blood in my veins.
That I dream of you despite all of the pain.
1st place contest winner
Written: April 30, 2023
Pick-A-Title, Vol 36 - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
Ugly Sue or Smelly Sue as the kids used to call her,
Lived in a cardboard box under the bridge at Fairfield.
Some said she was 100 years old and she had Leprosy.
When I was a kid the others used to dare each other.
You had to run up to Ugly Sue and pull her hair.
Any kid who wanted to make a name for himself would
run up to her and kiss her on the lips.
I remember watching how they treated Ugly Sue,
At the time I just wondered what she was really like.
As a teenager I started to see things differently.
I was in town to see a movie and I had to walk passed
Ugly Sueon the way.
She called out to me asking for money. I gave her
a few dollars and I don’t know why but I decided
to sit down next to her and talk.
“So Miss Suecan I talk to you ?” I said shyly.
She didn’t answer at first . She just light a cigarette
and smiled.
“ You gunna pull my hair. You little rascal?”
“No never.” I answered quickly.
She laughed and spoke again.
“You know kid. I’ve seen you before. Ya see I used
to be a School Teacher oh a while back.
I saw you when you was in Primary School.
Then later I noticed You were different.
You never teased me like them other kids did.
I got the ‘Frenia’. I lost my house and my husband left me.
Still the Sun shines on me like it always did.
That shiny old moon don’t tease me none. No sir.
We’ve had some long conversations over the years.
You know what I learned.
I learned that you got to be like a butterfly.
You got to keep movin’ an see beautiful flowers everywhere.
Don’t waste your time with teasing cause it ain’t good.
Just treat people with kindness and kindness will come back to you.”
She went back into her cardboard box and rested.
I didn’t go to the movies that day but
I think I learned something worthwhile for the first time in my life.
The weary and gloomy moon
Droops alongside confident mountains,
Tries to stay until noon.
Clings to the boundary, slipping down
Being hidden but not wanting to hide.
To time, old moon is bound.
A longing, endless.
Sad moon surrenders to the horizon, daylight lessens.
Less ends of light to grip; reject regress.
Dull moon falls west, sun rises east.
A longing, a chase endless.
The pursuit is a beast.
For the moon craves to collide
With the eternal flame it is infatuated with,
That’s why we see high tides.
The moon’s heart lies in the sea
Becoming swollen
Wanting the sun to see.
The moon, lonely,
Is in love with the sun.
Always has been, always will be.
06 March 2020
Title Chosen: A Lull
Contest: Pick-A-Title, Vol 14-Tristich
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
And silence is all, it reveals what the world keeps secret,
And she is the world, a universe in her eyes, an infinite vagabond.
"Whom have you loved before me?" I ask with a voice like the wind,
"What have you let take you, that I must envy in the silence of this hymn?"
Questions are like oceans, boundless in thought,
They make silence sing, revealing verses deeply sought.
Her eyes speak as butterflies take flight, gentle and free,
I don't know how butterflies take off, but I've seen them glide, in her eyes, I see.
I've seen her eyes; you know she's going home, you know she is home,
And without saying, I love that about her freedom, in her quiet realm, I roam.
"The horizon," she says, "Myself, water— any water, flowers, and nights, without regret,"
There are many versions of her sighing, but I'd savor one like a perfect burger, no jest.
It makes her smile without smiling, you know,
I believe a smile is a journey, a path to the soul.
She begins with her heart making silent hiccups, ending with a smile, a gentle chime,
With her ocean lips, I've been there, a kiss devoured by time.
And this is what I'll get used to, you can tell she's proud of her thoughts, pure,
And that is just, a woman must be proud, knowing her measure in silence, sure.
But I must keep the night rolling, like a full moon in the sky,
So I ask, "But now, what has changed? What dream did you let fly?"
I pretend not to count the heap of chaos she's let consume her,
And this time, she goes the rest of the journey, and still, she sighs in the world’s murmur.
Her smile is as sure as an old moon, a beacon in the night,
"You've become all of it. You've become everything, my light."
I look at the rising sun and say, 'Yes, that is him. That is the horizon,
My chaos, my light, my silence, my secret, my infinite horizon.'
The Santa Ana's are here, and the moon is clear.
There is a mystic in the air that whispers in my ear.
Is this a peaceful feeling or does it carry fear ?
What is the passion and hot fragrence of orange blossom that is pulling me a different way , as if this power has been sent only by a Witch of the finest of White Magic, only to calm the Blue Soul I have known my whole life.
I feel a passion that is running through my Veins like the power of water itself .
As if the Moon itself were instructed to warm the air that is blowing . It is not a new moon , it is not a old moon , it is a moon that appears only in ones lifetime to gaze at .
By seeing and feeling the very power of this Moon you will dance your way to Heaven with happiness of what is yet to come.
The Stars around this Moon are unique as if they take the presence of every loved one you and I have lost .
The Witches winds with the warm glowing of the moon, as if I had never met you before , are blowing with the frangerence of Orange Blossom or Magnolia , from a distant past of The South.
As if I know we have been together once before , a Moon such as this . In a peaceful , lustful state of Bliss.
There is something coming .. is it something I have always known or wanted ?
What is yet to be known is as intoxicating as the Santa anas that are running through my body.
As if i have been struck by the power of light , as the powerful moon I gaze at in the Night.
It is piercing my soul with it's only Truth,
By;
Shanity Rain
Sledding times past
Linger into view
An adaptation,
A graduation,
Newness of goals foreseen,
"Two day old moon,
Tell of a journey's end,
Listen also if you May
I'll tell of odious ramblings..."
NEW MOON RISING
Arise the splendid evening of the ancient moon.
It comes to hold a limpid crescent in it's arms.
Then delicately sails within the hot night's song,
and rides a wave it found in June's neglected tunes.
A brilliant shard to witness two metallic orbs,
that shyly flirt in symphonies of cosmic light.
That Jupiter and Venus will dance a pas de deux,
and the new moon rising accompanies their flight.
Glimpse a cheshire grin upon the moon to smile at Earth,
And to hold two planets in its withered smirk.
Then to pass beneath their fated rendezvous,
and expose their secret lair from hiding there .
If crescent arms can hold an old moon taut and high,
Then cheek to cheek let Venus waltz with god of sky.
-Edlynn Nau
June 18, 2015
My truck is so old…
When I buy gas, I get a free Flintstone glass.
So old that mold has my truck growing on it.
So old that when I bought it used I found Betty White`s prom dress under
the seat.
So old pot holes cover up when they see me coming.
So old, all it`s parts have "if found," return address labels.
So old my seatbelt is my Mother`s right arm.
So old Moon river`s the only song on the radio.
So old it has a Nixon/Agnew bumper sticker.
My truck is so old that when I go in for an inspection, I have to come back
the next day... After they`ve stopped laughing.