Best Waxing Poems
The Moon is almost...
Sullen skies forewarn the frozen shroud.
Gale November winds sway bare limbed
trees, whistling in chorus with arrows of
Geese straining to steer south.
The familiar sound of the revolving lead
Goose never wavers, but for tonight.
A strange howl emanates from the current
commander, abandoning the customary
bugling, not elongated; like a hound dogs
lament, but crisp & short, a howl.
Alarm bells ring in the memory recall of my
dna...built-in decipher mechanisms fail,
all of this happening in split-seconds.
What prompted this auditory change?
what does this alternate sound signal?
As quick as I heard it this twilight fall
evening, the Geese passed, the course they
were set upon unknown, circumstances
they encountered, not of my world,
the only sure thing,
is wonder.
12/01/17
It seems you are not taxed enough
But the government knows what to do
and even though the times are tough
The state needs revenue.
We'll bring to law, a knowledge tax
On each concept that you grasp
And then put forth an oxygen tax
For every breath you gasp
I envision a lucrative walking tax
From jaunt to slow meander
I see a tax on every scent
from garbage to fresh oleander
A blinking tax would open your eyes
and surely allow you to see
That people love paying taxes
Except for taxes on tea.
Ask you men do ye yet ken still acting in the right?
Of better days and other ways
We faced each day and night
Whispered secrets of delight enchanted dreams of youth
Wisps of withered warps of worth
Without the ring of truth
Who owns it now? that treasured gem
That gleam of treasure lost
Is it yet hid from those and them
Who cannot weigh the cost
In years and weeks and days of time
In buckets flagons tuns
Will yet they whisper scheme, design
To take away our guns?
Mistake me not in normal ken
Who work for daily bread
Beware of theses dogooding men
Who preach of kids in need
Who speak of lofty aims and goals
and live in constant greed
The Welfare State
That Land of Hate
That spills of wants and needs
is grasping like a drowning man In water clogged with weeds
and as he pulls the worker down he brags of his good deeds
We know how much this action costs
In trillions of papered debt
But ask can we consider toll on souls of fools who bet
On future lives of yet un born to pay for all they steal
They'll pay you say in other ways in other days
Who counts? who weighs?
The cost
Of lost?
waxing crescent moon
peck kissed by the golden star
in the Sunday night
4-10-2016
There's a waxing crescent moon tonight;
My grandson spied it first.
He pointed skyward with such glee
You'd think he'd been rehearsed.
Of course he didn't have the words
(He's nineteen months of age),
But show him once and sure enough,
His interest you'll engage.
He didn't know the waxing part
But many grown-ups, too,
If asked about the wax and wane
Won't have the slightest clue.
The moon suspended in the sky
Is really quite amazing
But unlike Henry, most folks never
Take the time for gazing.
Having been lacking hearing since childhood
not completely but without it in full
remember Xrays at six showing irregularity
but nothing could be done where I stood
Only partial deaf on my right side
which was to my detriment to learn
but left school at 15, to be at work
so was still able to work and earn
So many years later hearing grew worse
then got hearing aids from National Health
at first, was helpful but never great
as wax in the eardrum was a real curse
Syringe my ears were now required
as the wax filled my ears so much
but the hearing was very inconsistent
as drastic action now being retired
Now I paid private and went digital
waxing lyrically with my sound
what a difference3 that was made
as I hear words clearly now I've found
So the lesson learned is don't give up
even when you think it will fail
maybe there's something around the corner
to release you from your deaf jail
My soul waxes and wanes with the moon
But it is never truly full
And when I see that glowing orb in the sky
I wish that I could feel its pale light
But I am always left in shadow
I am only a reflection of a once full person
Like the moon is reflection of the sun’s light
On the other side of the world
I mimic my old self every day
In hopes that one day I will be that girl again
My soul waxes and wanes with the moon
But someday it will rise with the sun.
Beautify here beautify there
Beautify here and everywhere
I luv my wax I'm no intrudah
Man I luv my cute bermuda
I think it's really kinda hip
Man I luv my landing strip
The only wax I cannot hack
Is the dreaded wax
Back sack and crack...
The amazing way we came to know
We each had some place else to go
where eternal sparks of passion’s fire
too hot to quench with earthly flesh
We understood our wants and needs
Taking eternity into account
never crossed our minds
when we evaluated our lives
We now step back and evaluate
our relationships
our accomplishments
and believe in our choices
We live a life our parents
could not even imagine
but the one thing they taught us
still holds true... the children are the most important thing.
rlm '08
O
Heat!
Discord!
My mind splayed
As un-private pools
Drifting full of littered life bits
Turned upward toward the sun, to develop naturally
Then evaporating back into my head as new thoughts, waiting for a finer point.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
entered in Matt Caliri's Contest "The Contest of New Terrains"
Gaping open raw war exhales vapors
In the frigid gray stillness excavating
My souls for the unseen harvest
Reflected in the leaves desiccating
Through walls of fogs pale faces stare
And disappear like a random shiver
Like a slick violin string vibrating sad
-ness like a portent of a sickness open
-ing shaking thoughts of unknown frontiers
Full of four-dimensional forests and coasts
Where skeletons recite rhapsodies ravenously
Waving flags of unjust defunct empires wildly
In the encrusted fear demons lend severed gospels
Like laughing children without love keeping records
Of my actions and their forgotten complexions
Waning in the humid cold touch of misgivings
But the voice warbles without ceasing warnings
Releasing doves bleeding as they fall asleep
Descending into a valley where darkness shines
Limbs of unrequited hope desperately lunge
For the throat emanating light salvation
Indiscriminately reaping and sowing dreams
Seeming real as wounds which never heal
As flies hatch treasonous larva in the gash
And a new century is born and scorned
Now and forever have arrived starved
Demanding blood on the altar of profusion
Crying in concrete homes hallowing illusion
Until the last angel breaks illumination...
Waxing Lyrical
‘Tis true
Thou arte more fair than this high ridden morn
More enamoured of you ‘pon a suns corona
This heart beating is
And with mirth does it rise
Its resuscitation on a break-ed light
Bandies nought with shade
But cavorts thus on a mysteries wing
Flight of angels thou do become
By prescience more
And yea, shall I walk ‘neath a palladiums light
Twas seared in mine soul
Of her
No more fortune than this my soul desireth
‘Tis Ma’Lady
As she steeped ‘ont the lilly
Her pale foot stepped ‘pon penumbras edge
Trod she so, with delicate
And cast thus into this heart
And I betwixed eclipse
More enamoured of her than ‘pon the suns corona
This beating heart is
O Icarus, young Icarus flying so high,
As an eagle, in the sunny blue sky, rising.
Waxing strongly in his vigorous youth, so bold;
Fearless, he failed to hear his fine father’s sure truth.
Alas too late he learned his fate, clearly seen
As he plunged into the oblivious sea.
His aged father wept at his cruel, melting fall
Nearby, strangers never saw Icarus’ demise.
So much for feathery constructions wrought with wax
Young Icarus, was lax, dearly paying his tab.
Gurgling in dark white shark infested depths he drowned
No marble slab would ever grace his stubborn head.
Date:10/19/2019
Title: Icarus Falling
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
I cannot see the moon.
(but I know she’s there.)
I can’t see you, either.
A waxing crescent flashes a glinting smile at me
Through the fountain, after sunset
Pleased to see me; I surmise it wants my wish granted
A waxing crescent flashes a glinting smile at me
Happy moon, fleetingly disfigured by the coin I tossed in
It's smile steadies again when the ripples fade into stillness
A waxing crescent flashes a glinting smile at me
Through the fountain, after sunset
Submitted for...
Strand Choice F,Any Form,Any Theme Poetry Contest (Winner: Honorable Mention)
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
Date written: 03/13/2020
Moon Poetry Contest/Winner(8th Place)
Sponsored by: Kevin Shaw
Date written and posted: 06/12/2018