Long Mooned Poems
Long Mooned Poems. Below are the most popular long Mooned by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Mooned poems by poem length and keyword.
There once was a girl named Snow White,
Of a poisoned apple she took a bite.
Seven dwarves found her sleeping,
And they began weeping.
Who would fix their supper tonight?
Only one thing could save this fair miss,
A prince must give her a kiss.
There was no time to waste,
So the dwarves they made haste,
To find a prince for their miss.
A prince showed up the next day,
And the dwarves they did not delay.
They showed him Snow White,
Told him of her plight,
Then said, "Kiss her, then be on your way."
The prince gazed down on her face,
And his heart started to race.
What a beautiful maid,
Yes, she must be saved!
To refuse would be a disgrace.
He bent and kissed her awake.
One kiss was all it did take.
They stared at each other,
The dwarves said, "Oh brother!"
"We may have made a mistake."
To the prince they said, "Listen here!"
"We want to be perfectly clear."
"Snow White belongs to us,
So don't raise a fuss,
Or you'll get a swift kick in the rear!"
Snow White was quick to object.
"Now boys, let's show some respect.
The prince saved my life,
And I'll gladly be his wife.
What else could you possibly expect?"
The prince said, "Hey, don't worry guys.
You won't have to say your good-byes.
You can live in the castle,
It won't be a hassle.
Cross my heart, I'm telling no lies."
So Snow White and her prince tied the knot,
And they honey-mooned on a great yacht.
The dwarves stayed behind
And at the castle they dined.
All in all they were pleased with their lot.
The place where i once dewelled,
The place where my mother and father honey mooned,
the place where i was created,
the place where i now face hardships.
the place now where i only see and visit graves of those i have lost.
the place where i have dreamed many dreams.
Now the place i will never see.
Please people in Italy dream big dreams for me.
Even though I am afraid of what those dreams might be.
I know one day I have to face my destiny,
But I am afraid of what I might become and what I might bring,
upon myself.
so i have to stay out of the rain,
and thank mother earth
that i have not become,
insane.
Shimmering over a glassy sea, a moonlight carpet beams.
My walkway high to a starlit sky of memories from my dreams.
There mighty Taurus, rip-snortin’ bull, lowers his horns for battle.
Naked on his shoulders Seven Sisters ride side-saddle.
Dazzling diamonds, blue-white ice,
blazing through nebulosity.
Merope mocked and mooned me twice,
twerking with faux ferocity.
“Begone now, mortal, from my sight,
who dares defile the very night.
Look down upon the moonlit glade,
bear witness to the mayhem made.”
Agape, the Pleiad sisters wailed while yonder Cetus spouted.
“The culprit must be caught and jailed,” the rueful Virgo shouted.
The heavens heaved, so much offended,
torn fabric of time could not be mended.
Then darkness fell like a clap of thunder,
were it not for Einstein’s Biggest Blunder,
the Universe was blown asunder.
Who once wrote “God plays not with dice,”
had not known anything of such vice,
said: “Reading erotic poetry can’t compete with cosmic knowitry.”
Submitted: 6/2/2019
the sun is mean here
it’s too bright
and i don’t mean smart
it shines in my eyes
i have to wear dark glasses just to drive
yesterday it burned my skin
but today i am ready
i’m wearing lotion
spf one thousand
if that doesn’t work
i’m wearing my long underwear
of course the sun will make me sweat
it is a nasty vengeful sun
i’ll be all wet
i am going to wear it down
that’s the wrong spelling of wear isn’t it?
with all this heat i can’t think
sun stroke maybe
i'm fed up i am going to get rid of it
i'll look mean
scare it down
i'll make it go away
oh my goodness
it’s working finally
the sun is leaving
the sun is gone
hurray
oh no
i can't believe it
look
the sun
it just mooned me.
The Chance Given
T ~ here then and forever after since they touched the miracle of love and
H ~ ope when her heart and soul crossed his path out of nowhere as passionate
E ~ ssence in miraculous wonderment sealed a union beyond the wildest dreams
C ~ hange they did and for the better when her moon scooped his spoon
H ~ is poetry and hers thus theirs conjoined mooned scoops in steady flow
A ~ nticipation certainty absolved it’s wicked suicidal darkness revolted into
N ~ ights enlightened days and moments paused in bliss from stagnant gloom
C ~ aressed and feathered by the Universe’s shine and guidance seemingly
E ~ ternal infinite impermanent however yet so real ever so trusting truthfully
G ~ iven taken regardless whether co-incidence God-incidence pure chance
I ~ gnited compassion’s kindness loving change and meaning they solemnly
V ~ owed to exchange the void so previously endowed with loneliness and to
E ~ scape their shadows elope together sneak away and towards together
N ~ ever in a million moments to be scared and scarred again and happy
25th October 2016
Who were you today,
at your best moments?
Grouchy hermit
already missing quality dream times
and rhythms
when chimes greet pre-light's crust frosty dawn,
to get Yang, then Yin, up and out of our sangha,
ready to enter their own daytime sanghas,
tired drama of such anciently perennial retired,
repeat,
reiterate,
Monday through Friday.
Notice
red coal scale patterns
in blackened ash logs,
burning to fluffy carbon chalk,
nutrient potential for some soils,
although not mine,
perhaps my neighbor's?
Joy
for a bright, although admittedly too intermittent, sun,
sliding in and out of hiding.
A smile,
where one would otherwise have been sadly absent.
Cold
feeling Arctic on my ears and neck
and nose
and onward through
toward my aching bone marrow,
near my well-heated
and brightly lit
domestic non-destination.
Ellen Fisher on NPR saying
"No one gets out of love alive."
with so much enthusiasm and passion
for regenerative feelings and empathic maturing capacity
to manage anger's ego-offense
with a strong remembering love's co-opportunity defense
against high risk anthro-entitled,
narcissistic ego-bratty behavior.
Gratitude
for Yin political and economic cooperative investments
seeking Earth harmonic balance.
Terror
of untimely taxing rest as grace,
of older-wiser intent
without time to hear Earth's glamorous response,
to new found mutually speaking freely parts
and songs of dancing glances
Eagerly lifting
blue tarp skirt
of my elegantly stacked woodpile,
seducing me with more hard fuel
for erotic clandestine fires.
Feeling PoisonYang feeding on my trinitarian blind
and bald spot,
sucking in any embodied nutrients she might hope to find
within such great grand fatherly care,
laughing together
at just how silly we appear
even to our wu-wei selves,
together better
than apart
Still mind embodied fullness
content contention in this narrow midway
modestly chasing Gods of True Love reborn
Resisting insisting
long-married Gods and Goddesses of Angry Past Deductions
fueling Fear of Future's Inductive Reduction
dualdark disfunction
Confluent inhumane demise
sinking unease
singing ease
to full mooned
yin-hibernating
yang-hypernation
waning waxing sways.
I feel as though I am lingering in the shadows of life, and whatever it is that plagues me. A mystery, unfounded within the confines of this body and mind now possess my every thought. I hold my hands towards the shadows wondering if it could be death's hand grasping for mine, waiting to take me through another life. A life beyond my comprehension.
I see stars, not of night, but of confusion and the grasp of reality as it sets upon me like sun at dusk. I am flushed the same shade of crimson beneath the surface of this pale-mooned skin. My appearance as gloomy as a spring morning, yet the morning clears more frequently than me.
I feel my heart, not beating on a normal path, but pounding, as if it's trying to escape without me. It speaks to me in a faint whisper by daybreak, yet I have no answers.
My hands are held above me in desperation and despair alike, as I feed myself several little pieces of bottled hope. I sigh within my frown, not knowing if it's a new beginning or quick end, but I edge on, lurking in the shadows, still feeling ill.
"One's destination is never a place but rather a new way of looking at things" Henry Miller
out
amid the blanketing
eclipsed
along pas(t)sed
appeared in her gloaming
a ne'r nether
of nighttime sky
searched by starlight
mooned
where no beginnings
nor any ends
beheld
bathing in a
darkness of time
solemn I stare
where footfalls fell
in patterns of three
as if dancing
in a never ending breeze
a ballerina
light as the snowflakes
melted on the tips of tongues
to go back to when we were young
what verses would be sung
would we do it all again
I traipse my weary feet
across the valley of your dreams
a spruce of blue
looking only in the shadow
of you
an emerald of peace
cut to precision
adorned at the nape
of her echoes
far
but not out of reach
Moonstruck
Many moons and seasons ago my five children
inquired where I was heading to on my journey
I replied ‘to the moon’ and to how to get there
‘with a ladder’ to astonished faithful suspense
Turned downsize up and ascending again and
once more over and above I should get there
so I took them along flights of innocent fancy and
smiled when they suggested a ladder from heaven
Then darkness descended in lunar concealment
little did I know do I know now for certain how
the fairy tell princess came to savour the pathway
Time place and place-time ventured departed
into vortexes of void switched on in the clouds
Somehow and only the Universe holds answers
my soulmate and lover emerged into the rays
‘I would fetch you the moon on a spoon if I could’
and she ladled lunar surprise to my orb of the night
Soul minds physical spirits union beginnings sprung
into the fore pushing and pulling mounting the stage
Spoons fetched celebrations of life passion wilderness
oceans overflowed wetlands of love and a lighthouse’s
coloured glass windows went embracing the rungs
Since those moons struck together just the sky was the
limit still plenty of riptides spring floods torrents abound
and whirlpools droughts desertification flickering lights
breathing shadows unfolding distant horizons untold but
The pushing and pulling oases spinning spoons
mooning spoons spooned mooned up together
lick orbital salts crack creviced valleys of life while
the moon struck home onto love and compassion
Many moons and seasons ago my children knew
of my journey much better than I and raised in
their question the meaning of life at the crossroad
and it does not matter how they knew that ladders can fly
17th July 2016
Written many moons again by the Universe and still writing all over, above and beyond...
He put his hand on my butt, at my age
Maybe I should have mooned him full of rage
'Twould be nothing like the act, he'd set stage
The eclipsed moon awed, let me give applaud
Spiritual thing broad, now staring unflawed
The eclipse was beautiful that long night
Years ago, when Luna flower bloomed white
As observed from my small place near the bight
Sad state of affairs, when man touched backstairs
With Him pain she shares, looks at moon upstairs
Hand on my behind at my old, old age
Left me distressed and somewhat confused, awed
Years pass, I don't cry during the dark night
Time has healed; talking with the Man upstairs