There you are exposed to the lick of a big tongue
Even though you are a soft green which is beautiful
Away you go on your journey to another country
So much farther than you could go in real life
Maybe Luna Moth Stamp you will end up in
Paris, France or The Neverlands
Made from a high-resolution digital print
By the artist, Joseph Scheer
Such softness to the design
Soft brown, sunshine yellow
In a gentle curved style
I'm reminded of the morn when one lay dead on drive
Captured in print you can live on and on
Travel the world and maybe someday
Space travel will complete your journey
Or you might get stuck in a scrapbook
Luna Moth USPS Stamp life has much in store
attracted to light
landing on my porch
delighting faeries
not a damselfly
not a firefly
from the near woods
child of the night
a dainty wisp
just visiting
something lithe
something light
mystical
pea green
luna
moth
Luna beckon's a siren's song
To reach the crescent moon,
she awakens before the water serpents arise,
and sea merchants sailing in from shores nearby
At crack of dawn and drawn to flickering lights,
night's natator of the bluest sea
zigzag's through the starfish
Caught in a seaweed beaded necklace,
tangled in nets sailors left adrift,
she reaches the open prismatic sky
A rainbow parrot fish tail flips over
smoothed sea glass rock
A siren goddess appears
Multicolored moments, eyes dilate
as indigo hues glow—it blankets
in silhouettes upon flowing strands of hair
Embracing the early morn with a sigh,
mystified mermaid from deep underwater
her thumping heart beats calm, in sync
with the crashing wave as it trickles down
A phenomenal crescent moon luminescent
As a cool salty wash laps the rocky shore,
it recedes with sizzling sounds leaving
pocket holes in the wet sand
Dawn calls with haunting cries,
she sings a siren's song
moon-spirit mettles
sun and earth orientate ~
sun kissed and moonstruck
The Lady of the Night
Alone, Luna dominates the sky,
glowing from Sol’s reflected light.
Her mares, dark blotches set
against the white light.
She is the queen of the night sky,
full face proudly displayed.
Strange things are said to happen
when she rides her chariot across the sky.
Wolves utter
lonesome cries.
Cursed individuals take the
form of the werewolf.
Humans go stark raving
mad.
We have physically touched her face
six times.
We have found her to be a harsh mistress
with no room for error.
She attracts our attention like no
other night figure.
We will return, she is that gilded
lady that beckons us.
We cannot stay away.
To the moon above
On mission of grand conquest
Men in lunar launch
Defining moment
In “One giant leap for mankind”
Prints in lunar dust
Stars and Stripes planted
The flag flies but does not wave
In moon’s atmosphere
In that adventure
Proud men and women served
I was among them
Soon many giant steps
Were made on terra firma
To visit again
Time has written much
Since the day of that landing
About ships in space
To the realm of stars
Will mankind rise to the task
Peace in hostile space
In a forest of clouds, and a handful of snow, the sun glitters,
encompassed by the stars above, flattered by the adoring humans,
glorifying the spectacle of moon's shadow.
How warm is the light of the lunar night!
Only the choir of wintery winds flapping its wings.
From the first time she sees light
the world is flashy light.
Happiness is now a fertile field.
Huge crowd of hummingbirds flock the horizon
praising her arrival.
I repeat their songs of ecstatic flare,
this heavenly bless
Praise be to God and the angels.
It is enough to raise our hands
to the altar of faith.
I want a drunk moon
one entirely at home
in a glass of golden wine.
Let evil be forever sober,
wine hydrates reality,
a dead moon bloom's
in small cups of tipsy poetry.
I want to rest my eyes
in a winding river of moonlight,
let the madmen thunder and rail,
my peace booms above
their loudest shouts.
I used to be a tomcat,
I made love to my animal nature,
I used to spit at the moon,
that grey orb so utterly buried
under trash heaps of saccharine lyrics.
Now I am drunk,
for love drinks me down.
Within the velvet closets
of moonlit nights
love comes to me,
then we drink,
to all the easeful drunks,
here on the rim and lip
of paradise.
I didn’t notice much change, but now
the birds begin to sing…the music
breaks through…it is okay once more.
The ancients must have thought so.
I wonder of the animals in the zoo,
the scientists rubbing their palms.
I noticed when it seemed a minor dim,
hardly noticeable. Didn’t have glasses
to join the din, so opened the shades.
Now, seems a bit brighter. Hoping
the world sees it the same. A bit
brighter, a hopeful tomorrow.
O Luna! O Soleil!
Slay me…but save my eyes.
The night and day meet,
out in the open they meet,
and the worshippers gather,
but I
hold out for the Creator, my hands
as if holding an infant,
arise.
It is sunrise, yet not.
It was sunset, but not.
Sooner comes the Lord,
ready or not…
aye …
indeed ...
dangle your dreamy toes, darlin'
we sit the moon as whimsy -
a shimmery sea of suns to tickle our feet
while we nuzzle noses
your hair is rainbow tinsel -
eyes, a wild maelstrom of wonder
twirling into those plum bows
that glisten for a kiss …
the gleaming gossamer tapestry
spun with your smile
to melt my mad midnight melancholy
and drizzle upon the twilight
it's whisper of the morn
aye …
indeed.
(rewrite)
What a lovely
goddess is
La Luna.
With the wiles
of a woman,
she changes
again and again,
yet she continues
to rule the nights
steadfastly.
Like oceans' tides.
we beneath night skies
feel pulled by her
mysteriously.
You beguile us,
La Luna.
How many artists
have you inspired?
How many lovers
have been seduced
beneath your gaze?
Poets evermore
will praise
your glowing grace.
Luna Maura arose unexpectedly, unbidden
In the midst of the lake of the waterfall
We recognized the power of this water faerie
Legend had predicted her for thousands of years
When I open my mouth
Bats emerge
or worse, or better
What more can be said
How much more to know
To share, to oversimplify
Borders, places
That feel familiar, but not
My story
My language, my beliefs
But not my place
The stories that
Illustrate
Castigate
And just wander
In normal conversations
Ordinary paradoxes
Of those who are
Asking for help
Looking for
Dignity
Place
Something ordinary
blueberry hued moon
lullaby on stardust waves -
solaces embrace
all the lighting dimmed
cryptic fairies azure blue -
audacious staging
The measure of immensity
is a small step,
just a footfall
snagged by a tufted hole
in the space-time fabric.
The way you fall is the way
you get out of your bed
when the day is already too bright.
All things fall upwards
from the empty seed.
The vastness of insignificance
needs a Dollar Store magnifying glass,
anything more expensive
would only distort perception yet more.
Ant hills climb up themselves’
perception is a rope trick.
There is no such thing
as a summer or winter moon
yet we all know there is.
The infinitesimal cannot be reckoned,
but we feel it crawling,
sense its self-propelled intelligence
re-wiring our brains.
A bloody nose drips on a moon rock
a rock someone had forgotten
to bring back.
Space, like memory,
is full of potholes.
Beyond the mushroom cap,
mind-spores sporadically fail
to make clear connections -
the immensity of what we then miss
returns to space dust
dust we leave boot-prints upon
as we once again
trip over ourselves.
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