Autumn's many colorful moons seen through the lens of a camera,
I see beauty and color everywhere.
As a child,
I did not know there was a harvest moon.
I loved watching the full autumn moon,
as it seemed to change colors.
Autumn's many colorful moons seen through the lens of a camera,
have changed over the years.
What has made this change?
The huge night clear sky is not as clear as it once was,
the full bright moon is not as bright.
Do we see the change year after year?
Do we even care?
I weep for the beauty of olden Autumn days,
a more peaceful time.
A bright full moon and clear night's sky,
that was once seen through the lens of a camera.
There was a moon over Paris—at noon
misplaced in space?
Awakened too soon?
noon moon,
I saw you floating alone
without a cloud in the sky
without a night of your own
And with the moon flying high above me
like cloud made of magical stone
I felt a wish I made celestially
might save me from being alone
noon moon,
I long for someone to care for
some one that I could be there for
someone to call all my own
.
.
Songs for this:
Blue Moon (feat. vGumiho) by Derivakat
Blue Moon by The Mavericks
golden gift of morning
emerald jewels of afternoon
mint of evening moons
Paper moons drift through the night,
their glow a folded kind of light.
They gather dreams in silhouettes of white~
and the sky hums under paper moons.
Wind lifts their edges with tender sighs,
sending my wishes wandering the sky.
Each quiet hope rises and flies~
and the sky hums under paper moons.
Shadows are softened by their amber glow,
the night remembering to dream.
The stars pause in their silver scheme~
and the sky hums under paper moons.
Like moons, us two gleam
Teardrops on shattered glass~
You burn my skin like embers
But pull me back so quickly
Into your orbit, my gaze is fixed
Taste caramelized, sweet as candy apple
Touch leaving frostbite on my hands
The next melts it into two rivers
Personality stripped to pureness
No skin left to protect it
When judgement day begins its wrath
You'll sit crowned in layers of pearls
And while we fall to each other's pull
Gravity pulls your mind against mine
Your thirst and yearning fades to dust
Only the second moon melts your tundra heart~
A poet I am,
A writer I be.
With my epilepsy,
I see what cannot be.
I am not better—
I am different.
The me I be
is love, to empower.
Know yourself.
Embrace your me.
Two moons bound in gold,
A diamond sun, set and sold.
Imperfect perfection
within the perfection
of the universe.
Passing cloud caught up in moons glow
The dusky skyline blends
the azurin expanse
Dusted blushing clouds,
mauve moon’s brush across in radiance
over a star-studded labyrinth
A jeweler’s den
A syntheses surge
A revolving musical menagerie
Soulful eyes reflect
a thousand diamonds in the sky,
captivating cosmically
You found my light amongst
the ambiguous
luminiferous aether
Pure elixir of wizardy poured
on its rivers and springs
Velvet skin carbon spun
bodies of water sway
in sync across
acoustic wave mazes,
twinkling harmonies
in embellished realms
A stardust serenade,
swarms of sonatas
shape Lidström’s lullaby
Along stratus symphonies
I slumber under the starry cluster
enraptured in its turbulent chimes,
...sequestered
Where tears rolled down Signal Hill
there rivulets formed Shadow
following twin’s auburn will ~
through blue moons and red, Mars stared
as Shadow birthed mottled mares
now she rolls back citrus flares
onto face, blemishes dare !
_______________________
Contest : Seven by Seven
Sponsor : Nette Onclaud
Jan.26. Placing : 3rd : Standard Contest
THE SON IS LOVE, AND WE’RE HIS MOONS
Sooner or later,
If not before,
We all will come
To realize, God’s love
Is not a thing,
But a living spirit:
His shared gift
Of self,
Being His Son’s
Resurrection:-
What God gives
And shares
Can never
Be lost
Or taken away:-
His love is eternal,
And likewise,
Is its supremeness:
The womb of the universe,
And its Milky Way of life:-
In light,
There is no darkness.
In darkness,
There’ll always be light:
Wherever the sun shines,
It leaves behind its moon:-
God’s Son is love
And He’s chosen us,
To be His shining moons,
Ever waxing
In labors
Of His
Supreme love:-
Howling at full moons
behind empty branches
in full view of empty tombs
of ancestors in full bloom
Slide your elflocks to the side
while I feed eldritch butterflies
the honey wine that made man divine,
lei guardato il gattopardo’s disguise
*
Rapt cranberry wrapping callipygian peaches,
entrancing crenellations, pergola features
I couldn’t leave you, my favorite weakness
When magenta sunsets broke
across your cello silhouette,
you signed your life to me
Echo of distant cries,
quadruped steps deepening into dusk—
wind folding the earth’s breath.
Craftsman of the spider web,
seas of lightning possessing the sky.
Guardian of the other side,
conceiver of comings and goings,
I will meet you soon—
after the waning of many moons,
God-willing—I will meet you soon!
Til then
you will wait—
til the fateful rain washes the earth,
til the sky weeps every secret.
You will wait
as the mountain lion sleeplessly
soaks up the storms to
keep her last babe dry.
There once was a girl from the south
Who had a hard time with her mouth
Boy with same issue said, (S)"poon!"
She said, "Not poon! We say, "poon!"
Correcting his speech without doubt.
To thin girl we constantly had to say,
"Pull up your pants, the moon shines not in day!"
She noticed my shirt, cut low...
"Mrs.Crystol! Your buttcrack shows!"
Sure enough, too much cleavage on display!
Inner Tides and Outer Moons
Just like Earth and her moon
Our own body-mind fluxes
With and within the cycle of tides.
Up-down, strong-weak, high-low
We swell and contract in a rhythm
That effects if not controls us all.
Maybe it’s even what makes us care
About others and what others think of us
Since without the flux
We’d be more consistent
And so more confident, less needy
And thus more independent.
But at a certain point,
Maybe what we call mid-life
We should have learned that no matter
The flux is ours and not up to others
To verify, confirm or even acknowledge
Who we are, our successes and failures.
A body-mind in flux
After all is a mystery
In the process of becoming
But after at least fifty years of becoming
We should have become familiar enough
To know what is and what’s ahead.
At least to know
That there will always be
Change and more change,
And that the key to a mature
If not always happy body-mind
Is a measure of self reliance.
(3/23/25)
I've been to the well
Too often to tell
The sky from a spell
Of ice salted dunes
Of threadbare cocoons
If there's a contrast
From future to past
The light sees it last
I breathe the allure
Of spaces obscure
Of nights darkly pure
Who else can I be
If I am not me
To straddle the sea
And follow the moon's
Melancholy tunes
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