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
Back when sex was dirty
and the water was clean
Two plus two equaled four
and things were what they seemed
Back when men were men
and women would swoon
Each day a new promise
— fulfilled at high noon
(The New Room: August, 2026)
A deep, delicious ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ earth and sky --
A gracious ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ wakening,
The morn has been ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ restless ¦¦¦¦¦
In which the pulse ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ran ¦¦¦ high
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ its heart went nigh
¦¦¦ bursting with delights ¦¦¦¦ uttering:
Now--as an o'erjoyed child ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦
All falteringly at play, ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦
¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ pictures of a fairy-tale
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ dreams ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ comes o'er the day
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ silence wherein all sounds fail
¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ sounds of some roundelay . . .
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ effort ¦¦¦¦¦¦ may avail --
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ the dozer sinks away.
(Blackout of A Noon Interval by James Whitcomb Riley)
Aridisol
-----------------------
-----------------------
Human emotion
the exploration of
a
the underlain
topsoils of
clayey deposits
a camera merley captures it's sight
loamy the interconnectedness
beneath our feet
perfection in human sight
the depths of the alluvial outwash
pretty in every measure
quarts agate and gems
the treasures of a cobbled assortment
the perfections I marveled at the
crown jewel of the bunch
meditating on the dirt beneath our feet
---------------------------------------------
Uhm, uh, ooh, auh, ooh
and Mmmmm,auh,ooh!
her sandles were full of clay and sand
she sat to enjoy agave edible flowers and stalks
---------------------------------------------
Shadows tightly folded
into the hour of noon.
Clock hands clasp
and time stands as the stork does:
unmoving and going nowhere.
Venerable old men,
anchored on park benches,
idly stare in hagioscopic squints
at panting patrons
of sidewalk cafes.
A fly buzzes,
decelerates,
comes to rest…
The dog twitches,
unhitches the fly,
stretches under the table.
Another glass of wine sedates thirst
in warm sips.
A waiter trips.
The dog growls.
Time unclasps its warm greeting.
The stork repairs its stance.
The old men look the other way.
Shadows begin to unfold slowly.
And, as the last chime of twelve
hangs in the air,
only the waiters rush about
like buzzing flies.
(Premier Trophy Win)
Sometimes I feel like howling at the moon
Sleeping till noon
Days go by
Seems like they fly
Going so fast
Time never seems to last
From day one the die is cast
Trying to make my way
Making the most out of each day
Walked so far
Trying to reach my star
Maybe one day or another
With a little help from my brother
I will reach that light
Weary from the fight
Stand up straight
Sorry I'm a little late
But that's fate
I made it through the gate
Made to the end of the line
Feeling fine
Little used
Abused
But here I stand
In the promised land
At lunch, she cried, NAOMI SEX AT NOON TAXES, I MOAN,
The cat sneered and tipped over a cone,
MADAM IN EDEN, I'M ADAM,
He juggled a fig and a radish,
Then fled with a grin, leaving none alone.
Confined in a dark place
Cathedral's His love?
And this, flooding, from above
Now brightens a face?
Do or die got to perform in the eye of the storm
Noise from the boys remember we did deport
Another loss 3 nought a new boss will be sought
The depravity of gravity the reality of this sport
Big Ben’s men finally hold court our Last Resort
Insult beaten twice has the Bazball loon cult lost its spice
Starc’s legend hewn from chumps stumps in clumps strewn
Shredded in the dreaded Ashes vice Last Throw of the Dice
Bogged down in a twit pit will be flogged if we just slog
Stokes spoke about going for broke showing a bit of dog
Aussie boon.. Over the Moon In the Clover lagoon
The Barmy Army will still croon their afternoon tune
As another buffoon’s marooned OZ media swoon
Sucking on their silver spoon our Last Chance Saloon
Last ditch on the pitch must bewitch this is High Noon
noon moon~
placid pale …
dull white —-
sad shy \
on sunny sky__
flowers bloom
the noon sun brightens
their petals
.
it rain'd last night
wet
soak'd
this a.m.
thuh mist
ankle thick
in thuh
diaphanous frock
she picks pine needles
from mine toddler spruce
for
tea
for
me
see
Scrambling through gritstone and shale,
pushing up out of myself
to where wind-tusked moors
trowel the sky.
Tall limestone stones,
rounded by the wheels of the wind,
pile atop each other into a curved nudity.
Nothing else here
but the low brow beating wind
where the plateau ends in a stark
nakedness.
I cannot stay, scoured to the bone
pinned down as I am.
I must return to tell someone
that when we have crossed a line
we did not see,
or yesterday knew nothing of,
then we should bite our tongue,
and silently appreciate
the plump village barmaid
who now serves
a warm beer.
It was in the morning
When I heard him snoring
Like loud like a lion
He who falls from my eyes
Every sense feeling nonsense
Early lights in goosebumps
Served myself a red riddle
Leaving me tortured and energetic
Shooting my lungs to no air
My kidneys helped me breathe
Each cough counting complaints
In a peaceful war against the snore
It was at the noon
When I took the spoon
As slowly as a chameleon
I heard with my idle itchy iris
The solo sweetness of sugar
The extent the morning envied
The signalled shock swiftly slowed
At this cold clock I realised
You'll possibly progress into pains
In cheerful charming your chains
I needed bread! I had bread!
Was then full a hundred
It was in the evening
When he saw me shoutly quiet
In twilight trails similar to noon
All that split my peas into pies
I had no more morning mourns
More morning laughs had me
.
hern come'd tuh me
ogle'n my
touch'n my
kiss'n my
love'n
me
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