That illuminated dust ball,
dough faced;
a pie with no filling.
and it seems to have the scent
of a long dead romance.
On the porch my spayed
lays her head in my lap
ignoring the weak wolf calls
of an addled moon
and its piss-poor love songs.
Old moon was leaving; he said his goodbyes to creatures of the night.
Butterflies and moths felt sad, knowing they would now never see his light.
Luna moths decided to surprise him, and they turned brilliantly white.
To show their appreciation, letting retiring old moon see their bright.
From the white citadel on the hill
Subtle and suffused glory
The light of freedom fountains spill
In streets muddy and gory
And the rain of seeded clouds aloft
By torrent floods wet the land
Old roots are tumbled out, and no raft
Carries the stones that make the sand.
Obdurate mountains like empires gone
The street dancing tonight likr dawn
The stag watches the still trembling fawn
The winds bring fertile seeds to spawn
And I from afar smell spring afresh
The old climate for planting
And the cyclic reaping of the flesh
And flowers bloom for sniffing
Let nature plant and the hills shall want
Nothing for the free harvest
Of fall. O but beauty still grows scant
Among the gathering of pest
And the old eyes that read the blank stars
Tell by the moon the new change
Is only fireflies in crystal jars
The moon is sad, and so sadly strange.
I will send you a note
tonight
if I can catch the firefly
in bed
somewhere
in an old worn out basin
down by the river
is left an empty seashell
if I can coil over its rusty fence
and say goodbye
to the coral snake
I will call you
I still carry
the cockroach wing
looking at the Moon
from the garbage heap
where nobody wants to look
should the moon come out
this age old garbage
will begin to change color
growing harmony
in its steps
we too have known Burma,
Vietnam and have been
to Singapore in the classroom; yet
we get the smallest pension
(Wilberforce, 08/12/2011)
In the dark sky
the old moon rises
moving very high
buying by the prices
the old moon buys
whatever it likes
THE OLD MOON RISES
Over the trees, it smiles at me,
that big old moon,
is all we need.
Casting its halo,
all over the earth,
lighting everything below.
Many a lover has looked above,
reminiscing of old,
and future loves.
Dreams have been dreamed,
lips have been kissed,
and love has been made unseen.
Over the trees,
that big old moon,
is all we need.
Mysterious, but so beautiful,
lighting up the sky,
just hanging so perfect,
same course every night.
Few have caressed you,
hidden secrets linger within,
but magic you give freely,
old moon, a pathway to friends.
These special ones,
so far away,
bring so much happiness,
just like the stars, moon, and sun,
locked forever, in your friendship kiss...