Moon Star Poems | Examples
These Moon Star poems are examples of Star poems about Moon. These are the best examples of Star Moon poems written by international poets.
A woman kneads dough for cakes.
She is sad and weary of life...
Into every piece, she mixes both a little anger
and joy – for herself, for the children, for her man.
She holds nothing back from life.
When the cakes are baked,
the anger fades away
and only the aroma of joy remains...
You still cherish
that rag doll from your childhood.
As if you never grew up.
When you change the water in the vase,
lightly stroking the lily stems,
I am moved…
You always bloom when surrounded by flowers.
And when we lie side by side
for eternity, half-immersed in sadness,
it seems to me that life is not to be taken
too seriously.
It’s Sunday –
a snow-dreamy morning…
The mad, embroidered Moon hangs
on the cloth of the sky.
Amidst a barren land I see
a speak-burning tree.
I am so dispirited.
By the roadside chapel, a small boy listens
to the deaf-mute woman…
through touch.
You are my Seine...
unchanging through winter and summer.
You are my wise Amu Darya, knowing
both the desert’s heat and the melting ice.
You are my faithful Ganges – a river of lotuses
and burning pyres.
You are my gleaming Yangtze from the land of ginseng.
You are my wild, swirling Ucayali…
You are my wistful Mississippi,
drawing me ever closer to the sea.
I am but a raft swaying on the waves of your dreams.
I drift downstream, past islands of solitude,
to cast anchor in the harbor of your
Passion…
Sometimes I feel
as if my soul hung by a slender thread
of my mother’s raven-black hair.
I remember…
her breasts beneath a floral blouse,
secretly reading the forbidden novel, The Hunchback of Notre-Dame,
with a flashlight under the blanket,
and the worn figurine of a Japanese geisha
father used to stroke from time to time.
Even in old age, I like to curl up in bed,
as I did in the womb before birth.
And wearing my mother’s stretched-out violet sweater,
I never feel lonely.
I was awakened
by a kookaburra’s screams
a crackling bushfire…
this parched yet amazing land
is forever in my dreams
twilight is falling
on the river of Desire
I’m dreaming in vain…
young love never comes to me
by a silent lonely lane
I’m fascinated
by all elephant wisdom
watching a movie
they walked through a hotel hall
as quietly as the ghosts...
pain imprisons me
in the tightest straitjacket
again sleepless night...
I call upon the angels
to help me in endless fight
That summer of 1969 in Venice still resonates within me...
A Slovak boy, Mario, and an Italian girl, Laura – fourteen and thirteen years old.
She had long chestnut hair and captivating eyes…
We sat on a bank by a bridge in the evening,
while illuminated boats floating on the lagoon.
The song Sotto le stelle, Beneath the Stars, played from a nearby bar.
I listened with amazement to that melodic speech, watching her charming gestures.
I didn't understand a word, yet I felt a blissful warmth in my heart...
Suddenly, heavy rain began to fall; Laura gave me a quick kiss on the cheek
and vanished under the arcade of a weathered building.
Just then, a shooting star fell...
I have carried the imprint of her lips in my heart all my life.
every act of love
is like a little death to me...
each time a piece of me is lost
to become more attentive…
I feel bound to the heavy ground
yet free as a bird
just to take flight on the wings
of selfless Desire...
it’s a bleak evening
wood crackles in the shabby hearth
sadness in my heart...
suddenly a forest sound –
for his doe longs lonely hart
she sits on the porch
filled with anticipation...
the scent of pears floods the house
she cannot even guess how softly
I steal inside…
through the half-drawn curtain
cradling a broken rainbow
in my arms
sweet white plum blossoms…
softly floating in the air
they look like light snow
distant Fujiyama’s peak –
fleecy clouds so slowly flow
when she stealthily slipped away
from the abandoned beach...
a thick fog suddenly veiled everything
I realized I would never see her again
she left behind only footprints in the damp sand
the faint fragrance of lavender
and twilight in my soul...