A Moon Rose; a moon's prose

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The Full Moon shined in metaphoric glow
walking in the darkness that we all know
caught between home
and where we roam
all alone.

Feeling the moment they jot down some words
scrabble ear blured ...mumbles 'absurd'

"Crickets sing under a full hung Moon,
give me life,
then give me a room.

Bull frogs bellow with a tenor ear
give me supper
and a good cigar.

The Moon is a flower blooming
each night above
lunacy boiled in blood

Full Moon over me light my way
cradled till morning
when comes the day."

The Poet stood looking
after sounding out their prose
at the moon over head
the night sky 'Rose'

Your words broke the night's silence
and becon'd the dogs to howelling.
causing the cats to scream
as they quickly leave
stirs the night's breeze

A man at his window was staring at the moon
he too found favor in the night glowing loom
"You Prose...
you off your meter?"
shutting the window
and out went his enlightenment.

You find compassion for his words
to know that all have a say
dogs bark
bark
barking away

They walk a little further down this dark road
stop for a moment and listened
to the lunar prose
the nights
light glows

destiny rides on the power of one's toes
walking
watching
a Moon rose

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4 Comments
AmyfriendAmyfriendabout 17 years ago
The poem..

created startling images and they were no longer alone as the night came alive with sounds...Nicely done.

duddle146duddle146over 17 years ago
Exquisite.

Loved how this Poet used nocturnal animals to bring out the beauty of this poem. "Crickets singing ~ Bull frogs bellowing..." such lovely night sounds.

Bill DadaBill Dadaover 18 years ago
Yah...

...what he said.

LeBrozLeBrozover 18 years ago
~~

Any idiot can make like a critic;

to wit:

"Crickets sing under a full hung Moon,

give me life,

then give me a room.

Bull frogs bellow with a tenor ear

give me supper

and a good cold beer.

The Moon is a flower blooming

each night above

lunacy boiled in flaming red blood

Full Moon over me light my way

cradled till morning

when comes the day."

The critic's job's easy,

to tell you what's wrong;

the creator's job's harder,

writing words without song.

A fun piece Art ~ well done.