Sunday, September 26, 2010

The Moon and I

I walk alone (or think I do)
I walk a solitary night
But then, the moon goes with me, too,
A gliding globe of silver-white.

The world is sleeping (or is dead)
The dark of shadows closes in
But moonlight fills my eyes and head
And lights my path without, within.

I fall asleep despite the moon,
Despite its sifting through my world
And dream of tasks to be done soon
While I sleep tense, my fingers curled.

I wake up feeling lost and torn
Certain that the moon is gone
The sky shows it is early morn
I see the path the sun is on.

But there it is, outlasting night
The moon, my boon companion still
Dimmer in the blue of sky
But never lost, never gone
No matter what new road I'm on
And neither she nor I know why.


  1. Booya moon...

    Got to love it, thx.

  2. A creative soul, indeed.

    I write of the moon quite often, something about silver light and the magic of it's pull.

  3. What at first threw me was the shift from quatrain with scheme to the final sexain without.
    And then I caught on to how perfect it is that you did that, giving the moon it's rightful place in a new day (new stanza style) though still your companion through the new light of that day.

    I loved this once I saw what you had done Shakes. Just great!

  4. Jeff: Finally I know how to spell booya! Hurray! (I really have always wondered).

    Eric: I'm glad I'm not the only one, but I didn't think I would be. I'm in Seattle, so the moon will soon be hidden for about 8 months, but last night it stayed out for me all night and well into the morning. I checked out your blog, too--some fine poetry you've got there!

    Walking Man: Believe me, the shift was intentional. I like shifts in rhythm better than complete consistency, to show shifts in thought or place. In the quatrains I used ABAB rhyme scheme, too, but in the sestet, I intentionally broke its rigidity for a bit, then brought it back. More structured poetry takes me longer, but I try to make the poem suit the subject (as do you). I haven't had the courage to attempt prose poems. Yet you do it splendidly.