Out on the roof gazing at the moon again. . .hope you don't mind too much. . .
Child to Moon, Come In
Pretty is as pretty does. Every time I let it spill that the woman in the moon cast her silver-gold spell on me, here it comes. How stupid can I be? Don’t I know her smile is a come-on? She is cold. She is distant. A pale milk-toast who ducks behind clouds unexcused. Not stupid, I wait for Owl’s yooo-hooo, then inch up the window by my bed, cre-e-e-e-p onto the roof, and bend my favorite spell-caster’s ear. You listen, I mouth. I know you know, but. . .you listen. Always home, just have to close my eyes, and here you are. When I’ve said my piece, you beam a big I Hear You. Secrets always safe. Tell me something, Miz Moon. Why is it you let those clouds walk all over you? That’s not it, she sighs. They work with me. I help them lighten up a little; they keep me from seeing too much. You need to let me listen, I say. Not all ears, but take a gander. Look like an elephant’s, or not? We still laugh about it. L i s t e n.
Each person is but a grain of sand resting beside the sea. This thought sets the tone for Jill Eisnaugle’s latest poetry collection, Beside Still Waters.
David Hightower’s lyrically expansive meditation on the whims of fate and the unpredictability of the human condition fill the pages of THE HANGING MAN DREAMS with thrilling music and mesmerizing imagery. Hightower’s richly infused voice echoes the e
This book represents a thirty-day period of my poetry journal. Each poem addresses
the dominant thoughts occupying my mind during the early morning hours of a given
day.
Share
Print
Save
Follow
Getting old now ...missing out mostly!!
Love Tinka
Rose