Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Oskar Erikson Aug 2017
the Moon is made more alive
by the waves
in ponds.

not unlike You.

whose beauty is held captive
momentarily
in every reflective surface,
whose fingerprints leave ichor
love letters
and a laugh like a forest fire.

i am bewitched. Lunacy.
yet it's a sad fate.

as it is impossible to attain
the Moon.

*Not unlike You.
tristan nixon Aug 2017
you are the sun
and i am the moon.

for without you,
i cannot shine.

but i can never
truly have you.
for my long distance lover, who made me incredibly happy before she left me altogether
gabriela Jul 2017
i got something you aren't ready
to hear just yet.
it comes in ash and that's the only way
i know how to present it.
my hands stay covered in midnight
and you sleep through dawn.
you sleep and sleep while
              i lose track of time.
has it been four hours now
or eight?
this lost longing. this familiar ache.
                                      selective amnesia? yeah.
yeah, that sounds about right.
don't call it a "game,"
call it
            "waiting patiently until
the roof caves in. until we become
something not you, not even i
                                 can recognize."
i can't stop thinking about that time a few weeks ago when i said i missed you and you told me that "sometimes i feel the same."
Samantha Marie Jul 2017
Dear Baby,
at this moment
I am 22 and you
are just an idea –
a twinkle in my eye.
But my dear twinkle,
even just as you are,
you must know this:
there are great things
that make this existence of ours
worth experiencing.
Poetry Beauty Romance
Love
Oh captain, my captain
These are what we stay alive for.


Now let me tell you a story, mi lunita
and may you be born with a mind filled with love
romance
beauty
poetry.

Once upon a time,
I met your papi for the first time
in a dream –
of this I am certain.
I stood in front of my friends and family
in a room of heavenly white.
I remember the curve of papi’s shoulder
in his nicest black suit. I remember
vows being whispered in my ear
and the way the light looked behind my eyelids.

I know this was your papi for two reasons:
1.) He is the only man I have loved
that would think to whisper marriage vows
– creating a secret, just for us.
Our love has always been just for us.
Private.
Sacred.
Why do they have to know everything?

2.). On our first date,
I opened the door
and in a burgundy shirt
red carnations in hand,
was your papi.
His lips were shaped like the Amen
to my whole life’s prayer
and I couldn’t stop myself from
embracing him.

So often, baby
your body remembers
what your soul has seen
but your mind has long forgotten.

Listen, my love
Find the quiet.
Feel your soul settled into you.
There is so much to remember.

Mi lunita,
*I remember you.
Ma Cherie Jun 2017
up in the mountains
in a place called Lincoln
15 degrees cooler where I sit

where sweet raindrops fall
an cascade on the leaves here
an monarch butterflies flit

this is a place
that is so otherworldly
everywhere something for me
when lo and behold
above on a lantern
what do you think that I see?

my loveliest Luna
the moth of my moon
sent to me,
this I am sure

my beautiful Luna
feminine lady
I am astounded at her

if you don't know her
you really should
she only lives here to love

Luna my Luna
thank you grandmother
sent to me from up above,

she is a totem of time from before
sacred of sacred is she
Luna my Luna thank you for coming
thank you for rescuing me,

I will remember your sacrifices
given unselfish for free
I will be looking for all other signs too
I will be looking to see

exactly how beautiful
this great big experience is here,
so that I can retell it
in all its true
glory an splendor
undebted to the past
to you again one day.

Ma Cherie © 2017
Wow ; ) my Luna moth is an amazing totem
Franchesca May 2017
Luna, my Luna,
I was seven; I was clueless.
I wondered and wandered
At such a young age.

How was life supposed to be?
What was I supposed to do?
Floating through my mind,
These unanswered prayers remain.

Luna, my Luna,
I was seventeen; I was naïve.
What was I supposed to think?
What was I supposed to feel?

Void after void, it consumed me.
It ate me alive— whole.
Isolation was the answer
To hide my inner demons.

Luna, my Luna,
I am now in my twenties.
Still, lost in the depths of my thoughts.
Still on a high with all of these thrills.

This roller coaster ride,
I’ve come to understand;
How life flows around
In ups and downs.

Luna, my Luna,
How do you watch over the people?
Their thoughts continuously wandering
Through the lifeless atmosphere of this cold night.

Decades after decades,
Do you not ever get tired?
I would like to say thanks
For your constant company.
Once upon a time,
there was a princess
named Luna, she
ruled the kingdom
of the moon, until
the queen, the former,
now elderly, ruler had
passed away, so the
kingdom disappeared
and the princess was
left to wander the
stars, her heart
was a void of
sadness after the
queen died and the
kingdom dissolved
with the mist, she
roamed the shadows
of space, until
she found a
peculiar light,
upon floating
closer, she found
the prince of the sun,
he was also sad, as
his planet was
engulfed by a
larger star, the
princess said
to him, "we are
both very sad,
so we will heal
each other"
they held hands,
feeling the power
of their hearts
glowing the
light of love,
and together,
they birthed the
new kingdom of
Luna and Sol
Lawrence Hall Apr 2017
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com

The Luna Moth

The moon does not in fact wax anything,
She does not wane; she simply ever-is;
She rules the softly-sung, soft-summer nights,
A willing queen, and willingly obeyed.
The luna moth, her winged votary,
Clings to indulgent oaks of their kindness,
Their moon-sent goddess from another world,
And strangely robed and crowned in lunar green,
Pheroming softly for some other moth
To come perform with her those rituals
Of love illogical, of sacrifice;
For all a luna moth can do is live
A summer week or so, but in those hours

She loves

In lunar beauty, strangely eternal
Who needs a dying luna moth?
                                                We do.
Lawrence Hall Apr 2017
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com

The Luna Moth

The moon does not in fact wax anything,
She does not wane; she simply ever-is;
She rules the softly-sung, soft-summer nights,
A willing queen, and willingly obeyed.
The luna moth, her winged votary,
Clings to indulgent oaks of their kindness,
Their moon-sent goddess from another world,
And strangely robed and crowned in lunar green,
Pheroming softly for some other moth
To come perform with her those rituals
Of love illogical, of sacrifice;
For all a luna moth can do is live
A summer week or so, but in those hours

She loves

In lunar beauty, strangely eternal
Who needs a dying luna moth?
                                                We do.
Crimsyy Mar 2017
Light belongs to everyone
even amongst the darkest shade of black,
now tell me, what is it
that my soul lacks?
I'd love to be illuminated
by you,
and I'd just like to say
I really admire the way
you're there when I need you
every 9 o'clock
when I stare out
the corridor window,
no matter the tone of day.
Oh Luna, these mortals
send my sanity astray
while you...you my dear
cremate my lamentations
to show me that underneath it all,
there is a bundle of paranoxisms,
beautiful and bursting,
otherwise known as *me.
Next page