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lua Jun 21
Sweet simple tunes
Under the light of the moon
So tender and bright
When the sun had died
All things had dimmed
Each fiery red into cool blues
But beneath the light
Of the Moon’s gentle gaze
Her soft fingers graze
The lands where we lay
And from her downcast eyes
Tears drip down her face
Each poignant drop falls
Onto grass and soil
And bloomed
These meadows
Valleys of white
These small flowers of the night.
LRF May 31
The poppies stretch
and daisies yawn
awakening with the morning sun,
hibiscus blooms bask
and tulips preen,
as the sun arcs in the sky.

But as the evening settles,
the sun's heat fades
and the dazzling colours quieten,
eyelid petals close
and settle in to roost.

The silent arrival
of the evening star's glimmer
in the inky black,
is marked by no ceremony
of rise or set,
except by the tangled vine
in the gardenbed.

The ******* buds
of the moonflowers
unfurl, furtively at first,
but
in its twinkle
the evening star whispers and coaxes
until
the white trumpets flourish
and the star sees itself reflected:
a five-point imprint
at the heart of every moonflower.
May 2020

Dedicated to the moonflower; may you be seen in the darkness.
To Flower
by Michael R. Burch

We are not long for this earth, I know—
you and I, all our petals incurled,
till a night of pale brilliance, moonflower aglow.
Is there love anywhere in this strange world?

The agave knows best when it’s time to die
and rages to life with such rapturous leaves
her name means Illustrious. Each hour more high,
she claws toward heaven, for, if she believes

in love at all, she has left it behind
to flower, to flower. When darkness falls
she wilts down to meet it, where something crawls:
beheaded, bewildered. And since love is blind,

she never adored it, nor watches it go.
Can we be as she is, moonflower aglow?

When Pentheus [“grief’] went into the mountains in the garb of the baccae, his mother [Agave] and the other maenads, possessed by Dionysus, tore him apart (Euripides, Bacchae; Apollodorus 3.5.2; Ovid, Metamorphoses 3.511-733; Hyginus, Fabulae 184). The agave dies as soon as it blooms; the moonflower, or night-blooming cereus, is a desert plant of similar fate.

Published by The Neovictorian/Cochlea, Famous Poets and Poems, Poetry on Demand, Sonnetto Poesia (Canada)

Keywords/Tags: Moonflower, cereus, agave, Illustrious, Pentheus, grief, Dionysus, maenads, Euripides, Ovid
Just like I am, the shadows play in the night light, the moon flowers open as my eyes, so I witness their glory, the moon is a friend, who knows my every worry,
the moths eat away at the trees, frogs splash in a water spring.
When I dose off, the night guards me as I sleep walk,
a lizard slithers onto a rock,
the night is awake but when I it starts to slip off, I curse the thought that day is fixing to start, people can see me in the light, live people that have no heart, the demons do come at me when it's dark but at least I know they'll soon have to depart,
they cannot damage my soul, no, not like those that live.
~SacredInkedBlood
Read my thoughts on YourQuote app at https://www.yourquote.in/jencie-arnold-b8y6/quotes/just-like-i-shadows-play-night-light-moon-flowers-open-my-so-4tpnm
She
wished
to write
the diary
of a flower,  
unknowing
of how the
pages were
endless,
as the
song
of her
beautiful
mind the
garden
came
forth
from,
her
soft
angel
eyes
opened
for the
eyes of
a book
within
her private
perusal,
where her
being had
came to the
embrace,
and so
followed
her heart,
the rest
came
In waves
as her
hands
stroked her
gentle
features,
her skin
was the
winter
moon,
though
not fairer
than her
deeper
thoughts
as a blue
sea with
the softer
whispers
of clouds,
her home
lyed within
the deepest
part of the
library,
seldom
wandering
to the cafe,
her heart
wished to
sees beauty
In others
veiled to
the eyes,
wondrously,
she meditated
upon the light
waiting to be
sought, the
butterfly
to touch
her palms,
eventide
fell as
she walked
through the
garden by
the moon,
hidden
with the
roses
forever,
the poet
of love who
gazed upon
a symphony
of dew-beads
as stars,
appearing
as shrines
of memory,
as the night
lights of a
universe
for only
her,
as she
gazed
upon them,
with her
gentle
voice,
she sang,
“can I call
this love,
or the words
of falling rain?”
as she watched,
with the leaves,
and the gentle
dew, opening for
love letters
untold,
her lips
touched
the petals,
and tears
fell from
her eyes,
and upon
the white
petals,
the night
sleeps
forever,
the tears
became
the far
tides
of an
ocean,
love is
the rose
of suffering
and beauty,
and the one
whom has
known it
lives forever
as a home
for others,
the nightingale
sings as her
ink flowed as
waves
upon her
papers,
where she
wandered, with
meditations upon
Monet arose
as lullabies
of a secret
world,
songs of
honeysuckle
and wisteria
brighter
than the
wings
of fairies,
the small gifts of
precious wonders
she held with all
the curiosity
in her hands,
as she
thought
to herself,
were these
lights, or
the few
thousands
teaching
her to
dance
from
within?
she reaches
the waters,
and the
delicate,
fair form
touched
the moonlit
mirrors,
where she
witnessed
the truth
beyond
words,
amongst
the tear
painted
petals, the
moon sings
the symphony
for her, “are you
the one I have
been seeking?”
as it’s light
touches her
wandering
steps, she
returns to
her home,
and in her
blankets,
she writes,
“to my lover,
I will remember
how we met
each other
as waves,
from the
lost, far
away
parts
of the
ocean,
we found
the shores
becoming
eyes, they had
sought themselves
to be lost in legions
of constellations
in the galaxies
of hearts,
with the stars
that waited
to be born,
the flecked
specks of light in
divinations of the
midnight hours,
and reminisced
the dappled
dreams of
colors and
witnessed
beauteous
musing, in
the cafe,
where our
conversations
poured
the seas
into cups
of tea, and
explored
the question
of metamorphosis
through words,
shifting time
through the
touching of
marble cups
and the colloquy
of our eyes, the
artistry in the
miracle of the
gentle, I walked
In flight with you,
as we shared the
unspoken stories
of our hearts
woven through
the rain,
under the
umbrellas
leading
to your
home,
where we
watched
the paintings
of the night
skies as the
memories
of us, the
lights
touched
by the
secret
garden,
where I
wandered”.
her hands
then closed
the pages,
and her eyes
rested upon
the pillow,
and the
moon
chants,
“O fair
maiden,
you are
the one
whose
existence
Is loved, the
nightingale
has sung to
you upon
It’s branch
near your
window,
though
fairer is
your
voice,
you are
the gentle
one who
turns all
of what
you have
seen to
artistry,
when
you love,
all is in
bloom,
la fleur
de lune.
Alice Lovey Jun 2018
Meet me where the stars bloom like flowers,
Where the sunflower caresses us with its golden grace,
Only preceded by the moonflower that bathed us in serene the night before.
Meet me where the garden gleams, flourished from the lifeblood of our togetherness.
I'll arrange an accretion of roses around your eyes that pull me in.
The galaxy is our bouquet.
Lie with me, turned from the weeds we willed away.
The stars bloom like flowers in my heart;
I pick one and it illuminates the infinite dark,
Just as your laughter.
blah blah, another flower metaphor, yadda yadda another space analogy.
I tried to keep it simple and sweet, apart from my usual longer narrative-styled poems.
Elise Jackson Jul 2017
You're brighter than the midday sun.
Day 23/31 of my "Six Words A Day" Challenge for the whole month of July, the whole collection can be found on my page on the first of August.
traces of being Aug 2016
Moonflower petals secreted nectar                          
the lovely sublimity of blossoming flower

Tall, thin~stemmed ,  pastel flesh~
bud to open          
only after nightfall

An elicit echo                                
the way moonlight reflects
on warm raindrop
impearled *******

Her moist curvaceous silhouette  
night~blooming lilt
with summer breeze
dulcet sway

Window open ,                              
sultry , and raining in            
single delicate petal cast off  
like a party dress fallen
in a beautiful mess
upon the rain puddled
wooden floor

Entrancing shadow cast              
a pleasing taste            
the flower’s exotic fruit

Satiate the hidden hunger        
mirrored within                 
all – devouring            
deep brown eyes 

Writhed in the beautiful                
passion throes              

the naked sweetness              
of the wanton agony exposed


✩ ✩☺ ✩ ✩
Moonflower blooms under a sky full of stars
Daylily opens beneath earth's brightest star
delicate floral flesh and pollination
scented soft spring breeze
~ sensual enchantment ~

— The End —