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dailythoughts Oct 2020
the moon burns brighter
glaring at me
shying away on your name

while I shamelessly
hide in my misery
of your poisoned
pillow talks  


                                                               ­                           the moon sees it all
                                                             ­                           even under my skin
                                                                ­                     even over my pretend
                                                         ­                                     truly wondering
                                                                ­                               how I am doing
I continue to pretend
The moon, shy and demure
In her peaches and cream finery
Appears into the faint blue sky
Glides up delicate and slow
As the sky turns midnight blue
Soon she changes hue
Rises in full glory
As she goes up the charcoal sky
amongst the twinkling stars to stay
Now in a fiery orange glow
Written on 18th May 2020 11.20 pm
Inspired by a moonrise video
(was shared by a friend on WhatsApp)
Moonrise in Australia
lua May 2020
dark blue skies
indigo nights
the splatter of white
flecks of light
through tiny holes
on your muddied clothes
and freckles speckled
on skin riddled
with words to say
the transition from day
to the cloudless eve
i cling to you to breathe
as the sunlight fades
and leaves without a trace
hold on to that smile
your hands in mine
fingers merge
and intertwine
you cling to me to cry
as the sun dies
for the moon to rise.
Ksh May 2020
The evening is quiet;
If by 'quiet' one disregards the breeze blowing by --
The clicking of the cicadas on one summer night.

I look up at the inky black sky and realize
That the moon is beautiful --
in a way unlike how conventional beauty is
expected to rob us of our breaths,
to give us tunnel visions,
make us chase the ecstasy of endless nights
in drunken stupor, in drugged haze.

It is not hot-blooded and obsessive and oppressive,
but quite the opposite;
Cold and detached, with a balanced air
of elegance and arrogance that which
only ethereal beings can achieve.

In the back of my mind, I've always known.
I've always felt the moon's presence, heard its call,
but have taken it all for granted.
Its muted warmth, its soft light
that drags my weary bones and tired soul
to the lonely bed, to cold thin sheets,
to the four grey walls I call a home.

Would any other lover be as kind?
Would any other pair of hands be as gentle?
Would any other voice be as soft?
I don't know, nor do I wish to know.
The moon is all I've ever wanted...

...but now I fear it's too late.
What once was I thought the apex of your moonrise
was already your descent;
What else can I do but watch?
Just like celestial bodies in the sky,
we share the same horizon
but are destined to never meet.

My love is the sun, which rises
only when your moon sets.
A short poem I wrote for my socmed au over on twitter, which is called "Ligaya". The character, Keiji, writes and recites this as an expression of love, but changes the last stanzas as he realizes that the one he loves is already happily in love with someone else.
JT Nelson Jun 2019
Blue to gold
Gold to red
Red darkens

Specks of light
One by one
Filling my

Low glow east
Full moon rise
Smiling at

I smile back.
ThatBrokenOne Dec 2018
A new day starts.
The sun comes up,
I wake up.
The sun travels further,
I travel further.
The sun reached its top,
I reached my top.
The sun goes down,
I go down.
The sun has set,
I have set.
The moon rises,
As do I.
The moon travels,
As do I.
The moon reached the top,
As did I.
The moon has set,
As did I.
And an other day has been lived.
farthest star Dec 2018
my sweet sensation
over the moonrise
how it glistens and ignites
a gentle glow
upon my skin
across my soul

nothing to fear
unless she hides
my greatest devastation
all the sunsets and
sunrises with no
golden hour
or moon phases
lei Jan 2017
the sun is setting.
i point my gaze to the sky
and wait for the moon.

as the moon rises,
the words in my throat do, too.
i hope you love me.
First light,
And another long day,
Young gods slowly growing older;

And the death of another day,
Old gods slowly fading back to black.
You can find more of my poetry at
Twilight and
The moonrise

They dictate
Time and sight
Without be
No more light.

— The End —