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PoserPersona Jun 2018
I.
The moon sings the languid flower,
  to bloom at midnight hour
Harmonious feast transpires -
  luminescent choir

Petals mirror la hue de Luna,
  but pale below her glow
Though the desert sweet aroma,
  is fragrance plus photo

Neither causing nightly failure,
  in idyllic charm
In fact, those powers are greater,
  together than apart

II.
The moon a long gone distant rock,
  yet pulls on ocean tops
Cereus lures with sweetest tricks,
  and stings with countless licks  

Battered holy asteroid face,
 woos flawless solar gaze
And even though it causes mire,
  lunar eclipses fire

The cactus thrives in driest sands,
  and chokes in fertile lands
Alluring lonesome wanderers,
  promising mere water

The lucid beauty bewilders,
  as much as it can haunt
In fact, those powers are greater,
  together than apart

III.
You, once my cereus and moon,
  were drowned in my love well
Perhaps, I was this to you too,
  though your hole I’d not delve

However, what was first velvet,
  morphed into devil’s horns
Winter shed those thorns in my chest,
  now spring gifts hope and more

The icy grips of each winter,
  provides spring fuel to spark
In fact, those powers are greater,
  together than apart

IV.
Although we've gone on our own ways,
  I wouldn’t change the past
For each step was necessary,
  to find true love at last

We were once greater together.


I’m now greater apart.
Shofi Ahmed May 2017
Art, a smile like the one
on the face of Mona Lisa.
Curved like the waxing moon
above the sea.
Light a flame before a face
yet to be seen.
What will it prevail,
will it show once for all
a slow tilt on the smiling lips
—a curve softly locks on
a rose from the sun,
or a shadow beneath the moon?
This is a poem from my book Zero and One available on Amazon.
Shofi Ahmed Oct 2017
A thousand and one sunrise
painted the first light time and again.
Yet it gets lost vanishes in one twilight.

Millions of stars witness
that it gets pitch black.
But one doesn't lose the sight,
one doesn't lose the sway!

Still, the night hooks
the Moon in the dark.
Shofi Ahmed Apr 2017
I only took the moon veiled in my cube
I took her innate water off but not for good.
Now the sun can’t take its eyes
off the blindfolded black moon!
Off this night the sunup is yet to unleash
the dawn, let alone the tucked away noon!
Shofi Ahmed Jul 2018
Dancing the billow in the sea
the cool one will show up
in no time with love.
Deep down from the deep
with the flute on the lips.

Listen to the flute!
The chorus clouds bang out
floating by the river blue,
they sing down the sky as they move.

The sun draws in
from the secret valley
ambling with the wonder light
as if it, the punter sun, in the sky
knew it, knows the flutist arty
rose from down the sea!

Every planet is a flying bee
twirling around the inner music
nothing ever stops in the solar disc.

The waning and waxing Moon
in silhouette and at half-light
swings over the sea full of life.

It all starts from the ground;
it was from our sea waterfront
Him the creative sweetheart in the midst
floated the leading light the bumblebee.
All the stars bubble in the galaxy
they know this ancient story!

Since then the brightest bulb
the sun in the solar ring  
leads the bunch’s mindful
butterfly dance on the way home.
Following the enduring haunting melody
of the pre-design command ‘qun’ be!
A poem from my upcoming book Qun: Love is Unconditional
Shofi Ahmed May 2017
A night owl in the harvest moon
was awake till the crack of the dawn
but wasn’t surfing online, wasn’t rowing
the boat in the digital river.
Deep down to a dreamweaving scene
that was, in musing, painstakingly creative.

Wait till you snap up a witty aphorism.
The darling buds of May will be in bloom.
The tickled pink nightingale too will
give out its voice, singing a song.
Save a copy and tweet it to all,
but do give us a demo, tell us a bit more.
Where does it shine and sizzle?
Where did the winter tuck away the rose?
This is a poem from my book Zero and One available on Amazon.
Shofi Ahmed May 2017
I wanted to reach out to the sky
not to touch any star
just to whisper to the Moon
'How beautiful are you'!

I was still, stunned on the ground  
wandering down the sunrise hill.
In the midst of the morning breeze  
I heard of a whispering
‘The eyes in the sky gaze to the ground’.
So close to me that drew
as if that whispered to me ‘tell me about you’!
Shofi Ahmed May 2017
It streams down eye to eye
from the unseen but the all seeing.

Far from the Mars far from the Neptune
skipping all the planets hanging in space
only on the cheek of earth, a drop of tear fell.

Every angel in the heavens' shore
has heard of this lore.
It’s timeless long mesmerising beautiful.
Far from the blue yonder sky
hunky dory is delighting to the eyes
the stunner is made to measure.

A tear in the corner of the eye
as if it's diagonally weighed down
with the 360-degree open looking sky.
As close as within a fingertip comes the Moon
still, a sea is ahead forever untouchable!
My moon drips silver;
Gliding from its craters, flown
Across galaxies

Alien beings
Stare at its state; leaking a
Peak at what it is

But the moon's just the
Moon to us; nothing more than
A dab to the sky

How I wonder the
Way y'all see it tonight; can
You find the beauty?*

~Or is it just the moon?~
I feel sometimes I underappreciated things I never really seem to think are so incredible...
All feedback is welcome :)
False Poets Oct 2017
does the moon get tired?

~for the children who never tire of moon gazing upon the dock,
by the light of the fireflies,
till the angels are dispatched by Nana,
to sprinkle sleepy dust in their eyelashes so long and fine~


<•>
while walking the dog I no longer have,
a happenstance glanceable up over the River East,
there you were, mr. moon, in all your fulsomeness ,
surrounded by a potpourri of courtier clouds,
all deferentially bowing, waving,
passing past you at a demure royal speed on their way
perhaps,
to Rebecca's northern London,
of was it south to grace of  v V v's Texas^,
in any event,
the cloudy ladies, all bustling and curvaceous,  
all high stepping in recognition of your exalted place,
Master of the Night Sky

We,
the word careless, poets excessive,
sometimes called silly poppies, old men,
left footed, still crazy after many years,
most assuredly poets false all of us,
without a proper prior organized thought train,
outed,
bludgeon blurted,
an inquiry preposterous and strange,
strait directed to the sombre face,
to mister moon himself!

tell me moon, do you ever tire?*

the obeisant clouds shocked
as that face we all uniform know,
unchanged anywhere you might go  to gaze, be looking upon it,
watched the moon's face turn askew.

He looking down at our rude puzzlement,
with a Most Parisian askance,
a look of French ahem moustacheoed disbelief,
while we watched as the moon cherubic cheeks
filled with airy atmosphere,
then he sighed

so windy winding, was it,
so mountain high and river deep,
that those chubby clouds were blown off course,
from a starless NYC sky
all the way past Victoria Station,
only to stop at Pradip and Bala's
mysterious land of
bolly-dancing India,
on their way to Sally's Bay of Manila,
magic places all!

Mr. Moon looked down at this one tremulous fool representative  
(me) and in a voice
basso beaming and starry sonorous,
befitting its stellar positioning,
squinting to get a closer look at the
who in whom
dare address him in such an emboldened manner!

Mmmmm, recognize you, you are among those
who use my presence, steal my lighted beams, my silver aura,
my supermoon powered light, borrow my eclipses,
reveal my changeling shaped mystery without permission,
only mine to give, you tiny borrowers who write that thing,
p o e t r y

head and kneed, bowed and bent,
I confessed
(on y'alls behalf)

we take your luminosity and don't spare you
even a tuppence, a lonely rupee, no royalties paid
to you-up-so-highness,
and we hereby apologize for all the poets
without exception,
especially those moon besotted,
only love poem writing,
vraiment misbegotten scoundrels....

with another sigh equality powerful,
mr moon pushed those clouds across the Pacifica,
all the way to the  US's West Coast,
up to Colorado,
where moon-takings from the lake's reflecting light
so perfect for rhyming, kayaking,
and moonlight overthrowing,
once more, the moon taken and begotten,
nightly,
as heaven- freely-granted

yes, I tire
and though  here I am much beloved,
usually admired though sometimes even blackened cursed,
seen in every school child's drawing,
in Nasa's calculations,
of my influential gravitational pull,
moving human hearts
to love and giving Leonard a musical compositional hint,
and while this admirable devotion is most delighting,
would it upset some vast eternal plan,
if but one of you once asked,
you fiddler scribblers
my prior permission,
even by just, a lowly
mesmerizing evening tide's tenderizing glance?

yes, I tire,
even though my cycles are variable,
my shape shifting unique, my names so at variance
in all your many musical sing-song dialectical languages,
my sway, my tidal currents so powerful a deterrence,
unlike my boring older sunny cousine  who just cannot get over
how hot looking she is,
I,  so more personally interesting,
yet you use me as if I were a fixture,
on and off with
a tug of the chain string,
never failing to appear,
even when feeling pale yellow and orange wan,
and worse,
mocked as an amore pizza pie,
do you ever ask how I am doing?

yes, I tire,
of my constant circuitous route that changes ever so slowly,
but yet, too fast for me to make some nice human acquaintances, especially those young adoring children
who give me their morn pleasurable squeals when they awake and my presence still there,
a shining ghost of a guardianship protector still
watching over them

how oft in life do we presume,
take for granted
grants so extra-ordinary
that we forget to remember
the extra
and see only the ordinary

how oft in life do we assume,
the every day is always every,
until it is not,
only an only
a now and then,
till then,
is no longer a
now*

<>
oh moon, oh moon,
our richest apologies
we hereby tender and surrender,
our arrogance beyond belief,
what can we offer in relief?

silence heard loud and clear,
mr. moon was gone,
a satellite in motion,
so our words burnt up in the atmosphere
unheard

we did not weep
nor huff and puff,
blow those clouds back to us,
for we knew
the extraordinary
would return tomorrow,
we will be ready,
better another day,
to prepare
a lunar composition,
a psalm of hallelujah praise,
for mr. moon
of which
mr moon will never tire,
for filled with the perma-warmth
of our affection
for the one we call mr.moon
False Poets is a collective of different poets who write here, in a single voice,
hence the confusing interchangeable switching of the pronouns.    sorry bout that.


^ HP - give them back the claimed  V name!
Lone Luna Dec 2015
Waning she may be, but her light is ever bright
Even more than enough to brighten up my night
No dark clouds she wouldn't fight
No sky she wouldn't might
For she is the ruler of the sky that is night
Luna
King Panda Sep 2015
bat-tastic lung
collapse
fragrant raspberry
leaves
gas exchange gone
wrong
little sailor
slivered ocean
reverse gravitational
sinking into
blackened angler doom
new age
humanitarian
loves others
loves discovering
new
truths
loves
plummeting through spaded
blinds
insanely unappreciative
red
the new harvest
the magician blinking
the the sky
imagination finally
makes
sense
Shofi Ahmed Dec 2017
The moon is still hanging low
since it came down so close.

The seven seas dance
beneath her polished feet
but could never touch it.

Then the intact moon,
in fact, did unleash
only when one popped
out ahead of the rest.
Down from the earth
luminary Muhammad
Peace be upon him
pointed his finger towards it.
And into two halves did the Moon split!

But the man wouldn’t touch it
and remained with us all
with every human the Moon dwarfs!
Commemorating the birthday of the Prophet Muhammad (PBUH). One of his miracles was that he split the moon after some pagans asked him to show them a miracle to prove he is a prophet.
September Roses May 2018
Hot chocolate no longer tastes like chocolate

Tea gets me as drunk as wine

I get about as high on cannabis as I would rosemerry or thyme

The clocks in my house have stopped ticking

Though I never stop to check

There's a litter of stray kittens, outside my door, on the front step

Although time has stopped passing
And the gods have fallen asleep

I still find myself laughing
That I've wept to much to weep
Ive had a few people wonder.
Its limbo
Jordan Rowan Aug 2015
See those red windows by Midland Park
Where the schoolyard stands empty in the frozen dark
See that Neon motor in 21st gear
And the only question is "why are we here?"
In memory motel with unchanging rates
I still see the Moon Glow in your face

By the edge of the stream with bread in hand
Two doves chase the wind to a foreign land
As our voices are carried to a teenage past
In naïve reclusion we knew couldn't last
With a palette of hate I still can taste
I still see the Moon Glow in your face

Weathered storms on a Parisian stage
The book can't be written unless you turn every page
On a worn out, de-facto, company car
The diamonds will promise to make you a star
In sovereign rule of my mind's estate
I still see the Moon Glow on your face

On Ebony's wings coming down from the sky
Miracle rides close behind
The waves from Mexico have long since passed
No moment is forever and it won't be the last
With ocean eyes and a passioned embrace
I still see the Moon Glow in your face
SøułSurvivør Dec 2015
palindrome

shivering stars with horn
moon trumpeting like
mystic swan sailing
the scintillating
galaxies
scintillating the
sailing swan mystic
like trumpeting moon
horn with stars shivering



SoulSurvivor
(C) 12/11/2015
Dedicated to Jeffard Stier... I so much appreciate your support of my poetry! Happy Thanksgiving!
Kevin J Taylor Oct 2015
Smouldering moon over fallen dark embers—
fragments rising in corkscrew red-gold rhythms
.
jerrey Jul 2018
I don’t care how
or care what you do
to make it happen;
I just told you
make me shine
so slather me in turpentine.

I want the sun to shrink
and the world turn dark,
when she’ll no longer rise
after she rests her eyes
upon my fiery spark.

I want the moon to swoon
and raise the tides
when he looks for the sun,
but instead
it’s my beauty that he finds.

I want the stars to bow down
and shower me in gold
when I shine brighter
and reach higher
than the stars of old.

I want storms to make
the world stir
when I walk upon
their earth,
no matter what it’ll take.

I don’t care
if it kills me;
just answer my plea.
I just want, so badly,
to shine,
so slather me in turpentine.
Shofi Ahmed Sep 2018
Ambling in a full-moon night
let alone the Moon
I only asked for a star.
Because I wanted
to be in tune
with the half-lit sky.

But none did
stop by me.
Not even the little firefly.

Oh, from nowhere
from the colour black.
Off its sea of different shades
whips out the night.

The Moon in black
was indeed painting in the dark.
Though every star was
keeping a wide-open eye.
But no one wants to tell where
Before the very blink
of the waxing Moon's eye
where does the night scurry away?
Tammy M Darby Jan 2014
Evening slipped into the long abyss
So fell the red moon
Malicious shadows forecasting doom
For the cursed animal man
Inhabiting the precious earth

Fearsome rolling rivers ran dry
Black smoke filled the spanning azure skies
The churning murky green oceans gave up the bones of their dead
When the moon turned red

The crust of the hard ground shook
Split and burst into deep fiery crevasses
Dark yellow orange smoldering nooks
Swallowing all of life
So obliterated was mans world as we know it
Destroyed
Barron and dead
When the moon turned red

This poem is copyrighted and stored in author base. All material subject to Copyright Infringement laws
Section 512(c)(3) of the U.S. Copyright
Act, 17 U.S.C. S512(c)(3), Tammy M. Darby Jan.10, 2014
savspoetry Oct 2018
*      *      *      and you are      *      *            
   *           *  just­ like the moon *      *          
*        *   *      -----so, alone-----      *      *    
   *      *    but you shine bright  *      *    
*     *            at the darkest  *      *     *
   *      *      *     of times  *      *      *      *    
*           *           *           *         *          
SøułSurvivør Mar 2015
~.~.~.~


floating
on the breeze
swirling
in a swoon
laments in
blue and purple
are the
petals of the moon

waned a
crescent of a flower
waxed to
cabbage rose
now the
tight held tithes
sift down
in
airy
floes

lying in the grass
of a dark
wide-open
field
sweet
swanning
petals find me
moon's offerings
revealed

i inhale their
fragrance
their light sweet perfume
they cover me
with kisses

the
petals
of
the
moon
soulsurvivor
(c) 2014
rewritten
(c) march 12, 2015

Dedicated to my dear friend Jonnie... she makes me happy!

This is one of my most popular & beloved poems, my dear! I hope you enjoyed it!

God Bless & Happy Thanksgiving!
Shofi Ahmed Jul 2018
When the sun
is a sleeping beauty at night
shining on the Moon!
The night is wake
is a stunner far cuter.
It knows no cold foot
is on the move.

The full wax of the starry
sky keeps awake.
But none could chart a line
exposing a beautiful
night in the veil, no one
says a single word.

The first one perhaps that
dared to open the mouth
only to be speechless
to be lost for word!

Not a night or two ago but
since the dawning of the time!
Ivana Rodriguez May 2018
I reached for the stars,
And I think I may have reached too far.
The stars, they blistered and scorched my hands,
While I was just trying to understand
Of why in the first place I was there;
Up in space throwing a glare
at the moon.

The moon who shun a godly, divine light,
And at night
Who was so bright, white,
And elegant.
Space who was dark, and as dim as my soul:
The colour of ash and coal.
I was just trying to obtain a stupid goal
That I had.

And the moon was white, and the space was black.
The stars were gold and I had my back
Towards the earth.
But the gold stars and the white moon were not all that
When they brought down an evil wrath
On me.
So the sun, who I actually feared,
Cradled and held me near.
Rocked me from side to side and called me dear.
Circled the earth and formed a year
To teach me that looks can be deceiving,
Misleading,
And can lead to infinte internall bleeding.
[yes, ik that the sun does not circle the earth, but it went w/ the poem so **** :)]
O fast day that trembles at the sight of Moon -
when will your warm arms bend again
the night's thick armor
that shades the world of joyous muse?
 
It is most facetious in its illusion,
that renegade of pale indifference,
when daylight dwindles and leaves more to imagine
than can be seen with naked eye.
 
Beneath the gaze of Her taunting face,
people do not walk as done in light -
suddenly, trudging and stumbling are the hip style.
Faces covered in guilt, remorse, fatigue -
all the things Sun can wash away with a simple,
lucid grin.
 
If brightest light were set ablaze in midst of night,
would not the people be plucked from false sanctuary
which darkness so convincingly provides?
Then many a Lost could be freed;
if only to see clearly through effervescent haze.
 
O blessed Sun!
With your arousal, Truth and Freedom will also reprise -
until again that blank stare casts its malevolent glow on
Delusion.
Prose from a street-lit bench.
MJL Mar 9
I’m here
No party
Who’s ****?
I'm not afraid
Everything’s primitive
New baby’s old
Suckling eternity
Carrying his mother
Teaching her father
A universe of historic shame
Threatening
The expanse of senseless
Intolerance
Grasping ignorance by the pores
Infant nails dig in and hold
Evolutions face of madness
Bloodshot
Biding a soiled fate
Biting for more
Sanity
Growing until -ism’s explode
Tears that crave change
Go forward
Moon Star Traveler
Be you
Be here with me
Recede against hate
Be one with the human race
Be one with the universe
Each generation brings us a step forward to ending intolerance.
Skaidrum Jun 2015
.
Ancient games
tell tales of dust.  |||   A story drawn
from the lips of two poets.



~~~~~


It's the wits that ****, not Queens of ivory or ink. *
Charged with
coal strokes, scraping up the lies.
Pawns & Knights slip between the grasp of the sun, leaking into
   lion jaws of Leo.
Shifting these granite plates, ignoring the Rooks common price of aslant.
Here we have slain kin, crescent traitors that backstab the night and battlefield.
Closed doors and trap floors, trade me a tie, swindling your tactic ruts.
Reality never got the noose around our necks, check turned into manslaughter, and kingdoms ripped asunder by the roar of Jupiter
Get up, get up, get away from these liars, they can't have your rank or your fire.
Peak a notion, this match is spared by a luft.
Toss away the pride buried 'neath your dusty skin, it don't matter no more if   death has you by the lips.
Silence is a language too in our eyes of earth.
Take my hand, knott your soul into this downfall, and brace yourself for the wreckage in our bones.
The Sword of Sorrows will fall 'pon your shoulders, not to slay thee, but to dub thee a new day.
The drums of war will knit the lyrics in the sky,
singing:
"The mighty sharpen their fangs, the weak sharpen their wisdom"
~~~~~
I'm tired of your wishbones, and golden scales, give me the hard-earned truth.
Hot coals of honesty may you tread upon, shadow-bitten remorseful may you be, don't stray off the course of Ursa major.
The North star isn't the one I follow
It's the moon with all of it's phases,
Eclipsing and crescent, tipping the sky with it's beauty.
Now let this sink further than any soul has ever sunk,
no man could ever
rule the moon.
~~~~~~
Shoot on command,
C
h    
      e
c  
      k
m
a
t      
e

~~~~
You could drag me to hell and back and those words wouldn't mean anything.
Let this downfall become a *downfell,

Because last I checked
"Wolves worship the moon"
and I have broke it's reflection in the water
Just
by
throwing
s                    
t          
o
         n
                 e
                              s
                               ­        .

.
A collab between
The Dragon Prince & Skaidrum.

I'll give most credit to
Kalum here.

© Copywrite The Dragon Prince & Skaidrum
Anakaren Davila Jul 2018
I always wondered
who taught you how to love
was it the fierce full moon
while it lighted you through a blackout night?
or the night owl
who sweetly sang you lullabies?


it wasn't until I had you
At the darkest hour of the night
Howling under the moon
And saw your hazel eyes
So vulnerable, yet fearless
That I knew
it was the wild wolves
who gently taught you how to love
jane taylor May 2016
my heart breaking
into a thousand pieces
i fade away
looking for a distant wall
to dissolve in
and evaporate

unable to vanish
i slowly gather the shards
ground fresh and smaller now
i gently blow them
and watch them magically disappear
into the night’s silver moon

©2016janetaylor
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