"moonbeam" poems
Paints of dark twilight hues,
Slathered across in blunt strokes.
Blend with deft hands,
Cajole gently with jabs and pokes.
Backdrop begging for a few others.
Longing to hold in infinite embrace.
Friends of earth and midnight sky.
Worthy of a doe-eyed lovers' gaze.
Cascading moonbeam...
Drenching all in silvery white.
Restless twinkling stars...
Singing their mismatched might.
Silhouetted landscape as horizon,
Darkened oils of plateaued ridges.
Finest brush could only manage,
To close the gap, I build bridges.
Nearing completion, this stint on canvas.
Nuances of dawn for what I've begun,
Usher the arrival of a brand new day.
All I need now is a few drops of sun.
Oct 6, 2014
Oct 6, 2014 at 11:05 AM UTC
and there i am in the midst of it all, conscious of what appears to be existent, yet knowing it is illusory. and if time is occurring synchronously then how can i look back with contrition? for if i have the capacity to move backwards and forwards in quantum leaps, i can erase the past like pastel chalk on an antique blackboard, then start anew. is not the sky my canvas and the arc of the rainbow my palette? and the stars in lustrous luminosity light my way so that ev’n at dusk I can paint. yet pain ne’er ceases to hollow me out. then through a barren vessel i catch more rain, and pour it out upon the parched terrain. just when i thought enlightenment was nigh, a sharp edge is discovered. must it necessitate additional sandpapering from the wind? when will the gemstone sparkle without further pressure? does it lie in its power to simply shimmer sans duress? perhaps it was dazzling at its inception, relinquishing its luster upon domestication. with this proviso, as it nears twilight i shall tarry and blend with the night. i’ll dance with a moonbeam knowing the jewel will glisten afresh upon the rise of the golden sun.
@2016janetaylor
May 5, 2016
May 5, 2016 at 11:37 AM UTC
***Sailing through the
midnight sky,
Sailing through the
midnight sea,
in a boat of moon.***
***Fishing for my dream,
so far
Fishing for my dream,
so near
My rope - a single moonbeam
and my bait- one silver star***
Jun 26, 2017
Jun 26, 2017 at 2:48 AM UTC
The stars are soft as flowers, and as near;
The hills are webs of shadow, slowly spun;
No separate leaf or single blade is here--
All blend to one.
No moonbeam cuts the air; a sapphire light
Rolls lazily. and slips again to rest.
There is no edged thing in all this night,
Save in my breast.
7.3k
Love has always had, a favourite corner.
With Secrets, Wounds and Scars.
Hearts often meet, at Sunsets.
So at Night, they can count the Stars.
Lonely is My Heart Tonight,
as I stand upon this Sand.
Crashing Waves roll all over Me,
Finally a Moonbeam holds My Hand.
At Midnight, as I try to close My Eyes.
To exhale My Loneliness Away.
My Eyes keep waiting for a Heartful Soul.
But not a Soul comes My Way.
Jun 17, 2023
Jun 17, 2023 at 12:27 PM UTC
A single moonbeam falls on her face,
like God revealing an angel.
But she is my angel;
my dark angel of the night.
Like the night itself she moves,
silence and grace in her every step.
Her midnight hair like the rippled clouds,
soft silky strands shining in the moonlight.
Dark eyes, darker than the new moon,
shine with promise of things to come.
Full lips parted in a feral grin,
her very presence touches me
deeper than a winter midnight’s chill.
My dark angel.
I close my eyes;
I am hers;
She is mine.
Dec 18, 2013
Dec 18, 2013 at 11:44 AM UTC
i tagged a ride
up along side
the tail end of a lavender moonbeam
with nary a care
as it darts here and there
effortlessly moving on its nightly stream
i fashioned a kite
made from solar fire
stitched together with starlight dreams
in the design
of cloud #9
on the tail end of a lavender moonbeam
Apr 17, 2014
Apr 17, 2014 at 2:05 PM UTC
awakened
in the silence of the night
unable to return to sleep
i sat listening
as the stars taught me
unheard messages
delivered on a shimmering moonbeam
tho' i did not intellectually understand
i intuitively knew
what the starlight was saying
then sleep returned
and upon awakening
my intellect seems to have forgotten
the message
my heart now knows
©2016janetaylor
Sep 17, 2016
Sep 17, 2016 at 2:20 PM UTC
The sun is shining and
moonbeams glisten through the air.
Moon, not sun.
While the sun shone
and incinerated the sloshing intestines of
vengeful beasts;
the gentle and forgiving moon
projected from their eyes and
caught the ****** maw of a starving deer.
Suitcases of leather stacked behind us
filled with spruce, pine, elm, oak, cherry.
Ready for induction t
o our paperless society
which consumes the forests of
Hippolyta and Antiope mercilessly.
Burning every leaf
then forgetting to feel
because nothing mattered.
Everything never mattered.
Facts are lie, opinion is truth.
“No one is nothing”
they shriek to the heavens
striving to be limitless
and scorning morality. Embrace death
and all its glory.
Life, while full of happiness
and gorgeous splendor,
refuses to acknowledge the
magnitude of the word. The thing.
Falling and reading and lines
and circles and explosions
and whimpers and screams. Agony suffered
silently, alone; never understood
because how could it?
What could totally encompass
the raging fire that devours the veins
and burns from the inside out
kept in place by the impenetrable
flesh that glints in the forgiving moonlight.
A hostile exterior that
smiles, waves, laughs on cue to
disguise the raging storm
fighting its way through from inside.
The shell which shrinks from the moonbeam
and into the harsh sunlight
that filters beneath the floating clouds.
Jun 16, 2018
Jun 16, 2018 at 10:18 AM UTC
Out in the children’s playground
On the wasteland, near the flat,
There once was a shiny roundabout
They called ‘The Witches Hat’,
It hung from a greasy centre pole
And would spin, just like a top,
For once that we set it spinning
It would take an hour to stop.
They painted the Hat in black shellac
So it gleamed beneath the sun,
But stood like an evil entity, in the dark
When the day was done,
We never ventured abroad by night
For the land, we thought, was cursed,
With the Witches Hat a reminder of
Just what had stood there first.
Once it had been a Magic Wood
With Elves, and Grimms and Ghosts,
Witches covens and Goblins ovens
We heard about the most,
The land was cleared for a new estate
And they called the land a park,
But nights you heard the muffled shuffle
Of dancing, in the dark.
It was then that they set the Witches Hat
Up on a pole to spin,
One of us ran around with it
While others sat on the brim,
We always ran with it clockwise
Then stood back to count the spins,
For Mother Malloy had warned us
Never to turn it widdershins.
She said it would stop the earth, and that
The sun would go back down,
The Prince of Darkness lay in wait
For the Witches Hat, his crown,
We thought that she must be bonkers
And we laughed each time she frowned,
But never would spin the Witches Hat
Not once, the other way round.
But then on an Autumn afternoon
When the nights were coming in,
Mother said, ‘Take your brother out,
Go take him out for a spin.’
She wanted to clean the house, she said,
‘And you’re always in the way!’
So I took young Robin out with me,
He’d just turned four that day.
I put him up on the Witches Hat
And I spun, and spun him round,
But Robin was a querulous child
And he cried, to put him down.
So then in a bloody-minded mood
And after a dozen spins,
I stopped the Hat and I turned it round,
And ran with it, widdershins.
It must have been almost dusk by then
For the sun dropped into the ground,
The Moon came up with a silver beam
And it lit the whole surround,
I ran as fast as I’d ever run
And the Hat spun like a top,
Robin sat on the opposite side
So I’d see him, once I’d stop.
I ran until I was out of breath
Then I stopped to watch it spin,
But no-one was on the Witches Hat
And I felt the fear begin,
I searched and scoured the land around
And I crawled beneath the Hat,
The little fellow had disappeared
So I ran back home to the flat.
I’ll always remember that awful day,
The day when the fates were cast,
I’d spun him into the future, or
I’d left him there in the past,
I shouldn’t have turned it widdershins
But now can’t bring him back,
At night it gleams in a pale moonbeam
That terrible Witches Hat!
David Lewis Paget
Dec 27, 2013
Dec 27, 2013 at 12:16 AM UTC
*moonbeam
i dared to take your hand
and slid from this dark night
a view of altitude
all is forever clear
©2016janetaylor
May 11, 2016
May 11, 2016 at 6:20 PM UTC
i am frightened – i’m alone
it is dusk and i am scared
oh why was i born - what does it mean
i wish someone cared
i feel separate – apart from all
it’s an awful thing to bear
the twilight set in its eventide
at blackness i stare
moonbeam take my hand
moonbeam guide me home
moonbeam stay by me
don’t leave me alone
i'm confused and i’m asleep
what is behind the dream?
if i’m not awake then this whole thing
is not what it seems
healed then broken once again
peelin’ layers until i see
that it is a screen ain't nothing there
but eternity
moonbeam take my hand
moonbeam guide me home
moonbeam stay by me
don’t me leave alone
i feel like i need a map
in the dim with no one near
it’s a maze to me – why can’t i see
that there’s somethin’ here
it was light out then sun set in
got lost in the nightfall
i thought i knew how to guide my life
now it’s you that i call
moonbeam take my hand
moonbeam guide me home
moonbeam stay by me
don’t me leave alone
it is nighttime and it’s dark
help me find a little spark
a hope a dream at sundown seems
i can’t even start
there’s a purpose in all things
i know because i feel
there’s light before the shadow’s cast
i know you are real
moonbeam take my hand
moonbeam guide me home
moonbeam stay by me
don’t me leave alone
moonbeam took my hand
i am not alone
i'm amongst the stars
i am finally home
©2016janetaylor
Jun 2, 2016
Jun 2, 2016 at 6:25 AM UTC
moonbeams shone
through the undrawn curtains
and danced goodnight kisses on
your skin
and in that moment
I swear I wanted nothing
more than to retrace the
moonlight's delicate footsteps
with my cracked needy lips
and fragile soul
May 23, 2013
May 23, 2013 at 3:25 AM UTC
Finishing off a hot brew @ 5am before jogging to the gym.
Better yet ...
easing awake slowly
breathing in your morning dew
tracing your curves slumbering
between soft white cotton layers
spurred by your dreamy smile
as your cheek slumbers
atop goose-down clouds,
shifting closer
warm fingers search
cold toes tangle
backs arch
hips align
quiet eyes
embrace
to slowly awaken
our quiet space,
lips speak
of softness
cool whispers
and
warm currents
as nerves tingle
and shift atop
our navel's view
as we fall deep
into our fold.
...
time flips
as we slide
to sip
our hot brew
for 2.
As our morning roasted scent
glistens in the sun
we skip and stumble
through the day
sipping its treats
its gifts of torrents
and waves of time
to taste your full body shine.
Your whole body blooms
as you smile bright
your petals expand
eyes swoon.
As your smile widens
lifting you off the ground
tendrils shiver
fingers flicker
slivers of light
reveal what’s found.
Our touch tightens
as we enter the night
a moonbeam smiles
winds drift blue
skipping into slumber,
your tired eyes float
smiles relax
your body slows
knowing it’s comfort
exploring our intimate space,
its unknown intensity
a deep hue blue
of letting go
and holding on.
...
May 10, 2018
May 10, 2018 at 2:08 AM UTC
deliciously ruined
poor little human
crying her eyes out in hurt
remnant from great things
image of great kings
kicked up by wind like the dirt
they say who you are is deep down within
but i’m right here, can’t you see
it’s disgusting
one can’t devise the nature of light
without all the ugly to shape and define
so please don’t blame me if my soul’s
a bit dusty
moonbeams are just dead skin glowing
who we are 's just dead skin going
on and on and on again
to a place where the night-lights never end
moonbeams are just dead skin gleaming
who we are 's just dead skin screaming
over and over and over again
why won't the night-lights ever end?
it's funny how the things that are odd
creepy and macabre
are the things we dare call the face of God
if we end up gone
for once just be wrong
seek beauty in horror you stumble upon
write them in poems
a lyric of song
and throw off the angels by singing along
moonbeams are just dead skin glowing
who we are 's just dead skin going
on and on and on again
to a place where the night-lights never end
moonbeams are just dead skin gleaming
who we are 's just dead skin screaming
over and over and over again
why won't the night-lights ever end?
it's funny how the things that are odd
creepy and macabre
are the things we dare call the face of God
and when all is said
everyone is dead
so why won’t they call me a moonbeam instead?
if i’m a moonbeam
and you’re a moonbeam
why can’t a moonbeam be the face of God?
Apr 10, 2020
Apr 10, 2020 at 10:05 PM UTC
A white horse
body armor
a fire-breathing dragon
a sword
a Knight
a Warrior
a Prince
a Lover….He is…
**A lady
in waiting
her love my destiny
her desire
my need**
That connection of the heart, of the soul…
of each breath…. just breathe, deep feelings,
trust of the heart, the essence of each soul touching,
blending, combining, linking, joining, connecting,
entwining, merging together, deep feelings….Love…
a Knight, a Warrior, a Prince, a Lover…. He is….
**she is the faith I have lived
each day hoping
she is the horizon
come closer be real
and it is her
which essence takes
as truth and honesty**
Dreams, serenity, peacefulness, that calm feeling of
tranquility, that connection of the heart, of the soul…
hope and faith, trust and love, those deep feelings,
stardust sparkles and moonbeam glimmers, fireflies,
soft kisses, gentle embrace’s, finger traces….Love…
a Knight, a Warrior, a Prince, a Lover…. He is….
**depths of hearts are lethal
and mine has been broken died
now in her eyes
words of future
peace
arise
take wing
on Angels
make beauty
real
and on that
glimpse I breathe**
That connection of the heart, of the soul…
a quaint riverbed, big oak trees, leaves singing
a gentle breeze, the moon, stars the sun, hearts embrace,
souls collide touching deep inside, mornin giggles,
toast and jam, moon pies, warmth and hot coffee….
forehead kisses, lips brushing the shoulder and…Love…
**That word she knew that
promise that thought
the knowing
the sublime connection
I saw her there
giggling sweet
coffee and normal things
my dream**
A white horse
body armor
a fire breathing dragon
a sword
a Knight
a Warrior
a Prince
a Lover…My Heart…He is…
~
**A lady
in waiting
her love my destiny
her desire
my need**
Oct 12, 2017
Oct 12, 2017 at 8:56 PM UTC
I.
In youth I have known one with whom the Earth
In secret communing held—as he with it,
In daylight, and in beauty, from his birth:
Whose fervid, flickering torch of life was lit
From the sun and stars, whence he had drawn forth
A passionate light such for his spirit was fit—
And yet that spirit knew—not in the hour
Of its own fervor—what had o’er it power.
II.
Perhaps it may be that my mind is wrought
To a ferver by the moonbeam that hangs o’er,
But I will half believe that wild light fraught
With more of sovereignty than ancient lore
Hath ever told—or is it of a thought
The unembodied essence, and no more
That with a quickening spell doth o’er us pass
As dew of the night-time, o’er the summer grass?
III.
Doth o’er us pass, when, as th’ expanding eye
To the loved object—so the tear to the lid
Will start, which lately slept in apathy?
And yet it need not be—(that object) hid
From us in life—but common—which doth lie
Each hour before us—but then only bid
With a strange sound, as of a harp-string broken
T’ awake us—’Tis a symbol and a token—
IV.
Of what in other worlds shall be—and given
In beauty by our God, to those alone
Who otherwise would fall from life and Heaven
Drawn by their heart’s passion, and that tone,
That high tone of the spirit which hath striven
Though not with Faith—with godliness—whose throne
With desperate energy ‘t hath beaten down;
Wearing its own deep feeling as a crown.
2.9k
Ripened by night
the profound sea,
as a huge archaic mirror
embracing a pasture for reflected star
Beneath the stage of luminous enthusiasm,
wavelessly rising your meditation,
which unrequitedly falling in love
with the moonbeam
Withering somber luna,
as the faint Cupid
shooting an arrow of ice
into an auroral mirage
with shining rosiness
Ought to feel out eternity
the lily wings, finally
turned out to be the feeble oar
knocking the ebb rootlessly
Affection
inexhaustible braveness and endless scrupulousness
But what are these amongst us? -
The tacit contract
between sunrise and seaside;
also the blurry distance
between darkness and dreamland
Mar 7, 2013
Mar 7, 2013 at 3:39 PM UTC
Wasn't all that long ago,
I stood within the glen.
I beheld a giant Daffodil,
atop a ten foot stem.
Over top the petals did,
come to my ear music sweet.
Curiosity did send me up,
climbing those ten tall feet.
Reaching the top I did peek
and see a wondrous sight.
Each one playing a small flute,
five in all, wee little Sprites.
Upon seeing me they did cease,
the music that drew me there.
In harmony they spoke out,
"It's about time you got here"!
That they knew me, did surprise.
That they were waiting, even more.
When one did offer me a flute,
I jumped through a magic door.
Suddenly, I did change.
Was tiny, with gossamer wings.
I wore a gown of moonbeam dust
and could make that flute sing.
A band of sisters, six were we.
Playing music that makes you sigh.
Within a mystic Daffodil,
atop a stem ten feet high.
Jun 30, 2010
Jun 30, 2010 at 9:34 PM UTC
Touch me like I am,
a moonbeam of delight.
A sky diamond no flaws,
a flashback through time.
Seek solace in midnight memories,
a weight in golden worth.
Arrest me make the suggest,
to hold me in utter nakedness.
Pretty dancer whiskey bottle,
phone on repeat dead line.
Custody danger never to be seen,
another round null no sound.
Constance in the coffee shop,
scouting out potentials.
Blows off steam outside church walls,
ringing bells magical three tolls.
Great thinkers diseased,
malady of souls.
Faking it 'til they make it,
open your eyes.
Sorrows of another night,
off the wagon.
Pick you up,
lost cause.
*Judas.
Judas.
Judas.*
Desperation,
a blinded soul.
© Sia Jane
May 9, 2014
May 9, 2014 at 6:58 PM UTC
Amethyst dew drop
Eyelash down
Full lip up-turned
Pink, glossy, round
Glitzy green sheen
On my half moon lid
Prism bright stud
Like the Luxor crown
Slightly levitating
Pierced, royal, proud
Skin luminating
Glowing from within
Golden, honey, brown sugar
Streams of gold and brown
I dance like a moonbeam
I dance like the sun
I dance like a star in flight
I dance on the run
I won't let a single man
Take this glow from me
He did it once
He did it twice
Three times
Shame on me
Feb 22, 2013
Feb 22, 2013 at 12:53 AM UTC
Finishing off a hot brew @ 5am before jogging to the gym.
Better yet ...
breathing in your morning dew
tracing your curves slumbering
between soft white Pima layers
spurred by your dreamy smile
your fingertips dance
atop goose down clouds
shifting closer
to align our curve
toes tangle the cold
quiet eyes embrace
to awaken our space
seeking new warmth
nerves tingle and shift
aligning our navel's view
and falling in
to our fold.
... and then a hot brew for 2.
Taking in the day’s treats
as we stumble over its gift of time
and your full body shine.
Easing into moonbeam’s slumber
exploring intimate space,
unknown intensity
with a slow ease
of letting go
to move on.
...
Whew, wait, what was the question?
Sorry, I got lost in there, for our moment.
Apr 9, 2018
Apr 9, 2018 at 12:41 PM UTC
Once upon a time paradox
There was a king in a castle of rocks
The castle was tall and to all who saw
It shined and shimmered by light by Law
The king was happy until his vice
Showed him a castle of rocks could not suffice
The reason this castle needed to change
Was because of the House of Endless Strange
The house shined so great the king shielded his eyes
He secretly hoped it was all lies
He ordered his men to work so fast
So he could have a castle of glass
The workers watched their hands turned red
As the king’s greed was joyfully fed
The castle complete from tip to feet was seen
To shine and shimmer by light by moonbeam
But the cost of this king’s vice
Was to be paid in an unforeseen price
He went to war with neighboring lands
And the catapult launched stones to every man
He did the same to the House of Endless Strange
And they smiled at the stones he gave
To react they attacked to throw the rocks back
And SMACK! The glass cracked since it lacked
The ability to not crumble
Under every rock that made it tumble
The king was to rebuild his castle, you see
To the castle it was once to be
Once upon a time paradox
There was a king in a castle of rocks ...
Dec 18, 2013
Dec 18, 2013 at 10:45 PM UTC
I am barely a mineral now, not yet a woman in the ground,
not yet growing gardens and begging people to cook my peppers.
My home is dizzy from my constant re-entry, which helps me to cheat,
in life I am looking for the harvest in people. I am a thread of cotton pulling
every word like it is more porous than the next, which helps me.
I summersault through conversations rather read in sharpie,
on the last corner white space of bathroom stalls,
alone and blushed. I remember love like a tagline inviting a smile
and messages to strangers. When I look in the mirror I am always inhaling,
my mouth says O, O I am out of excuses. I tell everyone I’m tired of working,
which helps me to hide in my comet ways. I am tight-lined,
which is to say I feel love on the hairs of my arms, the wind,
the blades of fans speak to me at night when I have nothing left to say.
I am licensed to moving. In the dark in the cities public spaces and
also in alleyways I am soft like a moonbeam. I am convinced the world is a sewer,
which helps me to explain the exchange of waste and skin and the secrets hidden
in tunnels of shadows. When I move the world blurs with me like a heartbeat.
I am underground like the sewer, rotten in negative spaces, which helps me,
to hear the echo ripple swish of every piece of trash call my name.
I have no response. Some days the world is too ***** One day I will learn
to quilt and stitch together every important face, which will help me
to remember my grandmother and how she loved to balloon to the sky.
I dream she is a large magellanic cloud beaming out of the universe, the force
of believing is the word Hallelujah sung from the lips of Leonard Cohen.
It is midnight. It is noon. I close my eyes for a second and I see myself as miles
from the moon. I am running every day now and there is nothing left to see. My heart
is a kitchen door swinging and it does not want to stop.
Sep 20, 2012
Sep 20, 2012 at 12:30 AM UTC
Dear wee moth
tiny velvet life
what are you to me?
You are a tickle on the air
a fluttering moonbeam whisper
child of Icarus
always in danger
reminder of all that's brief.
Dear wee moth
tiny velvet life
what am I to you?
Another giant of death
or some strange mountain?
Do you fear me?
Let's be honest little moth
to you I am nothing.
Jul 31, 2015
Jul 31, 2015 at 10:42 AM UTC