"moonglade" poems
I reached into my chest
To free these sutures of moonglade
Reaching deep into the pulse
That is sinking into this still water
My boat, tethered to my hands
Cuts its ties, taking this heart
Deep into the moonlit sea
Apr 26, 2022
Apr 26, 2022 at 3:12 AM UTC
_They spoke to me of evenfall and dayspring, the solstice and the equinox. They sang of eras, epochs, and eons. On indigo nights, they whispered in the owl light of alchemy and enchantment, wreathing my cot with an iridescence which illuminated my dreams and begentled my slumber.
At Hallowtide, they scribed lyrical pathways in the air and sculpted rainbow arcs. They celebrated the vernal majesty of April and October's autumnal reprise with moonglade pageantry and sunset flourishes. They conjured blackberry winters and gypsy summers, and laughed at my amazement, as if to say: ‘Told you so!’
As the years departed my second decade and encroached alarmingly upon my third, I began to question why they had chosen me; why we walked together apart and apart together. I wondered where the magic ended and I began, and I realised with the bone-breaking chill of the unwelcome inevitable, just how lost I would be without it._
Sep 17, 2019
Sep 17, 2019 at 4:12 PM UTC
the bantering of rain
the insinuation it might snow
the mirage of moonglade
the mountain drink
the desert thirst
everything
resolves with flowers
a withered realm
a crestfallen kingdom
their copper queen withdrawing
from the bitter harvest
in the spirit of Persephone
everything
dissolves into flowers
Feb 14, 2020
Feb 14, 2020 at 7:16 PM UTC
Til twinkle pinkie rosebuds turn shrubbery so wild
wilder than the fume upon which the moonglade
climbs gloomy tide to make welcome of the night
until the little birds sing your name
then times be as happy as flame
One goldfinch and 3 white pigeons
a colourful macaw parrot and falconet
or the black crowncrane of large pinions
soul's fleeting harbinger of the lorikeet
type, as i await the little birds sing
The whole of my being approves
by the star shining in northerly clime
as in clinging on tight to a feeling so true
of grim death in moment so prime
until the birds vocalize your name
only then shall I not feel the disdain
Patience robs the clamouring chest
heels are still weary and cold in rest
and soon little birds send me tweets
by the dawn chorus of early birds' beats
shall one become happy and gay
Dec 25, 2014
Dec 25, 2014 at 2:47 AM UTC
There's petrichor in your coat
a moonglade for your gaze
I'll listen to psitherism
as I sense you pull away.
Feb 1, 2018
Feb 1, 2018 at 12:08 PM UTC
bring along your heart
face its fetters and fears
come to her, near and bare
turn to the moonglade, is there
what part has one played
of accountability and flight
lost in twilight and moment
that one cannot see, so torment
what is keeping you unfair
out of the love one deserves
be a master you love to serve
see how much of it unnerves
leave nostalgia of the past
as glowing path never go astray
is just one fallen heart away
to a place calling one to stay
Jul 7, 2018
Jul 7, 2018 at 8:45 AM UTC