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"moonlit" poems
you are the soothing hum the grass stains on my jeans the summer in my hair the color in my cheeks you are the the constant wave beating against my heart the warm honey on my lips the paint on my nails you are the perfect dance and a moonlit ride the sticky vanilla cream you are the flower in my palm the reason I smile the chills down my spine you are more than you'll ever know you are the love of my life
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Apr 22, 2010
Apr 22, 2010 at 7:32 PM UTC
honey lover
In That Moonlit Night Standing In The Abaft, Watching The Towed Flaccid Wooden Raft, I Thought That I Saw An Angel Resting, Lying Exhausted There In That Craft. I Call The Girl Out Unbeknownst Of Her Kind Name, "Hey Young Lady!!" To Which She Didn't Much Respond, She Looked Up Towards Me Once In Anguish & Collapsed, I See Desperation In Her Amber Eyes & Resolve To Help Her. The Crewmen Had Now Been Doing The Paddles After Resting, I Summon My Captain & Ask, "Do You See That Girl In The Raft?" The Senile Captain Smiles To Say, "Commodore, Better Get Married," I Look Just Clueless To Which He Simply Replies, "There Is No Girl." True He Was As She Had Simply Disappeared, I Started Thinking Of My Sleep Needs That Day, I Looked Around Again In A Hope To Find The Girl, I Had Compromised My Routine As The Commodore. Then I Immediately Realized It Was My Wild Phantasm, Now This Was Just A Plain Illusion Of A Tired Sailor's Mind, No Mermaids Could Have Ever Existed In Reality & Were Fake, I Turned Towards The Deck To Go Back To My Bunk For Sleeping. As I Climbed Down The Stairs To Enter My Room Amazed & Dazed, I Saw Her Standing And Waiting For Me By The Side Of My Bunk, I Accepted That Delusion Of My Mind & Started To Lie Down, She Said, "I'm As Real As Your Thoughts, Don't Fear Me." She & I-Me & Her, Had The Best Time That Night, In The Morning She Was Gone & Was Just Gone, Disappeared Into Thin Air While I Was Asleep, Each Day I So Dearly Long For Her To Return.
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Nov 28, 2012
Nov 28, 2012 at 2:06 AM UTC
Angel?
In That Moonlit Night Standing In The Abaft, Watching The Towed Flaccid Wooden Raft, I Thought That I Saw An Angel Resting, Lying Exhausted There In That Craft. I Call The Girl Out Unbeknownst Of Her Kind Name, "Hey Young Lady!!" To Which She Didn't Much Respond, She Looked Up Towards Me Once In Anguish & Collapsed, I See Desperation In Her Amber Eyes & Resolve To Help Her. The Crewmen Had Now Been Doing The Paddles After Resting, I Summon My Captain & Ask, "Do You See That Girl In The Raft?" The Senile Captain Smiles To Say, "Commodore, Better Get Married," I Look Just Clueless To Which He Simply Replies, "There Is No Girl." True He Was As She Had Simply Disappeared, I Started Thinking Of My Sleep Needs That Day, I Looked Around Again In A Hope To Find The Girl, I Had Compromised My Routine As The Commodore. Then I Immediately Realized It Was My Wild Phantasm, Now This Was Just A Plain Illusion Of A Tired Sailor's Mind, No Mermaids Could Have Ever Existed In Reality & Were Fake, I Turned Towards The Deck To Go Back To My Bunk For Sleeping. As I Climbed Down The Stairs To Enter My Room Amazed & Dazed, I Saw Her Standing And Waiting For Me By The Side Of My Bunk, I Accepted That Delusion Of My Mind & Started To Lie Down, She Said, "I'm As Real As Your Thoughts, Don't Fear Me." She & I-Me & Her, Had The Best Time That Night, In The Morning She Was Gone & Was Just Gone, Disappeared Into Thin Air While I Was Asleep, Each Day I So Dearly Long For Her To Return.
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28
BLESSED be this place, More blessed still this tower; A ****** arrogant power Rose out of the race Uttering, mastering it, Rose like these walls from these Storm-beaten cottages -- In mockery I have set A powerful emblem up, And sing it rhyme upon rhyme In mockery of a time HaIf dead at the top. Alexandria's was a beacon tower, and Babylon's An image of the moving heavens, a log-book of the sun's journey and the moon's; And Shelley had his towers, thought's crowned powers he called them once. I declare this tower is my symbol; I declare This winding, gyring, spiring treadmill of a stair is my ancestral stair; That Goldsmith and the Dean, Berkeley and Burke have travelled there. Swift beating on his breast in sibylline frenzy blind Because the heart in his blood-sodden breast had dragged him down into mankind, Goldsmith deliberately sipping at the honey-pot of his mind, And haughtier-headed Burke that proved the State a tree, That this unconquerable labyrinth of the birds, cen- tury after century, Cast but dead leaves to mathematical equality; And God-appointed Berkeley that proved all things a dream, That this pragmatical, preposterous pig of a world, its farrow that so solid seem, Must vanish on the instant if the mind but change its theme; Saeva Indignatio and the labourer's hire, The strength that gives our blood and state magnani- mity of its own desire; Everything that is not God consumed with intellectual fire. III The purity of the unclouded moon Has flung its atrowy shaft upon the floor. Seven centuries have passed and it is pure, The blood of innocence has left no stain. There, on blood-saturated ground, have stood Soldier, assassin, executioner. Whether for daily pittance or in blind fear Or out of abstract hatred, and shed blood, But could not cast a single jet thereon. Odour of blood on the ancestral stair! And we that have shed none must gather there And clamour in drunken frenzy for the moon. IV Upon the dusty, glittering windows cling, And seem to cling upon the moonlit skies, Tortoiseshell butterflies, peacock butterflies, A couple of night-moths are on the wing. Is every modern nation like the tower, Half dead at the top? No matter what I said, For wisdom is the property of the dead, A something incompatible with life; and power, Like everything that has the stain of blood, A property of the living; but no stain Can come upon the visage of the moon When it has looked in glory from a cloud.
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36.9k
Blood And The Moon
BLESSED be this place, More blessed still this tower; A ****** arrogant power Rose out of the race Uttering, mastering it, Rose like these walls from these Storm-beaten cottages -- In mockery I have set A powerful emblem up, And sing it rhyme upon rhyme In mockery of a time HaIf dead at the top. Alexandria's was a beacon tower, and Babylon's An image of the moving heavens, a log-book of the sun's journey and the moon's; And Shelley had his towers, thought's crowned powers he called them once. I declare this tower is my symbol; I declare This winding, gyring, spiring treadmill of a stair is my ancestral stair; That Goldsmith and the Dean, Berkeley and Burke have travelled there. Swift beating on his breast in sibylline frenzy blind Because the heart in his blood-sodden breast had dragged him down into mankind, Goldsmith deliberately sipping at the honey-pot of his mind, And haughtier-headed Burke that proved the State a tree, That this unconquerable labyrinth of the birds, cen- tury after century, Cast but dead leaves to mathematical equality; And God-appointed Berkeley that proved all things a dream, That this pragmatical, preposterous pig of a world, its farrow that so solid seem, Must vanish on the instant if the mind but change its theme; Saeva Indignatio and the labourer's hire, The strength that gives our blood and state magnani- mity of its own desire; Everything that is not God consumed with intellectual fire. III The purity of the unclouded moon Has flung its atrowy shaft upon the floor. Seven centuries have passed and it is pure, The blood of innocence has left no stain. There, on blood-saturated ground, have stood Soldier, assassin, executioner. Whether for daily pittance or in blind fear Or out of abstract hatred, and shed blood, But could not cast a single jet thereon. Odour of blood on the ancestral stair! And we that have shed none must gather there And clamour in drunken frenzy for the moon. IV Upon the dusty, glittering windows cling, And seem to cling upon the moonlit skies, Tortoiseshell butterflies, peacock butterflies, A couple of night-moths are on the wing. Is every modern nation like the tower, Half dead at the top? No matter what I said, For wisdom is the property of the dead, A something incompatible with life; and power, Like everything that has the stain of blood, A property of the living; but no stain Can come upon the visage of the moon When it has looked in glory from a cloud.
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69
The emptiness in my eyes, The truth behind my lies, The fall before my rise, And the goodbyes; It scares me. The dark beneath my skin, The light within my sins, The voice that loudly sings, And my broken wings; It scares me. The wounds I can't heal, The pain I can't feel, The loss I can't deal, And when I am real; It scares me. The silence in my little talks, The stillness in my moonlit walks, The thought of separate ways, And my numbered days; It scares me. The demons under my bed, The words spinning in my head, The blood in my sweat, And my cold breath; It scares me. -Paras Bajaj #PoetrybyParas Instagram : @mr.parasbajaj
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Jan 19, 2019
Jan 19, 2019 at 12:45 AM UTC
It Scares Me
Our  own meeting has no end , no outer shell, it does not float. It only searches within its depths to find a bottom to pitch its anchor and looses itself within the  colours of an ever changing earth. Without air it gets carried away and shines like a fire, unquenched and remote from evil tongues and envious eyes. Ostracizing dark thoughts and delighting within its womb. It remembers from always and lives on  forever and within the moonlit dust it travels upon wings. An aura which is immaterial and wonders intoxicated it sings you an icy lullaby..
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Nov 7, 2014
Nov 7, 2014 at 4:07 PM UTC
OUR MEETING
Well when you're Green, I will be your Brown. Like the earth that loves the flowers, I'll will be your solid ground. And I'll be your Azure, when you are Verdigris. We'll be thee most beautiful ocean that eyes have ever seen. And when you're Black, I'll be your White. Mixing all of the colors … I'll make everything alright. Now when you're Blue, I'll be your Red. If something should make you wanna cry, I will feel your pain instead. And I'll be your Orange, whenever you are Pink. We'll be thee most amazing sunset, that the sky could ever ink. And when you're Black, I'll be your White. I'll mix all of your colors … and make everything alright. Should you be Violet, I will be your Beige. Like a sleepy moonlit desert, pastelled in dunes and Sage. And when you're Gray, I will be your Rainbow. We'll be thee most soothing rainstorm the world has ever known. And when you're Black, I'll be your White. I'll mix all of your colors … yes, I'll make everything alright. With love on my palette, painting a glorious sunrise … I'll color all your mornings with a smile and brighten up your skies. If you should find yourself in sorrow from someones hate or lies … I'll take the stars down from the heavens … and paint them in your eyes. So whenever you are Black, I will always be your White. I'll mix all your colors with a promise … everything will be alright. Yes, I'll mix all of your colors with a promise … Everything's gonna be alright.
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Mar 30, 2018
Mar 30, 2018 at 7:51 AM UTC
Colors
*Goodnight father Goodnight sun Goodnight detestability of day and enjoyment of all things costly and fun Goodnight to you And goodnight to me Goodnight dear bed frame and thank you for this, your stability Goodnight my pillow Goodnight my bed Goodnight and would you carry me, over the moon and back again? Goodnight to you, to these honest things, which I may or may not mind first thing in the morning Goodnight my distant memories And goodnight to my favorite mystery, to your quiet and kind consistencies For it’s a good night I offer, honestly A good night from another A goodnight from me Goodnight my father Goodnight to your son Goodnight moonlit stars and spinning earth Though the turning therein has just begun Goodnight my Lord, goodnight and please, watch over those in need of sleep Goodnight my God, a good night to you Good night you have been, good to me*
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Apr 14, 2017
Apr 14, 2017 at 2:10 AM UTC
Goodnight
They drove me across the country, from the busy city where we departed to intimate villages where they recessed, and spent a star filled, moonlit night singing songs, their bodies casting long, wavy shadows from campfires they huddled around. Just as I got too cold and my wheels couldn't turn anymore did they finally turn the spark plugs, revving and igniting my despair and sensitivity producing heat. Sometimes they pushed until I shoved and scraped my rubber on asphalt, on rocks, on sand, on boulders big and small, and I hit a flat-line; the air I could hold in no longer. They rode me into a forest whose undergrowth was as thick as a bears' fur during the winter, and redwood that spanned the horizon you thought it could pat the constellations. A forest teeming with life that one would react like Wendy from Peter Pan-- never wanting to leave Neverland. And I could see it in their soft faces and squinting eyes, bright and lit up with joy, every detail apparent as if I burst my headlights into high-beam, directly on them. It was there I ran out of gas and my engines parched for oil, from the endless adventure that was exhilarating and memorable. One could, as a result, easily forget responsibilities. There was no service or refill station nearby, so I was abandoned where I parked, flat tires, rusty hood, broken chassis, dilapidated suspension. I've proved my worth from when I was brought in and over time it wasn't enough. Only repairing, never maintaining.
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Dec 15, 2014
Dec 15, 2014 at 2:11 AM UTC
The Walking Engine
This distance between you and me, Feels like it's half a world and it just might be. Wherever you are, or ever might go Know that I'm still waiting for you. Waiting to hold your hand in mine, Embrace your sweet skin in my arms. I wait for the day. Beyond the frosted glass there you are, Touch you I could not, If I called you couldn't hear. With no visible way of interaction, Hope is lost for an ever after, And my heart overweight. I wait for the day. Keep looking forward to the day we meet For the light in our eyes shall brighten the sky again, Move on forward and destiny might plan the day When both our paths entwine and merge Oh glorious day that day will be. Forever and ever after might be written on my sheet. I'll definitely wait for that day. I'll patiently wait for that day When we can indulge in our time, Go through life together like a game By earning achievements and ranks. Grow old together and gross our kin With the passion and love we share. Oh how I keep waiting for the day. When I see you out in the distance Dashing as anyone could be Not long now until we meet And say hello and I'd love to spend my time with you, Laugh and cuddle together under the mellow moon, Watch the meteor shower and end the night with a kiss. I've been waiting for the day. Lights go out and the day turns into night. A hint of light coming from a corner The curtains open and unveil I'm all alone in the moonlit night, Thinking about the days I lie waiting for you.
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Nov 10, 2012
Nov 10, 2012 at 7:00 PM UTC
Waiting
*Casting spells in a song of lust with such beauty undenied. He's chased her half a lifetime and have lost but all his pride. Sailing all the oceans blue He's left his ship dashed on the rocks. Begging for that enchanted kiss from his mermaid as she mocks. Her voice to call within a gale scent heady upon the waves. Nets shredded trying to capture her yet every night he craves. To nary catch a fleeting glimpse of her golden hair or tail. He's chased her 'cross the storming seas as winds and rain did wail. Forever calling out her name He's come to rest in every port. On moonlit nights he hears her song attempts to see her, she does thwart. The scent of salt does show his years but still he sails to her song. Forever on the shifting waves is where his heart belongs.*
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Aug 3, 2017
Aug 3, 2017 at 9:36 AM UTC
A Sailor's Tale
It happened in the dark of the night, Scrolling through a story line my attention was caught by a picture, She carried a wondrous smile, bright and very warm and inviting, In response I began to smile as well, beaming in the somber night, Though my smile was not a mirror, it was distorted, yet brighter, I soon understood that my body wanted me to carry on, shine on, Not stopping despite having no reason to grin I began to chuckle, The moonlit night had turned crimson, yet it was more luminous, Was it because of my means, my very purpose of being a bound, Bound to time and fate that I couldn't recall to stop smirking ? Or was it the blooming of a flower in this phantomed moonlight ? I must've stopped asking questions, of transient content, Because, they would ruin the beauty of this contagious expression, Ending up losing the track of time or any means whatsoever, I fell asleep by the melody of the wind, as itecho's through the valley, Even if tomorrow were never to arrive, I wouldn't care less, For now, just let me rest my eyes. ~ Umi
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May 5, 2018
May 5, 2018 at 6:17 PM UTC
Smile
I want to lay in bed with you No thoughts of *** Racing through my body But the only thought I'll allow tonight Is the thought of holding you Under every moonlit lullaby And let stars watch with full smiles As they witness my love for you grow I don't care what the world has I say I'd rather you call me your teddy bear Than they'll know I'm not in it for the *** The royal treatment is for you And this late night cuddle session Is only the beginning Because tonight I'm going to show you That even with my weakness I'll protect you through the night I'll be your dream catcher Your luck rabbits foot And chase away the worries of tomorrow I'll cuddle concrete I'll cuddle rose pedals But nothing in this world Could ever amount to the roaring passion I can ever feel When its your heart and soul I cuddle with Your my yesterday My every day tomorrow And the last thing I want to embrace When I fall asleep thinking of you This late night cuddle session Isn't over because I'll hold you Till the moon and sun decide to collide I love you like teddy bears love cuddling And theirs nothing this teddy bear loves more Than loving you
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Oct 9, 2014
Oct 9, 2014 at 2:27 AM UTC
Late Night Cuddle Session
You always look past me, I'm dancing right here, Why can't you see me? You never look at me! Always, I'm dreaming of you. Look just a little beyond your Past.  She's gone.  You will see Me standing here. Waiting for your smile. I'm dreaming dreams of you and me, Dancing, under a palm tree, on a moonlit night Right before the dawn's bright light, Here, holding me in your strong arms tonight. Why can't you turn your head a little? Can't you say hello to me? You are always looking beyond me. Who do you See instead of Me? © 2014 Ronald J Chapman All Rights Reserved.
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Dec 1, 2014
Dec 1, 2014 at 11:26 AM UTC
Crush
Jellicle Cats come out tonight, Jellicle Cats come one come all: The Jellicle Moon is shining bright— Jellicles come to the Jellicle Ball. Jellicle Cats are black and white, Jellicle Cats are rather small; Jellicle Cats are merry and bright, And pleasant to hear when they caterwaul. Jellicle Cats have cheerful faces, Jellicle Cats have bright black eyes; They like to practise their airs and graces And wait for the Jellicle Moon to rise. Jellicle Cats develop slowly, Jellicle Cats are not too big; Jellicle Cats are roly-poly, They know how to dance a gavotte and a jig. Until the Jellicle Moon appears They make their toilette and take their repose: Jellicles wash behind their ears, Jellicles dry between their toes. Jellicle Cats are white and black, Jellicle Cats are of moderate size; Jellicles jump like a jumping-jack, Jellicle Cats have moonlit eyes. They’re quiet enough in the morning hours, They’re quiet enough in the afternoon, Reserving their terpsichorean powers To dance by the light of the Jellicle Moon. Jellicle Cats are black and white, Jellicle Cats (as I said) are small; If it happens to be a stormy night They will practise a caper or two in the hall. If it happens the sun is shining bright You would say they had nothing to do at all: They are resting and saving themselves to be right For the Jellicle Moon and the Jellicle Ball.
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11.3k
The Song Of The Jellicles
A moonlit dance beneathe constellations       not Taurus or Gemini, Delphinus or Orion                  but stars we named together                    linking lines from star to star        hands pointing in air so cold a tear falls and                            another   leaving a roadmap on my cheeks             that you                             chase                                        chase                                                   chase             lifting the palm of your hand                  so cold to the touch I shiver             feeling the beauty of my tears          that glisten like Venus in the midnight sky              of this cold Parisian night   you smile in jest and      I misplace the space   between you and I and that sky   whispering "do you love me?"     how could I resist the beauty of                  our second to last kiss. © Sia Jane
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Apr 28, 2015
Apr 28, 2015 at 7:24 PM UTC
Centaurus
*I Fell In Love With You I fell in love with you slowly, syllable by syllable, word by word, poem by poem imagining the moon’s dancing affair with stars, twinkle by twinkle. And then all at once like the explosion of a super nova affecting distant galaxies and down to my very soul. ~~~ I fell in love with you gently, the way a dew drop glistens in the morning sun, the way a flower often opens to a moonlit song. ~~~ But like all love worth holding, it turns to fire- raging, uncontrolled, wild and consuming; you have become the flames dancing across my skin, smoldering brightly within my heart turning me into the sweet smell of ash. ~~~ I fell in love with you slowly then quickly, the way a meteor flashes as it skims across the night sky or hearts melt within an ******** sigh. I fell in love with you. Sorry. Aztec Warrior 12.4.15*
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Dec 4, 2015
Dec 4, 2015 at 3:36 PM UTC
POEM 99
The flame-red moon, the harvest moon, Rolls along the hills, gently bouncing, A vast balloon, Till it takes off, and sinks upward To lie on the bottom of the sky, like a gold doubloon. The harvest moon has come, Booming softly through heaven, like a bassoon. And the earth replies all night, like a deep drum. So people can't sleep, So they go out where elms and oak trees keep A kneeling vigil, in a religious hush. The harvest moon has come! And all the moonlit cows and all the sheep Stare up at her petrified, while she swells Filling heaven, as if red hot, and sailing Closer and closer like the end of the world. Till the gold fields of stiff wheat Cry 'We are ripe, reap us!' and the rivers Sweat from the melting hills.
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10k
The Harvest Moon
The Eid is bustling with joy come let’s give it a try f     l     y      away! To the deathless groovy paradise floating high on the elixir flow: The triumphant joyous wave streamed up from the secret bottom line!   Up above the lapis lazuli sky. A pair of butterfly basks in the sunlight quietly indulges in style. It goes on in slow motion illuminating the night a firefly perches on a slice of the Moon flanked by the moonlight. But you and me we will rhyme and chant in our lovely mother tongue. In the same original lingua like ‘Adam speaks up and all angels listen in paradise’. Come let’s give it a try f   l     y      away! On the wings of the moonlight we will s   a     i       l        away! Ambling by the Moon we'll **** through the starry nooks. Eyes open and gently perched atop a star for a moment or two. We will see miles of galaxies over the moonlit lakes of the blue playing cool ravishing lutes! The spring night is in bloom and the cute sleeping beauty wakes up playing the flute! Musical half lights filling the sky. Come let’s give it a try f   l     y      away! We’ll drink sharaban tahura the holy wine of paradise and once for all we will k i   s     s the death goodbye! Our story will fill the divine soil the heaven's flora and fauna each and everyone will shine on our page no houri will ever say finito singing our tale! As Adam did it first stunned the angels telling the nature of all things in paradise. We will do that once more without a smirk this time we will see the loving Creator!
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Aug 23, 2018
Aug 23, 2018 at 1:04 PM UTC
Eid Mubarak - Lets Fly Paradise
The Eid is bustling with joy come let’s give it a try f     l     y      away! To the deathless groovy paradise floating high on the elixir flow: The triumphant joyous wave streamed up from the secret bottom line!   Up above the lapis lazuli sky. A pair of butterfly basks in the sunlight quietly indulges in style. It goes on in slow motion illuminating the night a firefly perches on a slice of the Moon flanked by the moonlight. But you and me we will rhyme and chant in our lovely mother tongue. In the same original lingua like ‘Adam speaks up and all angels listen in paradise’. Come let’s give it a try f   l     y      away! On the wings of the moonlight we will s   a     i       l        away! Ambling by the Moon we'll **** through the starry nooks. Eyes open and gently perched atop a star for a moment or two. We will see miles of galaxies over the moonlit lakes of the blue playing cool ravishing lutes! The spring night is in bloom and the cute sleeping beauty wakes up playing the flute! Musical half lights filling the sky. Come let’s give it a try f   l     y      away! We’ll drink sharaban tahura the holy wine of paradise and once for all we will k i   s     s the death goodbye! Our story will fill the divine soil the heaven's flora and fauna each and everyone will shine on our page no houri will ever say finito singing our tale! As Adam did it first stunned the angels telling the nature of all things in paradise. We will do that once more without a smirk this time we will see the loving Creator!
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67
Moonlit sadness Silhouetted madness Hollowed out bones Marrow on the floor Blood soaked sheets Rotted flesh beneath Shaking fingers Guilty hands Breathless lungs Skies crowded with bodies hung *How can any of us breathe beneath this sky of subliminal madness?*
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Jan 20, 2015
Jan 20, 2015 at 12:12 PM UTC
Madness
***I saw the world through eyes of glass. Ghost, tall and thin. What I can't see, please tell me. - Little petals, white and rosy. Flying in your garden You really can't see the beauty in everything, I don't even think you can see me. ... But Cherry Blossom on a moonlit night***
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Apr 24, 2017
Apr 24, 2017 at 9:03 AM UTC
Cherry Blossom
(Villanelle) It takes patience to wait for the perfect light. Glance away and the image can disappear. And sometimes the background isn’t quite right. The moment missed is like a face out of sight That against all logic we hope will appear From around a corner, bathed in perfect light. Or a pause in the music on a moonlit night When hesitating lips touch, and love leans near, But voices whisper that something’s not right. Technology offers consolation in its sleight Of hand:  Digitally correct the analog *here And now*, counterfeit the perfect light. Yet we want more than the mastered byte. We want the flash between the waiting and the souvenir, The instant when self and spectacle fuse, reality felt right. And so we hold on to what’s passing out of sight, The collision between soon and too late, the sheer Thread connecting to the perfect light In which the background is precisely right.
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Jul 21, 2015
Jul 21, 2015 at 7:51 PM UTC
Photo Op
Time is moving In a stream of wonderous murderous intending, sacrificing sadness, My ****** devotion, ought to shed blood in a distorted dark was but an perishable spring dream, looping without an end through nights, On sleepless nights, the ghosts of the past gets stuck within a river of pure thoughts, a lake birthing memories in secret, subsconsciously, Discard your common sense, sacrifice your sanity for just this second, When the moon stands high in the sky, a bonfire seals the nights start To its creeping shadows, they do not crackor sparkle under the twinkling stars of this celestial ceiling of pure majesty for nyctophiles, Even our natural satelite agrees, dying itself into a lunatic scarlet red, Darkness upon darkness, with layers of shadows overlapping one another as the light begins to dim, thanks to the disappearing moon, An imaginated landscape, created from only pure rage and fury, But whereabouts of the heart, are likely to be lost to the thought of love I carry within a broken chest of treasury, losing all emotions, Even if my scarlet eyes were to be losing their ability yet to see, I would be able to count on you to guide me, through the everlasting, The dream I awoken from, was a moonlit night turning crimson, losing its radiance through the soft eclipse of the moon, gently, slowly But you were there, within the far away landscape drawn in my heart ~ Umi
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Mar 30, 2018
Mar 30, 2018 at 7:36 PM UTC
Overlapping Time
#(a travelogue) He stared down through the unbroken silence lapping the shoreline Water skippers dart around the rocks and windfall driftwood settled juxtaposed in cattail reeds and emerging broadleaf sprouts A petrified heartwood timber lie fallow waiting bare barked, hushed like a pining lover’s      timeworn love seat,      rubbed smooth as      the crystalline waters      of  half-moon lake Lingering for a while  ―   like a hidden stalker, a perched wildcat waiting for the full moon’s   swooning spell to saturate the thickening dusk quietude;      arousing the urgent      call of the wild — exhaled from the held breath of the wilderness nocturne     on half-moon lake The stillness was scattered with the soft downy hairs of the sleeping cattails,  and the newly shed catkins a spring gust bestrewed from a tall resin birch tree nigh the Sitka willows      He  sat  quietly ...      time out of mind ― tossing his eyes up into the sky; taking the time to read the stars ― catching  them  each  again as they fell into his gentle hands, to show him who he was Seeing their sparkly tracers   trail-out above the cattails,      from a distance they resembled falling stars unable to perceive their own renaissance ― plashing lightly upon the still-water      on half-moon lake A lone shadow glides stealthily near mid-tarn,.. swimming   enchantingly with the grace      of a blackswan Appearing to glance shoreward at the glowing low stars rise and fall, as his eyes twinkled skyward over      the moonlit lagoon ― heavenward of its moonlit ballet; the lone sleek dark shadow      slipping through      a faint circular ripple stirring the smooth as glass waters ―   disappearing like a fleeting moment      waning deep aneath      a subtle silent wake. When all the clear lines blurred, he knew it had been so long ...      but hearken ! … an interceding      long drawn out wail        echoed  a feral ache      across the stillness,      breaking the silence ― as the shadow reappeared;      his tears surrendered to the undulating call of the wild; he felt the spirit of the sole Loon,      as black and white      as the moonlit night, stir deeply in his wanting heart ―      lay bare the silence in lengthy yodeled psalms to the god of the moon Diving down deep yet again, keeping the light he’d been given, vanishing into the lifespring sanctuary of half-moon lake harlon rivers ... May 2018 travelogue: 4 of some more
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May 21, 2018
May 21, 2018 at 2:36 PM UTC
On half-moon lake ☽
#(a travelogue) He stared down through the unbroken silence lapping the shoreline Water skippers dart around the rocks and windfall driftwood settled juxtaposed in cattail reeds and emerging broadleaf sprouts A petrified heartwood timber lie fallow waiting bare barked, hushed like a pining lover’s      timeworn love seat,      rubbed smooth as      the crystalline waters      of  half-moon lake Lingering for a while  ―   like a hidden stalker, a perched wildcat waiting for the full moon’s   swooning spell to saturate the thickening dusk quietude;      arousing the urgent      call of the wild — exhaled from the held breath of the wilderness nocturne     on half-moon lake The stillness was scattered with the soft downy hairs of the sleeping cattails,  and the newly shed catkins a spring gust bestrewed from a tall resin birch tree nigh the Sitka willows      He  sat  quietly ...      time out of mind ― tossing his eyes up into the sky; taking the time to read the stars ― catching  them  each  again as they fell into his gentle hands, to show him who he was Seeing their sparkly tracers   trail-out above the cattails,      from a distance they resembled falling stars unable to perceive their own renaissance ― plashing lightly upon the still-water      on half-moon lake A lone shadow glides stealthily near mid-tarn,.. swimming   enchantingly with the grace      of a blackswan Appearing to glance shoreward at the glowing low stars rise and fall, as his eyes twinkled skyward over      the moonlit lagoon ― heavenward of its moonlit ballet; the lone sleek dark shadow      slipping through      a faint circular ripple stirring the smooth as glass waters ―   disappearing like a fleeting moment      waning deep aneath      a subtle silent wake. When all the clear lines blurred, he knew it had been so long ...      but hearken ! … an interceding      long drawn out wail        echoed  a feral ache      across the stillness,      breaking the silence ― as the shadow reappeared;      his tears surrendered to the undulating call of the wild; he felt the spirit of the sole Loon,      as black and white      as the moonlit night, stir deeply in his wanting heart ―      lay bare the silence in lengthy yodeled psalms to the god of the moon Diving down deep yet again, keeping the light he’d been given, vanishing into the lifespring sanctuary of half-moon lake harlon rivers ... May 2018 travelogue: 4 of some more
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/ One day, With the absence of my mind Ran to the river What might cause for getting the creeps I called out to her tune, Would draw the magnitude Which  made, A stream of love Reserved my chest with a colorful sailboat I was moving Along the unknown way with playing flute Then came one of the exotic path The distant villages, Then along the earthy way The meantime When I became tired, Have to rest In the shade of green Dropped the melody of birds Plucked the flowers, Hoped the song with flute Then suddenly I came to your home yard You heard my mystic songs And to be loved, Beloved--   Was filled with songs of bird Sky, Air, Meadows That earthy way Stars stood up   Filled the night sky The river grew with Silver Moon Yet Fill with the moonlight Follow the river down To My old boat along the moonlit / @Musfiq us shaleheen
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Jan 21, 2015
Jan 21, 2015 at 6:47 PM UTC
old boat along moonlit