Saturday, June 02, 2007

the chair
creaking audibly
knees and ankles

2 comments:

Poetry said...

The moon is gone.

She fled as dawn approached.




Dawn as a slowly opening eye.




White sea birds skimming over the water,

looking for an early morning snack.



The mirror brightens.


From a blood moon at dawn to a mirror

reflecting waking life...






#######



I woke her to take the moon.


Her campaign was swift and terrible.


Metallic and fierce.

Glaring up in the twilight.


But the moon was both implacable and unreachable

and in the end the war against the moon failed.

As dawn rose slowly from her bed, the moon slipped away.

But in the end, all that was lost,

was a little sleep....




################


1 June 2007



Burning Moon

Moon Fire

Blood Moon

smoked Moon

Smoky Moon

Smouldering Moon

4HisChurch said...

Thanks for stopping by. I like your poetry.