Look, sister, moon rises and someone is weeping.
We know that mourning call, late in the night.
A sorrowed sigh of willows dip their faithful palms
Into puddle of shadow
Watching evenings painted beauty
Fall into fitful light of evening.
Golden eddies of sunset are covered
By shroud of silence that drops
Across the moon.
A woman in a sudden streetlight moment
And she comforts a chorus of caution
That wishes to be cried
And holds it in this waiting game.
It is black, but we are light
And our songs rise above dark timber
Echoes through valleys
Where the small and sorrowed curl.
Listen, sister, the moon, our sister
Smiles at us in our turning to tune
Fine knobs of need in night.
Author notes
Published in "Shhhhhh: A Creation Story"
In a list
A contest entry
- Picture Contest by Mein Nacht.
300 points, ended July 24, 2006, 6 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
What did you think
Comments
1 - 5 of 5
-
thank you Renee. I love to play with images. it is one of my favorite types of contests.
-
"Golden eddies of sunset are covered
By the shroud of silence that drops
Across the moon."
These lines are a poem all by themselves. BEAUTIFUL!
Your poem is ethereal. It sends chills down my spine. Your mixture of day and night, dark and light is outstanding. There is almost a dream-state to these well chosen, vivid words. I love this poem. Every stanza holds a different (but like) message, and image. You have captured the visual art well. The essence of the painter's work is shown through this solid poetry. Job well done Poet. I wish you the best in this challenge.
Much Love & Many Blessings ♥
Renee
-
something very deep and affirming struck me when I went to her page. The poem simply wrote itself. thanks penman.
-
excellent
What a tremendous spiritual verse and offering and great tribute to Wolfheart also. Love flows in the lines. It soothes and you can almost hear the moon! Great job. Good luck in the contest. -
astounding
I am speechless. This is the highest honor I have been blessed with in this life. This poem is is our mantra, dear one. I am astonished by your effort and humbled in your prescense. All the pain, all the sorrow were my refining fire. Now I am a person without rancor or judgement. I live only to touch with my words and share with those what wisdom and help I can. Thank you, dearest one - I am so moved.
hugs and love - WolfHeart
1 - 5 of 5





4 old applause
