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Moon
Scars at
Saccarappa
Fa
lls
Factories
mock in sin the path where
the
brave chased salmon upstream,
fish
climbing rock falls where
brick
now crumbles under
flowers
and spring milk moon.
The
corn planting stalks soon cut
for
great armies that walked the seas,
fires
burning their huts into stone.
Blood
legends still dance in the flames,
for
the smoke to scar the moon.
©
2004 M.S.Leavitt
First
prize October Moon Contest
Moon
of my Mothers
In
the fullsome month
fields obscene with their largesse
animals fat and lazy
Forests beginning to preen
carpeting their floor
with nuts and fruit
fish hardly able to jump
for the flies buzzing over
The Sun glowing golden all over the land
My
mother called me forth to witness.
-
Boomerengue
First
prize October Moon Contest
Spoons
and assorted rhymes
And
walking outside to the inside
You
may see him walk inside to out
And
the man at the bar will say:
“You
see that guy there…”
and
he’ll tell you a tale from his own past
non
sequitur
And
you (if you’re me) will feel sorry for the bloke
You’ve
known people like that (you still do)
“It’s
true you know, they go mental at full moon”
She
said
And
the only thing he does is walk outside (from in)
Then
later come back in and order another pint.
“…but
you’ve got to watch out for ‘em
they
can turn funny”
So
you laugh (well I did)
And
it’s still sad.
Then
you’re home and requested
So
you look at the list and there it is.
And
it doesn’t just apply to June
Each
and every month (lunar)
[it’s
true you know]
they
have their own personal hot moon
[watch
out for ‘em]
new
crescent
quarter
half
gibbous
full
They
walk out, and back in.
gauchecritic
(04)
Long
Nights Moon
Holding a long night's sky above my head
Mother grunts, finding relief in moonlight
Just a marathon night away
26 hours long, through piercing pain and hope
As fine as our atmosphere hitting space
26 miles above
Breaking free, dropping into limitless void
I fall free
Apart from mother and earth
Into endlessly spinning life
~Peter Kalnin
My Moon
the
color pink
a
thing of my youth
a
pet frog
as
long gone as my liking for the color pink
i
don’t like planting things…..
but
no one’s perfect
~Ryan
Peart
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long
nights moon
sleepless
sister voyeur
fulsome
round to bursting
warm
me, light the madness
swallow
the sadness when
I
can suffer no more calm
no
more slivers of cold
~by
Sheryl Jones
Alaskan
Night
The
lack of you beside me
Is
as crisp and chill
As
the cold moon’s light
Glancing
off the everlasting snows
In
the land of my birth
I
know that dawn will come
To
melt this icy heart
But
until your promised return
I
find it most appropriate
To
be under the long nights moon.
~Belegon
Hot Moon
The
pink moon sets
on
wet grass and toes
Searching
for tiny wild strawberries
discovering
four leaf clover
Chipping
ice, pouring sugar and cream
turn
slushing wooden paddles
Watching
firefly frenzy from the porch
ice
cream drips onto baby-doll pajamas
~Charlyn
Reihman Peart
Approaching
my autumn,
Reflections
on my spring and summer
Wash
over me,
leaving
me in the golden glow
of
a Harvest Moon.
Reap
as ye sow, the elders tell
And
as I look, I see
The
tall, strong, full-grown stalks of my sowing,
My
children, my sons,
My
corn, my harvest. ~Matriarch
Hot
Moon
a
stifled moon rides
undulating hills
bathing my hunting path
Earth Mother
seeks mate
gathering heat rolling my hips
distracting porch-reclined men
who’ve come out
hoping to catch a whisper
but all they catch is their
breath
~by
Syndra Lynn
Culled
old moon
Wolf moon
stalking
patiently
reflecting prey
young strong bold
on the rise
Walking in his
shadow
I tremble
Old moon days
numbered
gray face dimming
awaits night
claws
cold slashing
light
~tungtied2u
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