Full Moon

You stand  here  in the silver moon light

You feel the magic of  time old

Washed in the tides ancient pull

Dancing freely in  night

Feeling free not cold

Sparkling not dull

You are  the

Full moon

Child.

This  is another poem  for “fullmoonsocial”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ri2CzfI84Wk

Dedicated  to  my  eldest  son.

Deliquescent moon
Slips below the horizon,
Melding with the sea.
#Haiku

Fullmoonsocial

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four feminine ducks
walking down the water’s plank
beginning ballet

mallard men passing
one behind the other
the line flows to the left

girls dancing far right
they must know what a line is
someone has cooties

females turn around
flowing next to manly men
forming two straight lines

someone’s husband
taking pictures of other ducks
not this cute ballet

foggy and hazy
eighty one yesterday
only seventy four

at eighty one
the pool was chilly but now
fearless man has jumped in

october warmth
sixty seven a few hours ago
no screaming

everyone is born
with the same pool conversation
inside their mind

a man jumps in
the answer is i’m very cold
asks you how you are

he says it will warm up
his son laughs and tells him
he is mistaken

that he saw her in
the pool ten minutes ago
“she would be warm now”

This is my offering for Jeff Schwaner’s “Full Moon Social” celebration.

October 8, 1914

Listen…
three silences
none harsher than your breath
dissipating into the night’s
bright mouth.

Later

Rainfall
and wind. How I
would like to have touched you
if only with words trembling from
my lips.

October 8, 2014

A moon
that we might share
from mountain to the sea
a gift belonging to no one
but you.

Adelaide Crapsey’s last full moon lit the skies on October 4, 1914. She died four days later, at age 36. A poet well ahead of her time, she created the American cinquain, a five-line form of 22 syllables which I have followed in these three poems.

I discovered only after-the-fact that the Full Moon Social Jeff Schwaner hosted on October 8, 2014 fell on the 100th anniversary of Adelaide’s death. These poems were written with that particular evening still looming…