Listen in Sorrow #birds #poetry #loss

happy you tend to the garden

waking me daily with song

bringing cheer never sorrow

I find myself singing along

*

more work is there in the morrow

gather and fashion a nest

complaints never are filed

rarely do you stop for a rest

*

little one out in the wet storm

no jacket to fend off the rain

grateful for your reminder

sun always follows the pain

*

I take my pen sadly to paper

to write about someone I love

gone toward braodened horizons

taken gently to heaven above

*

spring raindrops

birds joyful refrain

tears fall freely

Today at Poet’s United the prompt is Birds.

This haibun is lovingly written for my father-in-law Robert who left us today.

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Deep is Winter #poet #winter #sorrow #Akhmatova

Memory of the Sun

Memory of sun seeps from the heart.
Grass grows yellower.
Faintly if at all the early snowflakes
Hover, hover.

Water becoming ice is slowing in
The narrow channels.
Nothing at all will happen here again,
Will ever happen.

Against the sky the willow spreads a fan
The silk’s torn off.
Maybe it’s better I did not become
Your wife.

Memory of sun seeps from the heart.
What is it? — Dark?
Perhaps! Winter will have occupied us
In the night.

by Anna Akhmatova

Anna what would you say of your people’s strife in Ukraine today? You who understands such chilling silences and loud absences of loved ones. You speak of a winter that you know too well.

I am just learning about this Ukranian/ Russian poet.  Anna understood the pain of having a pen that spoke for her and those she loved died because of the ink that never got a chance to dry.

Her life is winter

icicles cling to the forlorn

 spring – an idea

*

Mdw

(out of love for Anna)

 On the 8th the world celebrates Woman’s Day. What better way to do so than to share the work of a strong poet who suffered much at the hand of communism. I share her words with Poet’s United as well.

Cold Shadow #atozchallenge #poetry #photography

imprint in the snow

crystalline shadow

cold leaves its mark

*

cold leaves its mark

covering fall’s scars

melted remains

*

melted remains

white blanket memory

imprint in the snow

 

the haiku cascade allows the poet to continue a thought while maintaining the quality of the haiku form.

****

“If a poet is anybody, he is somebody to whom things made matter very little – somebody who is obsessed by Making.
~e.e. cummings

 

As a writer/ poet what are you obsessed with making????

 

 

Each Written Word #poetry #photography

sculpture – Jean-Baptiste Carpeaux

Each word was a thread

an interwoven part

tears like dew drops

 from a broken heart

*

Each word was a plea

silent call to you

catching the phrase

before the wind it blew

*

Each word echoed love

tumbled in the waves

polished over time

waiting for the day

*

Each word a duet

a  poem in the dust

 inscribing now my fate

your embrace, I trust

*

Each word an inspiration

of stories that I live

 inked is the promise

etched upon my skin

*

While penning, what does a poet seek ~ Fame, understanding, love, expression?

This week’s Prompt from Verse First “Writer’s are lovers”

 “Writers are great lovers… and great lovers realize that they are what they love.” ~ Ginsberg

Dedicated to a  poet I have long revered

Photography is the © work of L. Moon 2013

Reliant on Memories #tribute #poetry #WW2

Reliant on memories

we never made

I was young

when laid in the grave

*

Reliant on memories

a girls first kiss

all the loves

that we would miss

*

Reliant on memories

the way I laughed

you’ll always have

don’t hold it back

*

Reliant on memories

a piece of me

will always stay

alive and free

*

Reliant on memories

will have to do

I will live on

because you made it through

***

My poem is in tribute to a poet and heroine  Hanna Szenes whose birthday is today.

Hanna a gifted poet was a brave young woman who believed in a cause. On March 1944 she parachuted into Yugoslavia on a mission to help rescue Hungarian Jews about to be deported to Auschwitz. She was caught on the Hungarian border and tortured (by the Germans) with the hope of gaining valuable information. Because she would not give information, they imprisoned her mother as well. While captive, she looked for ways (like a mirror) to send encouragement to fellow prisoners. Hanna was executed in November 1944 by a firing squad and remembered as a heroine of Israel. She was 23 at her death.

These are the words of one of her last poems:

Blessed is the match consumed in kindling flame

Blessed is the flame that burns in the secret fastness of the heart.

Blessed is the heart with strength to stop its beating for honor’s sake.

Blessed is the match consumed in kindling flame.

.

More about Hannah here.

Life less #pain #love #poetry

“yes I feel it too”

I said to no one

in caged, abysmal loneliness

every foot -step echoed a cadenced

“no turning back”

“all is gone”

“where did love go?”

“was it ever?”

when he looked in my eyes

did he embrace another?

daily I flogged my heart

that I might feel

for numbness had become

my closest ally

(friends had all but fled)

“what if death became

my final offering?”

it would have been your moment of celebratory height

(you play the martyr well)

now through this pain  encased

I feel again

I raise my cracked crystal glass

(ironically a wedding present)

“YES -I will live!!!”

you will need to find victory

in another’s destruction

for my life is worth more than that alabaster vase

you purchased for my remains

“Beauty’s End” photograph copyright L. Moon 2012

Ode To a Writer #oneshotwednesday

Ode to the Writer

You’ve seen me in print
Reading parts of my type
Thinking my words
reflect what I am like
*
points misread
lies between the lines
mere complications
Space and time
***
you’ve read into words
sometimes that will be
When you misunderstand
What you think you see
***
please realize
I’m not who you believe
You never really saw
The unknown person – me

*

*

I wrote this weeks ago for a site that was doing a feature of me on a VLOG. It was fun as the writer in the poem was just a person. Today I spoke with a co-author/ dear friend. We  had big dreams and lived some. She helped start and I wrote for a small international radio station ( still operating). We wrote several books (  paid for  printing); they have been distributed  all over the world. You may know who I am today – but who I will become and where I was before there ever was Moondustwriter – well hmmm we shall see.

We are into week 54 of One Shot Wednesday having just celebrated a year of being.

Please join us and take some time to read fantastic poetry.

Thanks to Leah Jones http://www.flickr.com/photos/accidentallyjewish/2337869818/

Waiting for You #poem (One shot Wednesday)

I sat looking

Waiting

Hoping

for One last glimpse

of us

***

There we were on our bench

the picture so clear

sweet summer fragrance

eyes only for each other

***

You held me tight

beneath the maple trees

emanating warmth

even in the fall breeze

***

Words they heard

in our lover’s embrace

carefully conveyed into the night

as though they had done this before

***

You were only a breath away

whispered never “let you go”

gave me hope for tomorrow

yet  I am here all alone

***

That love so strong

had one weak link

more than tears rusted through

our loving embrace

***

So I make a vigil

before our bench

I cast my love

into the frosty night

***

Into barren arms of naked maples

and cold winter air

“please hold my dreams tight”

they hear me whisper

****

I listen for hopes of you

things not spoken my dear

perhaps no one will hear

but maybe they will get

through to you

This poem is in honor of the men and women whose love was separated forever by disaster the day that Pearl Harbor was attacked December 7, 1941.

Join us at One Stop Poetry where the poems are always fantastic and inspirational too. One Shot Wednesday is open to anyone interested in sharing their poetry with like minded writers.

Photography: Leslie Moon – Fall bench

Benson Kua – winter bench

*http://www.flickr.com/photos/bensonkua/3293510705/

“i Am a Poet” saith He (One Shot)

Join us for another week of fine poetry at One Shot Poetry. I hope you have fun with mine this week.

He bore himself quiet dour

under his arm he carried ” it”

“this” he said “is my finest hour

for you see I am a poet”

*

Next time you see me

remember rotund I may be

the edges poking out squarely

are those of my swallowed dictionary

**

I ‘m versed in iambic pentameter

quatrains, full refrains and verse

in which my classical meter

finest brevis in longo in reverse

*

I wasn’t long or weak

my Aeolic verse was so fine

from the original Greek

flowing rhyme is sublime

***

my couplet heroic in nature

alliteration caused an ovation

by far a rapture

sought out by the nation

*

the one thing I despise

are those who will contrive

words and sounds that appall

fail poetic like any doggerel

One Shot Wednesday is a poetry day that invites poets of all shapes and sizes to express and enjoy. A reminder that Friday our poetry competition will be closing.

Thanks for the photo: Jaci XIII http://www.flickr.com/photos/turatti/4122604004/sizes/m/in/photostream/

The Tears of a Poet (One Shot Wednesday)

One  Stop Poetry is a community where writers and poets can share their work weekly and get feedback from others. Please join us at One Shot Wednesday.

Fell down on the paper

faster

than she could

wipe them away

*

She whispered

“Oh please

stop falling

pain go away”

*

The words

heard her call

and saw each

tear fall

*

“What can we do

to ease her pain?”

they wondered

watching another fall

*

Then it happened

they became

a beautiful

watercolor of words

*

She looked down

at loving devotion

forming

poetic words

Thanks to Spettacolopuro for the photo

*http://www.flickr.com/photos/spettacolopuro/3665360409/in/photostream/