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A Sullen Moon (Free verse) by Jimbo July 20, 2003
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A Sullen Moon
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Sitting here gazing skyward
Staring towards the heavens
I see no moon this night
I know itâs there but out of sight
It hasnât fallen like I have
It lingers someplace the same as me
Biding its time waiting for a newer day
Like myself awaiting another way
~
Hidden there behind the covers of clouds
Much the way I must hide what I feel
The silence of the moon suspended above
Brings such feelings of want and love
How true it is when I am sad
To have a friend like you
The touch of your hands . . .the look in your eyes
When I hold you in my arms I cannot help but to cry
~
On the night of the moon
We kissed again with tears
Thinking of happiness and nothing more
Two of us and the moon we adore
Morose at times when Iâm near you
Knowing how well you know
Kissing and touching and holding you near
Wanting to forever to hold you dear
~
Outstretched arms the curves of your body
That everlasting smile
And yes the eyes so very much your eyes
Speaking to me softly of love in your guise
Wanting to become you for brief moments
To feel all that you feel and want all that you need
You are the rose upon my bloom yes my Rose
And gently Iâd remove your petals like cloths
~
Lowering each branch so I can choose
As the moon passes over the horizon
Surly and irritable because it cannot be so
I will hold you ever so tightly and never let go
So much in need of the quietness of your love
From head to toe I love you so
Sorry at times youâve crossed the threshold of grief
How much can this heart bear without being a thief
~
Iâll serve you in love to make life worthwhile
And love you forever if forever it takes
Hold you so close the beat of two hearts becoming one
The sullen moon will shine and smile as the sun
Singing out My Rhapsody for you
As you sing in your colorata like pink pirouette
With lips as sweet as babies breath
A sullen moon Iâll hold your head and have you rest
~
Thom
Up the ladder:
Paean
Down the ladder:
dinner salon
Votes: (green: user, blue: anonymous)
Arithmetic Mean: 4.4
Posted: July 29, 2003 8:33 PM PDT; Last modified: July 29, 2003 8:33 PM PDTWeighted score: 4.9284782 Overall Rank: 9338 Comments:
[n/a]
horus8 @ 24.126.113.154
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31-Jul-03/11:25 AM
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Reply
This is the poetry of a Jethro Tull fan with a shit happens T-shirt tied around their bald pot bellied head. You can find my e- mail on my homepage Einstein, and you can find out all you need to know about me with a good google. Let me know when your coming, I'll put out my wheel chair ramp and turn on the porch light.
"On the night of the moon
We kissed again with tears" As opposed to the night of the 'no moon' listing with beers? "Sorry at times youâve crossed the threshold of grief" The last time I crossed the threshold of grief, I had to put my bride down for a minute to get my wheels over the molding. "Wanting to become you for brief moments To feel all that you feel and want all that you need You are the rose upon my bloom yes my Rose And gently Iâd remove your petals like cloths" Wait a minute... Let me get out my Capt. Crunch decoder... yes, just as I suspected. You have a sever fear of rejection coupled by the weight of the idea that you are a burden to those around you that you love. Yet you are so full of pride and blinded by the American stereo type of what a father figure and a husband's supposed to be yo can barely sleep at night or look at yourself in the mirror. that's a horrible way for you to live man, and all in your mind. What a shame. have you tried viagra and just letting the past go? Well then again, you're not very bright I gather because of your inebility to locate my e-mail, or address to beat me up when it's in plain site, not to mention the fact that a child could, left handed, see where I live and who I am In seconds upon the web these days since that information isn't secret, or you could get my # from Z. Shit man there's all kinds of ways for you to beat me up, or are you as incompitent at problem solving as you are at poetry? Pardon me, my mother just called out to me for lunch, I'm five, I have to go now, today's peanut butter and jelly surprise. The surprise is MURDER. Yippe, and bye Tom.
Alright, alright..I decided to read up on what the fuck poetry is REALLY about. Forget the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches! No Harley for me either, and although I've not been on Hamburger hill, but have eaten hills of hamburgers, I have been THERE, but they had different names. But that was WAY before your time anyway.
Truthfully, I have to say, between you and Angle food cake, I've had a good laugh. FUCK! I didnt realize someone could tear a new asshole so easliy as you guys did. And believe me its not easy at my OLD AGE. But what the fuck, I guess I had it coming to me. All I can do is sit back and laugh a bit.......nope I wont cry! I can take the complaints, but just one favor, I'm a stickler on spel lin. Correct the typos. Meantime I'll find something else for you guys to rip apart, this old ass is getting old, a new one may not be a bad idea. THOM, TOM, THOMAS, TOMMY
Remeber, poetry is a way for people to get a good look at themselves even the blind get to see their hideous reflections. It's not for the weak of constitution mind you. So far, you're pissed off because I gave your spider poem a six and declined to vote on any of your others. Perhaps, you feel that since I'm 28, and lacking tits and ass and empathy for the overwhelming amount of congealing shit poets to the bottom of my hoof, and since I'm younger than your fat flat Harley Davidson ass, I know not how to instruct a servant to the grind about the wonders of poetry? Sir, I regret to inform you that Arthur Rimbaud was a mere seventeen year old dandy when he wrote a book that changed the planet (more inportantly he toppled off the old guard with one big swoosh). Manly P. Hall was 23. Skill is formed with dilligence and humility not hallmarkian crocodile tears my good man, and I gurantee to you that I've spent more time studying poetry than you have sleeping it off. I have earned the ability to fan tail my ass accordingly and prance around as bachanal as one can possibly become in 3 decades. It's a sacrifice, I know, the way I gloat and tweek my own nipples whilst cackeling the gay loon, but friend, know this, it's because I love you and it hurts me more than it hurts you.
Do you ever think you are the poster child for what can go wrong when you smoke pot every day?
Absolutely
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