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Wednesday, January 23, 2013


Rippling Moonbeams on 23

In the still of the night
when only the moon 
feels the wind whispering,
and ancient Hades sleeps,
I think of you.

In the still of the night
when tears are raindrops
of forgotten love,
falling down cherubs'
corroding cheeks;
silence shivers in
a blanket of dark, 
Eris soft memories,
leaves return by curling in.
Tree trunks reach and  
rub together,
sending screams out
to the still of the night;
I think of you and lay to rest
my core to the root
of our earth.

In the strike of the night,
I call upon the 
resurrection of the sun
at 5 a.m.,
the hue of blood rises, 
a red river of temperance
folds her arms across
my prostrate back,
purifies me,
and anoints the break of day.


  1. nice..i really like that last stanza...the dramatic scratch of the match and bringing of the light...that whole stanza really...

    caught you at dverse...smiles.

  2. stunning! I like the visuals you paint, particularly in you description of the sun's rising.

  3. Beautifully written, the imagery is amazing.

  4. Absolutely exquisite! I loved this and could very easily picture this. Excellent.

  5. Lovely poem! And thanks very much for your fun contribution to this week's Limerick-Off. I hope you'll be a frequent participant. (I post a new Limerick-Off contest every Sunday, and it runs all week. )

    Thanks again!


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