Saturday, 30 January 2010

To the New Moon, On a Night of the Full Moon

I used to welcome you as my true friend -
  A toenail waving in the evening sky:
     You'd put the zing back in my run-down volts,
     But now your merciless appeal jolts
       My soul's unkempt exhaustion. Your command
Pricks sore; your charms I reprehend:
   I curse for peace as round your track you fly,
     Once more, my shaking service to demand.
Such is my plea, that in this monthly trend,
   That I, at peace, my conscience freshly preened,
     Does not deserve the mud in your white hand,
     Nor taste of your addictive contraband.
       I speak quite nervous of your reprimand:
  Be merciful; don't play the spiteful fiend.

(two weeks ago - or a year and two weeks ago - damn it I can't remember!!!!!)


David said...

Poetry - the spoken word
also the shape of text on a page
the shape of sounds in the mind
the sound of shapes in the ear
the text of mind in the ear's sight
sound and symbol and disguise,
reinforcing, counterpointing,
word music, heart-speech, dream inklings,
an accumulation of character
drawn from the individual
using the common-uncommon stock
a key, a pitch, a crowbar:
a portent like a raven knocking where the wind's eye stares
a cool draught reflecting mahogany and brasswork;
a crystallising of substance from a swirl of sewage.

Borderline Lil said...

Haven't stopped by a wee while, grand to see you are still creating beautiful images. "Toenail waving in the evening sky" - love it.

David said...

Thank you. Dx