The Moon’s dilly dallying

The Moon's dilly dallying 
She shows up late 
The stars start crying 
Clouds soak up their tears 
The Sun disappears 

The fog makes things dreamy 
The brook silently flows 
Reflecting the shining Moon 
Her glowing face makes lovers swoon.

March 2, 2024 7

Afterimages

I wake up with a gasp, it was a bad dream, already forgotten. I drink a glass of water and walk to the terrace. The night is getting old.

Winds hold the spicy sweet perfume of the yellow-cestrum, blooming in my garden. It’s cold outside but it’s also refreshing.

The Moon’s at full tonight, I remember some fragments of the nightmare–my late grandmother cursing, me bleeding and someone yelling, “it’s time to wake up”–that’s when I woke up.

Afterimages 
Zip through mind like a slideshow 
Snow moon stares at me

The Snow Moon is the Full Moon in February. All twelve full moons have names, you may read them here

Posted over at dverse: Haibun Monday

February 27, 2024 22

Midnight Musing

Sweet silence 
except for the tick-tock 
of the wall clock 

At the window
the Half-Moon peeps 
from behind the clouds 

I gaze at her 
she shies and hides 
in the blanket 

Tick-tock 
The night is young 
She comes out-- 

--of the clouds 
glowing gorgeously 
to stare at her admirers--

I meet her eyes 
they're hypnotizing 
my pulse quickens 

Tick-tock--she'll be gone 
to the other part of the world 
leaving me alone 

with my thoughts of her

December 18, 2023 4

Longing For Night

Every day I wake up, I wish that the night hadn’t ended. I crave a deep rest from the roles I’ve been playing—son, student, friend, poet, and teacher. But no matter how much you want the soft moonlight during the day to show you the way, you cannot pluck moonlight to bring in your pocket.

I’m afraid of the Sun; it’s too consistent; it makes people go out and work; it never changes, whereas Moon changes every night; some nights it doesn’t even show up and leaves us all in starlit darkness.

I love to sleep. People seem to think I’m a slacker, I don’t mind. Even when I’m in college or doing a job, I daydream, and one part of me is always in the dark, waiting for the blessed night to come, and when it does, I pray it never goes away.

144 Words

Posted over at dverse where Mish is hosting prosery Monday.

Prompt

Write a piece of flash fiction or other prose of up to or exactly 144 words, including the given line:

You cannot pluck moonlight to bring in your pocket!
Helen Hoyt – October Letter

I have written a creative non-fiction piece.

October 10, 2023 9

Haiku #59

on zebra crossing 
under a full moon at dusk 
faded pink hairband

April 4, 2023 5

Haiku #48

Moon hiding behind 
Milky clouds and misty rain 
I have lost my way

March 23, 2023 9

Haiku #42

sparrows chattering 
under spring moon, before dawn 
feather falls on me

March 13, 2023 7

A Friday Night

She never says where she’s from; whenever I ask, she just gives me a crescent-shaped smile and says, “I’m from the craters; I was born on the Moon.” She has a wicked sense of humor; you’ve got to give her that.

In the joint, Johnny is rocking; the rhythm and blues won’t let this night be silent. Outside, I meet her, she’s standing right in front of me, the Moon—a half-pearl directly above us, “I’m back from the black” she says to me in a shady tone.

“Come on, babe, don’t be so icy,” I tell her. “Let’s go inside; let’s dance!” She chuckles, her eyes tickle. “Let’s not. Let’s get back home, I’ll sing you a song, I’ll write you a poem and we can dance too if you want but not in there because They are there.”

“the moon looks pretty”
“alright, but don’t let me down”
“have I ever, love?”

Posted over at dverse where Frank J. Tassone is hosting Haibun Monday: Mezza Luna.

Half-Moon clicked by me a few nights ago.

February 28, 2023 22

For You Moon

Early this morning, I stopped running to look at the flowers. Shades of pink, purple, white, and yellow—shades of life, shades of love. I think, that life, must always be driven by love, not hate and rage.

In the early hours of morning, as I looked at the flowers, I thought of You. In past years, I used to think You were mine. That I posess You because I love You. That I must, like an intriguer, spread the idea that You are the One; to everyone I meet.

But this year’s a different thing. I’ll not think of You like that no more. I’ll not pluck these beautiful flowers for Your worship. But from time to time, I’ll just stop running to look at them and I’ll think of You.

You, watching over me and my kind with your pale, potent shine.

144 words

Posted over at dverse where Merril is hosting Prosery Monday.

Prompt: Write a prose, no longer than 144 words (not including the title), the prose must also include the prompt line (word for word): “This year’s a different thing, I’ll not think of you”. ~ Charlotte Mew

February 14, 2023 30

Haiku #40

torpid ticks of clock 
moonlight from the top window 
caresses her face

5:12 am, 6 Feb. 2023, M. Jay Dixit

February 6, 2023 2

Tag: moon