Blood moon, O, sun-halogenated bulb! Sublunary loons swear and swoon Your red blushes flood The late twilit noon In hot menstrual flushes of blood!
But blood moon! In your earth-orbited race I think you run out of skied space Much too fast cloud-apace And star-apace much too soon!
O, Muse of Poesy, Bide my time! Stay passion-blooded with one Whose verse is done Bequeathing the world his rhyme!
Poet’s Note: To ‘End-days Christians’ a blood moon is one sign heralding the end of the world. This poet begs to differ! To him, the blood moon, is regrettably, too short-lived a natural but beautiful event and an opportunity to invoke it as the Muse of poesy! This poem is dedicated to 15 year old Destiny Hay of Cross City, Florida. She is active on High on Poems and aspires to be a poet of import. Good luck Destiny! I hope you will in time bequeath the world some of its finest poems! The last verse in Blood Moon is written with your aspiration in mind!
After bending the oracle, there was participation in voice of grievers. The child of sun was dead in arms of nature. It moves, when I thought it was stillborn, the history of mankind. In the saddest day today, I believe
We were fools- Running away from the so called labyrinth of life But only to come back with renewed wrath for each other. Was it romance? When we were inside your car, It was raining a little that night, And
A Colored Moon// By: Fareed Ghanem (1) A moon is red in three moods: When the ladies of high society kiss windows and walk out without lipstick, or; When white color is called red, or; When roses bloom in your