Nights With No Glimmer Of Moon

Nights With No Glimmer Of Moon short poem

Photo by It’sGreg

Nights with no glimmer of moon
In your half-silvered mirror
Anonymity silhouettes fading memories

Ages ago I was a child trapped
In the nightmare clutches of scorn and penury
And playmates I had but few

I half-remember of an early evening
A short play-reach of a half-lit house
The anonymous mother of an anonymous friend

Called out hello and gave
As would Mother Teresa to an impoverished boy
A little something of a treat to eat

My rat eyes gleamed
A chocolate-coated nut it was she gave me
My first taste of chocolate

The years of unpunctuated poverty
Broke into dawns with a small glimmer of moon
In which I remember only her anonymity

And like one now disabused
Of the terrifying clutches of a cataplectic* dream
I gratefully remember naught else

* of sleep paralysis

Rate the poem
1 Star2 Stars3 Stars4 Stars5 Stars (1 votes, average: 3.00 out of 5)
We are posting your rating...

Have something to say about the poem?

Poems you will love

Give your feedback / review for the poem

Be the First to Comment & Review poem!

Notify of
avatar
wpDiscuz

Yes No Maybe

Yes No Maybe short poem

I was doing so well. At least so I thought. Maybe For ONE moment, I was over you. Maybe For ONE moment, I was happy. But Suddenly, I saw something, Something amazing, So sophisticated, Made me eager, and intrigued. It

No More Carnage -manchester Bomb Blast

No More Carnage  manchester Bomb Blast short poem

An attack with hatred and ferocity killed many people, how disdainful blind eyes with no sign of fraternity killed outright teenagers, how painful Parents who lost their children shed tears of blood in mournful an act against the faith of

My Love My Moon

My Love My Moon short poem

I am like a pheasant enamored by moon Who is attracted to moon for its beauty Let me play with the streaks with its tune Let me be out of horizons to be just free Moon from centuries is loved

A Moon Has Crashed

A Moon Has Crashed short poem

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

No Hurts

No Hurts short poem

This was an embryonic stimulus for a sprint. Knowledge itself has no legs. Can you run faster than thoughts? The sniper will take you in the open field. I had hoped to die in your arms. The podium was too