~~ a quindecim ~~
Rays of light beam down; a moon in full bloom
is a nocturnal flower on a high
traverse removing the doldrums and gloom
with its bright round light emitting a sigh.
The brightest bloom on terrestrial earth
soars eloquently protected 'midst clouds
drifting, fore and aft, a royal sheathe--
steadfast, migrating shields and shrouds.
Any flower on earth could ne'er compare
with the yen to reach up and pluck it down,
put it in a vase filled with baby's breath
with a white diamond encircling crown--
a luminescent, winking, twinkling wreath:
breathtaking, romantic embodiment
of an everlasting promise to vent
angelic purity of loving scent.
Orbiting the earth, seemingly so close,
lighting the world with poetic diffuse
bursting from within, an enraptured dose
with the power to soften old man Zeus--
or the wise old God watching from on high.
Gifting us unrivaled, rapturous views
enriched with delight dispensed from the sky,
orchestrating romance--old Cupid's ruse.
Both the young and the old can appreciate
the memo encased within such vision--
that meteor shower for which we wait,
composing its meter with such precision.
Oh, beautiful sight, the moon in full bloom,
a romantic touch to lighten the gloom
adds a bit of stardust sheen to the room.
Even the farmer reaps much benefit;
with the heavenly light perched on high
some bring in the harvest by night with it
then rake in the profits with a sigh.
A dance on the beach, with its ebb and flow
causing waters to bunch 'neath strength of pull,
moving away releases, lets them go
as slow, smooth waltz invites a soaring gull.
Even humans exhibit changes of mood;
as its face shines bigger and brighter still
heaviness causes some to droop and brood,
and nothing seems enough to fill the bill.
Take care not to let it become your god
or dictate the paths your feet may have trod;
let it serve as a guide for tilling sod.
The Man in the Moon watches all we do
with his face quite clear on the brightest nights
but hardly seen when obscured from our view
by the waning mode or storms in our sights.
As it waxes luminescent--moves close,
full and bright, visibility improves--
and hidden angles bid all adios,
while sharp, concise outlines of surface grooves
are revealed for those needing to know when
to plant crops producing above the ground
or best times to start those root crops again--
when to lay fallow, when to switch crops 'round.
The moon blooms for us up high in the sky
to give a growth guide for planting, and why
some days produce better roots to live by.
Photo Above: Posted by permission granted from Silas Jackson South.
~~ a rondine ~~
Take away this; then replace it with that,
give little thought for the things to be lost--
the value they held or replacement cost.
The morning will bring a new coat and hat;
'Twill wrap-up warmer than the one thrown out,
bolster the image and smooth the way flat.
Take away this.
New thoughts, new ways will remove tit for tat,
excluding habits known to increase frost,
forbidding views of traditional host,
supplanting the old with new voice in chat.
Take away this.
Take Away This . . .
While the rondine form in poetry has traditionally been utilized as a romantic vent, my use of the format has — from the beginning — taken a different course. When my mind conjures a rondine, it tends to address irony by focusing on a specific word whose original intent focused one direction but often presents a view taking a divergent path.
With this rendition of the rondine, I have taken my variance up a notch to address political concerns and somber reality. Since the coronavirus sidelined our world’s best laid plans a few years back, our whole outlook on life has seemed to change — and I am not sure it has been for the betterment of our society as a whole. Therefore, I have tried to be the voice of many who are unsure whether or not to speak out.
My past tendencies of a poetic nature have presented themselves in batches of a particular form. Thus, I am inclined to believe this will be the case in this venue. I have written political satire before–though I am not sure this is satirical. As you read, contemplate what the poem says to you, and please scroll down to “Like” if you appreciate what I have written. Then post a comment letting me know what you think. Does the rondine enhance the message presented–pro or con, I would like to hear your thoughts.
Thank You for reading. I appreciate you!
Photo Above: by Steve Johnson @Unsplash.com.
~~ by tkbrown
The moon, so large and full tonight
hovers above the mountaintop
billowing out so round and bright
one might think it is broad daylight.
Driving up, one may want to stop,
take a picture -- romantic sight.
I ha' ne'er seen such bonny light
so near and clear, tugging a tear,
unrestricted, soaring through night
on a course of purposeful might
but pausing here with strength to share,
painting mem'ry to be held tight.
What are you saying, Silver Moon,
singing such a delightful tune?
Holding me back with song you croon,
lighting my path, lunar lumen
capture my heart, making me swoon --
elegance royal, Silver Moon!
You call me to your silver side
with pow'r mighty, controlling tide,
nary a cloud for you to hide
shining face with a smile so wide;
clearing a trail whence we may ride --
reflecting romance, Silver Tide!
Glimmering light shining so bright,
catching a breath upon the heath,
capturing eye beneath the sky --
why, oh why; please tell me why,
to those beneath, do you bequeath
mem'ry tonight -- beautiful sight?
I'll ne'er forget your light tonight,
mem'rable sway in bright array
giving my heart such a sweet start
with stunning art, the dark you thwart
and bring night-day into the fray --
curing the blight of inky night.
Photo Above: by Sara Santandrea @ Unsplash.com.