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and influenced by prompt #9 at Magpie Tales…
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that moon
that child
hold eternity’s promise in share
colorful pails on the ocean’s beach
festooned in starfish and octopus
campfire’s ‘neath a canopy of forever stars
jelly and jam on crustless bread
lipstick smeared on a giddy grin
the world of pretend
the strum of imagination
that brings song to the young heart
the thrill of dance to a child’s feet
like god’s marionette
that drives away the limp of sorrow
but now
summer’s nocturne
has robbed the colors of the day
families gather to reminisce of
the reds oranges blues
the violets and periwinkles
so as not to forget
in hopes that the joy will return
to massage the rigid cold to warmth again
the sun to re-torch the heavens
the children first see the gray descend
the gapes and gaps
the lever of lies
that loose the flaps that confine the fear
they feel the slippage
the hole in the universe
the backward motion
as all things gentle are sucked in
gray has overcome the landscape
gray is in the houses
and the homes
gray is at the dining table
black awaits in the chamber
when no one sober roams these rooms
and no one safe
is that child
when wrong things burn
bitter as paregoric
the way jugged whiskey
johnny walker
burns the throat
burns that skin
like bare knee on rough rug
like pumice on raw flesh
and winter chills the heart
when laughter bows out
and lies bow in
like the poison in a lizard’s wattle
with denial of the promise
of violet and periwinkle
oranges blues reds
but now
gray
and black waiting at the fringe
with the talon’s piercing sting
and the startled bruise
that begins the tome
of that child’s life
disappearing like smoke up a chimney
that child’s smile stowed away
in keeping for the time of that moon
and that promise
when the periwinkle will return
• • •
rob kistner © 2010
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Yes, the tenderness, both with which you remember and how you feel still, come through. The visual imagery is strong. The song like an echo disappearing with every wave receding and the change in color of the moon.
I was bowled over, by your Moon poem. Then I idly clicked on the fibreart (being a passionate quilter) and was completely overwhelmed by the beauty of your wife’s pieces (not forgetting your contributions) and also the poem. Thank you for letting us see them.
Well, now you’re just showing off! 😉
Love it, though. It’s so vivid it was almost like I was watching it happen from a corner booth somewhere. Nice job.
Fantastic images!
Love the photo–
Tenderness, strong feelings, shine through — dripping from the moon on to the ocean rivulets of thoughts cascading into a liquid flow of creative ideas.
Joanny
ditto on your wife’s fiber art — museum quality – where does she show her art in Oregon?
moons are special…That Moon is very good Rob
This feels like a deeply felt piece of writing, and you’ve done a great job of incorporating the list of words given in the prompt
How hurriedly the magic and joy of childhood escapes the earth to return to the moon. Once these magical worlds were ours and the many colours now faded to gray dull-luster waiting for the inevitable “talon” to snatch what’s left of our already dead “gray” souls. An amazing and insightful poem Rob. I particularly love these lines:
“the children first see the gray descend
the gapes and gaps
the lever of lies
that loose the flaps that confine the fear”
Yet there is always the perennial “hope” that these colours will return one day. I like how you left the possibility of return open-ended. Gives one hope. And with hope and faith, the promise to return. Blessings! Excellent wordage.
This is so raw, so gripping it makes the heart weep. All that innocence and joy, crushed out like an ember.
This is masterful sir. Simply masterful.
Oh, for a time…life, the mystery of life…life, the cycle of life…
Life, a wonderful subject to talk about and is as endless as the sky, as colorful as the reflection of the moon!
Thanks for this beautiful poem Rob!
what memories this stirred of things gone past or put away….wonderful magpie…nicely written.