Wednesday, April 17, 2013

Creation's Ode - 17/30

Happy Wednesday, everyone!

What are you all up to this week? Doing some invigorating writing and reading? Hopefully so.

I seem to have overcome my NaPoWriMo slump. I feel like I've found my second literary wind, which is great because I was running on E there for about a week. I'm rejuvenated and refreshed today, though, so huzzah for that!

Today's poem came semi-prompted by NaPoWriMo, where we were encouraged to write a poem of greeting.
And now our (totally optional) prompt! Early on in the month, I asked you to write a valediction — a poem of farewell. Today, let’s try the opposite, and write poems of greeting. There’s lots of things you could greet. The spring? Your new stapler? A favorite classmate? An addition to the menu at your local cafe? The subject’s up to you — now get out there and say “hello!”
Me being the neo-hippy that I am, of course I used this opportunity to write about...nature! Of course! Nature is not a new topic, but at the same time, that doesn't mean it can't make for something refreshing. I feel happy with today's poem, and hopefully you will too.

Creation's Ode
 

Moon,
it has felt like so much longer than it's been
since I last saw your cold crescent of nacre
peel off the night's pajamas
with the arc of your roving gaze.
I am too far off to hear them,
but I imagine the stars are lauding you with songs
comprised of dust and reverberation,
like nebulous wrist bones clattering their applause.

Moon,
only the corners of Earth poor enough
to know your power come alive on these nights.
Your luminous runoff rolls pitch off of hillsides
and defines the dryads who hide in sylvan alcoves
with more clarity than the sun could dream.
You are the sun's dream, a fantasy
of grace and less-abusive light.
Stop moving for a moment and let us love you.

Moon,
already you flirt with marigold mountains,
kissing peaks that reach to hold your pallor more closely.
Why leave so soon, as if you don't love the way
Earth traces your gait with longing? You are shyer
than one more analogous to beauty than Helen of Troy
ought to be.
Don't go yet. The rivers still ripple your image,
a liquescent portrait in hands too wet to hold on…

It's day again, and once again you are gone.

2 comments:

  1. Neo hippy indeed :P

    Anyway this is awesome, again with the imagery

    ReplyDelete
  2. Oh the aching absence and loss of having. Love it.

    ReplyDelete