I ... entered the poem of life, whose purpose is ... simply to witness the beauties of the world,
to discover the many forms that love can take. (Barabara Blackman in 'Glass After Glass')

Some of these poems are autobiographical, some are entirely fictional, and some are a mixture of both. The intention is art rather than self-expression. I don't allow factual details to get in the way of poetry! (I do seek emotional truth.)

They are works in progress, and may be subject to revision without notice. Completed versions appear in my books. Nevertheless copyright applies to all texts found here.
Thank you for your comments. I read and appreciate them all, and reply here to specific points that seem to need it — or as I have the leisure. Otherwise I reciprocate by reading and commenting on your posts as much as possible.

22 September 2011

The Moon Shrinks

as does my attention upon her.
She is not to be seen
through the haze that even the sun
has trouble piercing, the smoke
that even as it thins 
fails to disperse.

But I know that behind the veil
she’s a crescent,
a sickle, a scimitar, a curl of light;
outline of a pregnant belly, holding 
darkness within, the shape
of the unknown.

Oh void, oh mystery, oh edge
of nothing-something,
I am starting to forget you —
starting not to want
to enter the dark to look for you.
It’s Spring, Ostara: I dance in the sun!

Journalling my relationship with the moon: 23


  1. I like this Rosemary. You capture the mystery well. The second and third stanzas shine.

  2. Very neat. I love it that it is spring - very autumn here.

  3. I love this. The second stanza is stunning.

  4. Lorna, I'm very much an autumn person, but this Spring here has been exceptionally beautiful so far.

    Thank you, Mama Zen.