Dark Moon

moonlight

rainfall

street lights

grey-blue mist

backlit clouds

not one star

moondark

light rain

street fall

backlit mist

blue-grey clouds

no night star

nightfall

dark street

rain-lit

star-mist dark

light grey-blue

back street night

street rain

light fall

dark moon

Moon journal: 30


And submitted for dVerse Open Link Night #11

Included in the book, THREE CYCLES OF THE MOON

Hana

I could pull a card for Hana, lady of joy,

except that I know her soul is Priestess.

She is poet and true-seer, guided by the Moon.

These last few years she has been exploring

Empress expression, blossoming in the Sun,

dancing in water, in tropical gardens, cradling

her infant daughter, watching her young son 

play and grow, willing him strong,

expanding herself, embracing herself.

But she is Priestess, who keeps her soul free.

The man with the face and form of a god,

eternally a youth, was temporary.

Venus was too much woman for Adonis!

And the soft, lush, fertile island

needed at last a contrast. She travelled

to the cold north, to a landscape

of tougher beauty, and found

her roots in rock and earth.

Deep roots. They bring her back now

to the temperate land of her birth, her girlhood.

Here she begins the ordering process,

the process of story. She has lived through

great adventures, emerging changed forever

and whole. She begins the chronicle.

                       ********

Seeker of joy, finder of joy, may you always 

dance in the light of the Universe! 

And may you, Moon-woman, continue 

inspiring and living true dreams.

Moon journal: 29

Included in the book, THREE CYCLES OF THE MOON

Small Moon

Small moon, I don’t see you

although your accompanying star

is the one light visible tonight

in our clouded sky.

For most of this lunar month

which, theoretically, 

I was to spend looking at you,

I have been looking for you

and not finding.

Not your fault.

You presented yourself, I know,

but the weather ran interference.

You will be the same moon

(won’t you?)

next time you begin

your waxing phase.

But I wanted this one!

This phase of you. This present 

incarnation, manifestation, moment.

The moments skip past so fast

and we can’t grasp them.

I am not the first to discover this

but lately the realisation

seems more urgent.

Also we can’t

see past impenetrable veils.

I shall have to settle

as others have done

for the moments I am given

saying thank you.

Moon journal: 26

Included in the book, THREE CYCLES OF THE MOON

Rediscovering Stonehenge

(title of television program)

I am watching the History channel:

an excited anthropologist

thinks he has rediscovered Stonehenge

as a temple not to the sun but the moon.

Above the window which shows

the sun dawning at Summer Solstice,

another frames the light of the moon

coming to fullness every month.

And even the sun window also shows

Winter Solstice sunset — the true focus?

It seems self-evident to me:

the Goddess and the God,

the cycle of the seasons turning; 

neither sun nor moon alone, predominant,

but both, together, ruling the heavens

and shining down on the earth.

People, he remarks in wonder,

were able to carry out science

at quite sophisticated levels, observing

the movements of lights in the night sky.

Their physical skills, he adds,

cannot be parallelled. At certain stages

of the agricultural cycle, even today,

there’s a labour force with nothing to do.

The great pyramids at Giza

were built around the same period.

Newgrange in Ireland, believed to be

solar observatory and tomb, was earlier still. 

What magic built Stonehenge and the rest? 

He tells us: Infinite time and patience!

A German disc has been found,

dating from the Stonehenge era.

He displays it on screen, noting

it not only depicts the sun

but gives equal space to the moon.

At Newgrange he shows us a carved stone: 

three spirals coiling from one centre.

He wonders if this has religious significance.

Oh, just ask any witch! Yes, that

is a spiritual symbol, a clear triskelion.

After the end of the Ice Age, he tells us,

‘the moon-fearing hunter-gatherers’

were superseded. Agriculture needs

the cycles of the sun. But when crops failed,

did they blame themselves for neglecting

an earlier, lunar worship? (Yes, he suggests.)

He shows us tall gold wizard hats, decorated

with all the phases of the moon. The people,

he supposes, needed priest-kings, masters of time, 

who understood these older mysteries.

Finally, with irritating time and patience,

he arrives at my own conclusion:

sun and moon are united, sun and moon

are in harmony! Those ‘windows’ at Stonehenge,

when you get them lined up just right, reveal

everything that they reveal: the movements 

of the sun mimic those of the moon; and

the movements of the moon mimic

those of the sun. It becomes self-evident,

and he says it: They are one and the same.

Moon journal: 25

Aso submitted for dVerse Poetics: Repetition.


P.S. The triskelion mentioned is duplicated in the Poets United logo in the sidebar at the right!

Included in the book, THREE CYCLES OF THE MOON

Love in the Afternoon

The three-day-old smoke haze hides the moon.

My Astrological Moon Calendar and Planting Guide

shows it exactly halfway between full and dark —

so I imagine this to be a time of perfect balance.

Anyway it’s Spring. The afternoon is warm.

All the work is done. There are new sheets on the bed.

We kick the cats out of the bedroom and make love.

Long, lazy love lasting for hours; leisurely and light.

His skin is clean and smooth, sweet-smelling.

I nestle in, we stroke each other all over.

Afterwards he declares it our best loving ever.

‘You have a short memory,’ I say. ‘Some other times....’

There is something to be said for the slow descent

towards the dark, and the way the focus narrows in.

As the time of a life cycle shortens, moments lengthen.

‘In the last quarter, the movement is toward integration.’

Moon journal: 22

Submitted for dVerse Open Link Night #10

Included in the book, THREE CYCLES OF THE MOON (a collaboration with Jennie Fraine and Helen Patrice). 

Shared, approx 14 years later, with Poets and Storytellers United for Friday Writings  #183: A Perfect Afternoon.

Making Connections

All day a haze of white

has covered the sky

turning the sun dark — 

but it’s too hot

for a nuclear winter.

The internet tells us: smoke 

from controlled burns and others

spreading across the corners

of two States. 

Tonight of course

we see no moon.

Out walking late this afternoon

we spoke to neighbours 

we’d never met, 

all at that point mystified.

Much later, watching on telly

an hour of Jimi at Woodstock,

I well remember

seeing this first at the time —

the height of the Vietnam war

and the height of the protests.

We knew about the napalm by then 

and My Lai. So did he.

Oh my God, we said in ’69, 

as he played the Star Spangled Banner

and gradually his guitar

gave us the noise of screaming 

over the blare of guns.

Confusion / connection / communication.

Even in times of no light.

Moon journal: 21

30 Poems in 30 Days: 25, Include a pop culture reference. 
(Yes, the 30 Day poems are liable to get a little out of order now, 
as I seek to combine prompts when possible.)

Included in the book, THREE CYCLES OF THE MOON

Tonight the Moon

Tonight the moon

is a bright orange light,

as big as if full

but only three-quarters now

and hanging low down

under its nearest star.

I am glad to note that star

always attached to the moon.

I call to my love to come down

where he can see the surprising light

of this almost-orb we have now

blazing, not quite at the full.

Once he was full

of energy, sizzling like a star,

but frail and slow now.

Still he is thrilled by the moon

sending orange light

through the trees, and comes down

to where he can see it whole. I help him down

the steep stairs. Out in the yard, we are full

of childlike delight,

standing gazing at moon and star.

‘Yes,’ he says, ‘An astonishing moon.

I see it clearly now.

‘But I must go back up now.

I feel unsteady here. I think I might fall down

when I tilt my head back to look at the moon.’

Already my pleasure is full,

having shared with him tonight’s bright moon and star.

‘Let’s go!’ I say, keeping it light.

We climb back up the stairs by orange light

shining on us here, tonight, now.

I follow him like that attendant star

which follows the moon up and down

the arc of the sky; follows from new to full

and through the dwindling to the dark moon.

Leaving the moon, we enter interior light

knowing that life is full even though slower now —

having adventured down to an orange moon and a star.

Moon journal: 20

Included in the book, THREE CYCLES OF THE MOON

A New Phase

She still looks full

radiating beams of light

like children’s pictures of the sun

but white, misty.

Last night I left all my crystals

out to catch that light.

Today I washed them  

in running water,

laid them to dry on towels

and began dusting their shelves.

Confronting the moon

and myself

brings me to action.

My demon is called Escape.

But it’s Spring

and I’m tired of burying my head

even in poetry.

All that power

I’ve been storing and hoarding

and hiding

having reached its fullness

now demands an out.

Moon journal: 17

Included inthe book, THREE CYCLES OF THE MOON

Full Moon

I walk out into a vista of peace.

She floats on a sea of cloud,

surprising me with her hushed beauty.

A milk-blue heaven spreads

from under my balcony roof

wide, and across to the mountains.

In my back yard courtyard 

I find her again, high

in the centre of the sky.

Wisps of veiling drift over her face

as I blow her a kiss

and call the quarters.

Tonight I greet her alone.

He is in bed. He tires early now

and forgets our old, shared rituals.

When I said goodnight, I reminded him,

‘This is a night of power.

What shall I request for you?’

‘Health and strength?’ I prompted,

‘Love and happiness?’

‘All that,’ he said, and we laughed.

Then I grew serious. 

‘Really, what do you want?’

‘Deep sleep,’ he replied, fervent.

And so I ask on his behalf

and for myself

I request courage.

Moon journal: 16

Included in the book, THREE CYCLES OF THE MOON

Anniversary Moon

The moon is above our tree

in a very dark sky.

On TV they are remembering

9/11, and the sun shining

in a very blue sky

that then turned night-dark.

It was morning here

when my friend Maureen

phoned and said, ‘Turn on the TV.

America’s been invaded!’

I yelled for Andrew to come

and banged on the door

of our guest Diane.

We huddled together on the sofa,

watching in silent shock

as the images played over and over

while lists of aeroplane passengers

ran along the bottom of the screen.

The day went weirdly slow

and I can’t remember

anything else we did.

Ten years later,

Andrew and I

watch on TV

the memorial ceremonies

and cry.

I get up and go outside

seeking the moon for comfort.

But the dark sky,

the black branches of the tree

and the small orb not quite full

fail to console.

Moon journal: 15

30 Poems in 30 days: 11, memories of an historic event

Included in the book, THREE CYCLES OF THE MOON

Gaps

The moon makes a small white hole

in a square of unrelieved black

in the photo I took last night.

Just as there is a small absence now

in this household, since my son

left at the end of his visit.

I am regretful that I didn’t take a photo

of him, although of course I have

many new ones in my head.

One woman I know mistook him

for his younger brother, who

was here a few years ago.

I kept seeing the many contrasts

between them, thankful for

one sane and loving son.

Thankful for his bright point of light 

against the empty darkness

of that other old sorrow.

Moon journal: 11

Included in the book, THREE CYCLES OF THE MOON

The Nature of Energy

We’re in an after-lunch discussion,

Andrew, Marian, David and me,

about the nature of energy, the way

that it works, how it doesn’t matter

what name or explanation you give,

the underlying principles are the same.

There must be a trade, we agree,

when asking for favours. The balance 

must be kept; you can’t have a vacuum. 

So I remember, when I get home

I must pick fresh flowers for Brigid.

She’s been generous with the poems.

I snip two pink geraniums, four big leaves,

and choose the heavy green glass vase 

that Earl and Roberta gave me long ago

when they were still married, and I 

was with Bill — a gift, you see, from poets.

I stand it before Her picture on my desk.

Later I walk out under the darkening sky

for mundane reasons, and there

unexpected, unlooked-for, the moon

half full, floats above my clothesline

looking like a slice of lemon for a drink.

After all these nights of absence! Easy 

and casual as if it was no big deal, as if 

she’d never been hidden. ‘I am at peace 
with the world,’ says Andrew. So am I.

Moon journal: 10

Included in the book, THREE CYCLES OF THE MOON

The Door of Heaven

The door of Heaven

opens one tiny crack

revealing not the moon

but a single star

close to where 

by my reckoning

the moon should be.

I know my night skies.

I remember the Gulf —

lying back on the deck

of the trailer-sailor,

awed by a sky wide open

displaying not only moon 

but every star

and the travelling satellite

tiny and pale,

the fine web

of the Milky Way

in intricate detail, and sweet

familiar constellations.

Now I am sheltered 

by mountains, tucked

in a blanket of cloud. 

A door begins to open.

Moon journal: 9

30 Poems in 30 Days: 4, a door opening or closing

Included in the book, THREE CYCLES OF THE MOON

Journeys

A very small journey —

only two steps down

into our back garden

to look for the moon.

As usual, the sky

was covered in cloud

but on the dark ground

something shone white.

A patch of radiance

as if the moon had fallen,

rounded full — ah, but she 

is still making that journey.

Gradually I understood:

a baby white rabbit

lying utterly still, soft

like a feathered dove.

And my black cat

wanting to go back out

after only just coming in,

unaware of wrongdoing.

My son, visiting, wrapped it 

in an old towel, in a box.

We’ll show respect, he said,

but the family need not look.

Tomorrow morning

I have a longer journey —

across the road with the box

to talk to the children there.

Moon journal: 8 

(Yes, I’m ahead of myself; more poems than lunar days, so far.)

30 Poems in 30 Days, 3: Travel

Included in the book, THREE CYCLES OF THE MOON

'Ah, Moon of My Delight'

rising whether I see you or not

and riding the sky until dawn

how many nights I found you 

gazing in at my window

your white face hovering

above my childhood bed

when I first loved you, and

instinctively drew you down

or later over my desk

companioning the poems

and now, at dark and full,

the one I salute with a kiss

the one I sing to, dance for,

to whom I tell my stories

and still you bring your beauty

softly into my garden

lighting the secret way

between the clouds and stars

Moon journal: 5

30 poems in 30 days: 1, a love poem not about romantic love.

Linked to Poets United's Poetry Pantry #334

Included in the book, THREE CYCLES OF THE MOON

Faces Seen and Unseen

Ned Kelly’s bones

have been identified

from an archaeological dig

at old Pentridge Prison —

torn down in 1997.

The boys I knew there, poets, 

named High Security

‘the dark side of the moon’.

Ned’s bones were found

in a box in a mass grave.

DNA proved them his.

His skull is still missing.

The moon, too,

remains hidden

again tonight, behind 

the heavy rain clouds.

She has seen it all before:

young men with guns

who dream of being heroes

and die on the end of a rope.

And I, how calmly, contemplate

Ned’s known and living face

and another, far less famous.

‘Such is life.’

Note:  Aussies know, but for the benefit of others: Ned Kelly's 
last words, just before they hanged him, were, 'Such is life.'

Moon journal: 4

I am submitting this piece for the current dVerse Critique and Craft session. This was a difficult poem to write and has personal allusions without a lot of detail. I am wondering how well it succeeds.

Included in the book, THREE CYCLES OF THE MOON

Invisibility

tonight

the moon is new

I’m feeling old

my shoulders ache

I walk outside

to see the moon

in a sky thick with cloud

no sliver

‘old women are invisible’

wrote poet Barbara Giles

when she herself was old

as I am now and feel

but the moon is only

obscured by cloud

and tonight we know

the moon renews

Moon journal: 1
Included in the book THREE CYCLES OF THE MOON

Journalling My Relationship with the Moon

A woman on facebook invited others to do this during the current lunar month, beginning now. She created a group where people can share  about this experience. Naturally I am writing my moon journal in verse.

Later:
Some of my moon journal poems were included in a collaborative book with Jennie Fraine and Helen Patrice, who did the same exercise in the same lunar month. It is called THREE CYCLES OF THE MOON, and is available from Amazon.