Open Poetry #47 |
Moon Patterns |
OwlSA Member Rara Avis
since 2005-11-07
Posts 9347Durban, South Africa |
MOON PATTERNS July 1999 The moon makes patterns on my floor, leaf-edged and almost still. The thick blanket of night silence cushions the little sounds of talking wood, the rhythmic heartbeat of a dripping tap, a bark in the distance that is passed on faithfully in highs and lows to north and south and east and west. I wish I understood its message. Sensitivity quivers and a hundred crawling perplexities mate and multiply and mutate into grotesque monsters that pulse electric shock after shock after shock until the patterns on the floor reduce them to limp, exhausted slugs. I long for night to end and never end. Leaf-edged and almost still, the moon makes patterns on my mind. Owl |
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JerryPat Senior Member
since 2010-10-30
Posts 1991Louisiana/America |
Nice work, Owl. You projected much passion here. An almost surreal context to it, "MOON PATTERNS" is laced with mysterious sights, i.e., "The moon makes patterns on my floor, leaf-edged and almost still." In the beginning the mood is, although not lackadaisical, but at least tongue-in-cheek. But the time you get to the ending the poem becomes one of loneliness and sorta bleak. I liked both scenarios. ~ Good health is merely the slowest possible rate at which one can die. ~ |
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OwlSA Member Rara Avis
since 2005-11-07
Posts 9347Durban, South Africa |
Thank you, Jerry. You pretty much got it, except for the tongue-in-cheek bit. However, you were right about the progression. The last stanza is a sort of mirror image of the first stanza. I was watching the moon patterns on the floor in a very slight breeze that was making the leaf-shapes of my forest quiver, and pondering as the sounds took me deeper into the night and my worries arose and increased. I was loving and hating the night simultaneously. Owl |
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