A Tall Man
i saw atall man on the road
a crescent moon showed up in his matted hair
and i longed to greet him and i bowed
and he vanished into thin air
the crescent moon shot forth to the skies
it was the hour when the wolf howls and the hyena cries
poem by Dr. Ramesh Chandra Mukhopadhyaya
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Related quotes
A Moon Mystery!
Auspicious or not, crescent Moon is always precious to poets;
Waxing and waning Moons have different effects of superstition;
Crescent Moons good or bad are ever poets’ great inspiration!
Crescent Moon is a basket for carrying flowers of Stars in it;
Crescent Moon is the boat that travels on the ocean of Sky;
Crescent Moon is a fine jewel decorating Lord Siva’s tresses!
Waxing crescent Moon with a Star is very auspicious to Islamites;
Thus silent beauty in the Western Sky encourages worn out souls;
But the waning crescent Moon in the Eastern Sky was a fun on tour!
What a beautiful sight the waning crescent Moon in the Eastern Sky!
On a sudden bus travel in plains I happened to see this in a cold night
Making me wonder as I used to wonder at the Western crescent Moon!
Moon is still a mystery though many rockets are sent there for probes
As the dark side of the Moon is still a dark matter for millions of years!
poem by Ramesh T A
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The Whole Of The Moon
I pictured a rainbow
You held in your hands
I had flashes
But you saw then plan
I wondered out in the world for years
While you just stayed in your room
I saw the crescent
You saw the whole of the moon!
The whole of the moon!
You were there at the turnstiles
With the wind at your heels
You stretched for the stars
And you know how it feels
To reach too high
Too far
Too soon
You saw the whole of the moon!
I was grounded
While you filled the skies
I was dumbfounded by truths
You cut through lies
I saw the rain-dirty valley
You saw brigadoon
I saw the crescent
You saw the whole of the moon!
I spoke about wings
You just flew
I wondered, I guessed, and I tried
You just knew
I sighed
But you swooned
I saw the crescent
You saw the whole of the moon!
The whole of the moon!
With a torch in your pocket
And the wind at your heels
You climbed on the ladder
And you know how it feels
To reach too high
Too far
Too soon
You saw the whole of the moon!
The whole of the moon!
Unicorns and cannonballs,
Palaces and piers,
Trumpets, towers, and tenemets,
Wide oceans full of tears,
Flag, rags, ferry boats,
Scimitars and scarves,
Every precious dream and vision
Underneath the stars
You climbed on the ladder
With the wind in your sails
You came like a comet
Blazing your trail
Too high
Too far
Too soon
You saw the whole of the moon!
song performed by by Waterboys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Moon Eater
At night I writhe
Over the despondent grass;
The moon impoverished,
Its entirety guzzled into a
Harlequin crescent
And I see her past one
Of the night's curtains,
Freezing, devouring
Half of the moon
But this I do not know of
For she is in the expanse.
As I lay on my bed
Corrupted and soliloquized,
Gazing at the crescent moon
Far-flung in the downtrodden azure
Thinking,
Where hath gone
The half of the moon?
poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr
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09 - Honour under the Old Oak Tree
Lay low under the old oak tree
Ready to move, ready to break free
Lay low until the dead of night
When the moon awakens and the time is right
When the wolf howls at the crescent moon
And the nightingale sings that old familiar tune
The oldest act of a gentleman's chivalry
Is portrayed to the woman under the old oak tree
The meeting of a woman and her forbidden lover
Stolen moments they devour to be with each other
Never their hands intertwined for others to see
Just un-denying love under the old oak tree
Never permitted unguarded smiles for other to see
Just un-denying love under the old oak tree
poem by Nicola Burkett
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The Moon Does Not Regret Her Winter
The moon does not regret her winter,
Or the torn strands of gray chiffon
That cover her face tonight.
As this dew shelters the dry grass like tears,
And shadows of dark leaves
Wait to wither into morning,
The moon fades,
A goddess,
Empty of desire or light.
No, the moon does not regret
This burial of love.
In the coldness of her solitude,
She will not weep tears of rust,
Or betray herself with petty despair.
The moon does not regret dust,
Or the accumulation of her years,
Or this sadness beneath salt, beneath bone.
She has her own time and place,
that which is eternal surrounds her.
When full, she is round and cold
and then she narrows, changes into perfect crescent.
You were like the moon, I never understood
the subtle ways in which you changed.
I only know that like the moon at crescent,
I, too, have lost three-quarters of myself.
poem by Velene Campbell
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All the Answers Why
Only the answers why
As I gaze at an evening crescent
Only between the sighs
As blood flows, porous, effervescent
So it was this time due
Ripped the scars vertically
For all these feelings...you're
Taken into nothing totally
Yes in my heart I bleed
Day, tomorrow, in eternity
Falling the crescent seed
By night dark within paternity
One hundred and one stitch
Reside to mend this remake fantasy
So flies the weathered witch
Across a crescent moon above me
Second Hand moonlight ray
Second guessing all that which I gave
Will I live to see day
Silence knows but has nothing to save
poem by Midnights Voice
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Winter Night
Sliver of moon,
thin crescent hovers
over
breathless hills.
From night’s broad loom,
empty skies fill
dark rooms
with blackest silk.
O guardian
stars, dropp on my face
your amazing
lace!
poem by Steven Federle
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Now I See You, as The Blue Moon
Now I see you full, my love
As the moon, the Blue moon,
I thought, I did see you;
It was the moon, the Gibbous moon.
You smiled, for me, when you were
The moon, the Crescent moon,
With your pain, on your dark.
You laughed, for me, when you were
The moon, the Half moon,
But now I know, that I saw,
Only the moon, the dark moon,
And thought it, to be,
The moon, the full moon.
©Anees Rahman
poem by Anees Rahman
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Crescent Moon- a ride to the stars
Oh, crescent moon
come down
and give me a ride to the stars
let me see how they smile
and from the faintest to the brightest
let me give them a name.
Oh, crescent moon
come down
and give me a ride to the stars
among them
let me choose the brightest one
and together
let's play all night long.
poem by Marites C. Cayetano
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The Wolf and The Moon
The Wolf and The Moon
By Tolly Rebeka Christian BlackWolf Hawk
The day is past and the Moon now rises from beneath the mountain to greet the stars.
The Moon smiles on the sleeping towns, their drone wound down. However, in the
forest, Life is still flowing full speed. The Owl fly’s his “day” begun, “Who, Halloo
Moon! ” “Hello to you Owl.” The Moon spins on his way. He makes many more
greetings to the animals of the forest. He starts to grow weary, and makes ready to bed
down for the day when the Wolf came to visit and talk as the animals and Moon talk,
“My good friend Wolf! How are you? ” Wolf jumps playfully to and fro, “I am glad
Wolf that it has been good for you! It is almost time for the Sun to come up now, I
have to go home.” The Wolf whimpered and followed the Moon. When the Moon was
almost home he turned to the Wolf and asked, “Why do you follow me? ” the Wolf
jumped and landed in the Moons hands and curled up with a tremendous sigh. “No
Wolf you cannot come with me, not yet, but now that I know you love me we will be
together in spirit, and someday you will be able to come with me to my home to live.”
For years, the Wolf ran with the Moon at night, and then they would part ways at
dawn. One day while the sun was shining brightly the Wolf, now old to earthly eyes,
faded to a wisp of mist from mortal sight, on the night of the New Moon. You could
see, that night, a cloud in his shape running before the Moon, and as the Moon grew
fuller you could see on the face of the Moon a shape like that old Wolf, you could see a
promise kept. The Moon and Wolf were friends, one entity forever.
poem by Tolly Rebeka Christian BlackWolf Hawk
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The Cat And The Moon
THE cat went here and there
And the moon spun round like a top,
And the nearest kin of the moon,
The creeping cat, looked up.
Black Minnaloushe stared at the moon,
For, wander and wail as he would,
The pure cold light in the sky
Troubled his animal blood.
Minnaloushe runs in the grass
Lifting his delicate feet.
Do you dance, Minnaloushe, do you dance?
When two close kindred meet.
What better than call a dance?
Maybe the moon may learn,
Tired of that courtly fashion,
A new dance turn.
Minnaloushe creeps through the grass
From moonlit place to place,
The sacred moon overhead
Has taken a new phase.
Does Minnaloushe know that his pupils
Will pass from change to change,
And that from round to crescent,
From crescent to round they range?
Minnaloushe creeps through the grass
Alone, important and wise,
And lifts to the changing moon
His changing eyes.
poem by William Butler Yeats
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Standing On The Moon
Standing on the moon
I got no cobweb on my shoe
Standing on the moon
Im feeling so alone and blue
I see the gulf of mexico
As tiny as a tear
The coast of california
Must be somewhere over here - over here
Standing on the moon
I see the battle rage below
Standing on the moon
I see the soldiers come and go
Theres a metal flag beside me
Someone planted long ago
Old glory standing stiffly
Crimson, white and indigo - indigo
I see all of southeast asia
I can see el salvador
I hear the cries of children
And the other songs of war
Its like a mighty melody
That rings down from the sky
Standing here upon the moon
I watch it all roll by - all roll by
Standing on the moon
With nothing else to do
A lovely view of heaven
But Id rather be with you
Standing on the moon
I see a shadow on the sun
Standing on the moon
The stars go fading one by one
I hear a cry of victory
And another of defeat
A scrap of age old lullaby
Down some forgotten street
Standing on the moon
Where talk is cheap and vision true
Standing on the moon
But I would rather be with you
Somewhere in san francisco
On a back porch in july
Just looking up to heaven
At this crescent in the sky
Standing on the moon
With nothing left to do
A lovely view of heaven
But Id rather be with you - be with you
song performed by by Grateful Dead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Awed by her splendor
the sun is to me
as the dog is
a delight
the moon is to me
as the cat is
an intellectual challenge
the first light of sun
blazing through copper sky
it's so comforting
refreshing
to mind, heart and soul
harbinger of hope
the unrestrainable
friendliness of the dog
- it oozes with licks
and unstoppable wagging of tail -
first thing at morn
take the worries of the day away
he moon, the moon
its subtle lumininous light
of spiritual and intellecutal bearing
is like the cat
that orchestrates its every movement
in calculated steps
eyes dilating in half, crescent and full crystals
see how it prances like a ninja
when attacking its target
how it gently licks its paws and
legs after its hearty meal
to raise a clever child
get her to admire the moon
as it signs in and out of the sky
each day of the month
in crescent, half and full
inspired by
Awed by her splendor
stars near the lovely
moon cover their own
bright faces
when she
is roundest and lights
earth with her silver
Sappho
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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That Is You
High tide...that is the effect of a round moon up in the air
Such a befitting term that never fails to amaze people
Like the heart, when close to its round moon, its beat fastens
and causes catostrophic things.
Afterwards, the round moon becomes far again
And loses its half or perhas becomes a crescent moon.
All is lost with the going of the moonlight
And its powerful gravitation on the sea that is you.
poem by Angela R. M. Ferrer
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Anemos Cries With The Wolf
The lightening clashes in the sky
thunder roars
rain crashes to the ground
dark clouds consume the all
a cursive wind blows
critters take warning
Luna has vanished
midnight is upon us
wind chimes sing
leaves dance in the wind to their tune
the anemoi are displeased
their howls echo
the wind has a mind of it's own
It calls to me
guides me
a wolf crawls from his den
as untamed as anemos
he cries to the moon
Sol soon begins to rise
breathless and tired
the wolf stumbles back to his den
and awaits another moonless night to sing his lonely song
poem by by unknown author
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She.
She was tall and proud and graceful,
long laughing red hair framed her face.
Her sea green eyes, calm and serene,
looked at the world with a level gaze.
Generous lips in a half smile
above a firmly rounded jaw.
Small ears nestled close to her head
in each a golden crescent moon.
Even white teeth showed when she smiled.
Clad in a plain green linen dress,
the swelling curves of her firm breasts
were balanced by her rounded hips.
She showed no fear nor yet surprise,
but looked at me with interest.
She spoke, her voice was soft and sweet
In a language I did not know.
I only know my heart was gone,
plucked from me by her mystery.
She smiled and took my hand
and took me whither I should go.
She led me to a small cabin
alone and hidden in the trees.
There without words or need of words,
we came together lovingly.
We loved and slept and slept and loved,
until the evening twilight fell.
In happiness with limbs entwined
we settled in the soft darkness.
I was woken by bright sunlight
In a bramble patch, stiff and sore.
My strange love was nowhere to be seen,
but in my hand a crescent moon.
For thirty years I have returned
faithfully each summer.
In forlorn hope she would appear.
She kept my heart. I kept my faith.
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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The Wayward Wolf and Winter Owl
The wayward wolf howls to the misty moon,
His heart filled with sorrow,
That he spills into dead of night,
And echoes into silence of another cry,
Never stopping to let his weary feet rest,
Intensifying his cry.
The winter owl soars below the hollow moon,
Singing its sad tune,
Into sight as it sings and sighs,
Catching the sight of a wayward weary eye,
Together they meet and greet the rising of the dreary moon,
Filling their songs with the tune of the morrow,
Blending their hearts and souls in the tune of the morning’s morrow.
‘Till the moon doth rise again
poem by Talia Anziliero
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Chemistry of Poetry
do you remember
the strange language
the sky spoke that night
as we engrossed ourselves
in each other in a corner
of the balcony to the southwest?
curious of the blabber
the crescent peeped
from nowhere
hey, let's sail
in that crescent boat
on waves of ripened
milky moonlight,
i proposed
be reasonable
isn't it incongrous
you said fondly
twitching my nose
well well...
show me the place for
reason logic science
in this exclusive chemistry
of poetry that connects
you to me,
i said smiling
a star till then lurking
and sailing behind
a patch of cloud
quickly showed up
the crescent
the star
the wind
the galaxies
stood still in
pregnant silence...
poem by Indira Babbellapati (04 June 2009)
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A total lunar eclipse poem
total darkness on a wedding night
except the flickering candle that
plays out out his anxiety to take
a peek of the moon (bride)
the sun (father) has afforded him
he would tilt the veil to let the light
of a hundred moons shine through her face
he would look at her the way an eclipse has
cleared the path for the moon to shine
the full moon that turns into a crescent
to be shrouded in his bossom so that
it glows a warm and sweet orange
and she will peek into his face the way
the eclipse reveals the secrets of the full moon
first a crescent and then its full splendour,
a husband at last to light the way to her future days
###in the old days in China a man would only know how his wife looked
like on the wedding night and vice versa. the eclipse looks very much
the way a chinese man tilt the veil over the head of wife as he takes a peek of her face.
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Crescent Moon Over Over The Eiffel Tower
First I think of Jesus, or not actually Jesus,
but the vapour trail from a jet, which makes
a line across the hard sky parallel with the top
of my window, which makes me think of Apollinaire
who said in a poem that Jesus is the holder
of the world high altitude record, a truly modern
aviator, and that’s how I think of Jesus,
being in Paris and all, the thing with Apollinaire.
But I’m looking at the line the vapour trail makes,
which way up in the sky would form a perfect T
with the tip of the Eiffel Tower (the tip of the
Tour Eiffel sounds better in a poem) if the Tour Eiffel
were a fair whack higher. You know what I mean:
blue symmetries of summer. And then I notice,
and here’s what the poem’s about, when my eyes
are making the imaginary T, just above the point
where my imaginary much higher Tour Eiffel
would meet the vapour trail, a crescent moon.
A crescent moon so thin and faint it’s almost not there
in the hot white Paris sky. But it is there,
and it’s above the Eiffel Tower, pardon,
la Tour Eiffel, and it’s above the vapour trail
that Jesus in a jet has made. What do I learn
from this experience? Well, in two weeks’ time,
if the weather holds, and it should, there’ll be
a fat full moon over Paris, and I’m up the hill
in Montmartre, with a view to fucking die for.
I can see three quarters of the sky, so I’m sure
that around two weeks from now, one way
or another, I’ll be seeing that fat full moon.
And this is a thought that is not at all unpleasant.
poem by Luke Davies
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