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The lost lagoon

It is dusk on the Lost Lagoon,
And we two dreaming the dusk away,
Beneath the drift of a twilight grey,
Beneath the drowse of an ending day,
And the curve of a golden moon.

It is dark in the Lost Lagoon,
And gone are the depths of haunting blue,
The grouping gulls, and the old canoe,
The singing firs, and the dusk and--you,
And gone is the golden moon.

O! lure of the Lost Lagoon,--
I dream to-night that my paddle blurs
The purple shade where the seaweed stirs,
I hear the call of the singing firs
In the hush of the golden moon.

poem by Emily Pauline Johnson
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Evening In June

(Van Morrison)
By the light of the moon
When the night holds the secrets
Of the sleepy lagoon
I'm contemplating moonlight
On the water
When I'm walking with you
On an evening in June
On an evening in June
It can get so sentimental
When I'm thinking of you
And I can't think of anything
Except being with you
When the summer is through
On an evening in June
On an evening in June
Well it lifts me up
When I'm talking to you
On an evening in June
When the flowers are in bloom
And the sky is so blue
Well there's so many things
Taking place
That it's hard to keep up with it all
Keep your eye on the ball
And to make the right call
When we're longing for fall
On this evening in June
[Instrumental break]
On an evening in June
Well it lifts me up
When I'm talking to you
On an evening in June
When the flowers are in bloom
And the sky is so blue
Well there's so many things taking place
That it's hard to keep up with it all
Keep your eye on the ball
And to make the right call
When we're longing for fall
On this evening in June
By the sleepy lagoon
On an evening in June
By the light of the moon
By the sleepy lagoon
On an evening in June
On an evening in June
By the sleepy lagoon
By the light of the moon
By the sleepy lagoon
On an evening in June

song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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One night we walked

When it still was there
one night we walked
hand in hand on the white beach
at Uvongo
and there was no wind
on the lagoon
and the waves crashed from the sea
and I could hear the waterfall
splashing into the lagoon
and a great yellow moon
was magical in the sky
and somehow that world
was just made for you and me.

poem by Gert Strydom
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Twilight

When a heavy surf is droning

In the twilight on the bar;
When our Mother Sea is crooning

Her quaint cradle-song afar;

When the wild black swans are lining
To some still, remote lagoon;

And above the headland, shining,
Hangs a quiet, crescent moon;

When the panoply, the splendor

Of the tropic sunset dies, —
Then my Fancy turns to tender

Dreams beneath the queenly skies.

Dear-loved Loadstone of my longing.
Fair, fond Woman of my heart!

When the twilight thoughts are thronging.
Art thou dreaming, too, apart?

Yes, my Spirit echoes truly;

'Circling seas shall, with the tide.
Pulse on either shore of Thule,

In the Dream Beatified.

'Surely as the mystic Crescent
Silvers now a garden fair,
Will the shining, white, liquescent
Light of Love burn also there!**

So I mourn not that the splendor
Of the dead Day lies in pall.

When the Night her brooding, tender
Wings of fantasy lets fall.

In the dusk Tm sitting, building
Tall cloud-castles by the sea ;

In the dusk my Love is gilding
Castles fair for her and me.

poem by Edwin James Brady
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A White Night

THE land lay deluged by the Moon;
The molten silver of the lake
Shimmered in many a broad lagoon
Between grey isles, whose copse and brake
Lay folded on the water's breast
Like halcyons in a floating nest.

And like a child who trusts in God
When in the dark it lies alone,
Stretched on the aromatic sod
My heart was laid against your own,
Against your heart, which seemed to be
Mine own to all Eternity.

Lapped in illimitable light,
The woods and waters seemed to swoon,
And clouds like angels-winged the night
And slipped away into the Moon,
Lost in that radiant flame above
As we were lapped and lost in love.

poem by Mathilde Blind
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There was a gorgeous summer

There was a gorgeous summer
at the sea,
when she still loved me.

She sat under a umbrella on Uvongo beach
and the hot water,
of the lagoon touched our feet.

She smiled and her hand was in mine
and her dark curls,
hugged her face.

I rubbed lotion unto her back
and the softness of every curve,
felt like magic to my hands.

We watched the azure blue sea
and children dived from the hillock past the waterfall,
somersaulting into the lagoon.

Like all great holiday’s that one passed to soon
and like our relationship,
Uvongo beach and the lagoon is gone.

poem by Gert Strydom
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Fragment

Moon of leaves,
Moon of the falling leaves,
To you I bring the slippers
of the sun.
That you may dance upon the
floor of sun,
My lady carries sun within her eyes.
Moon of the Unrevealed,
Moon of the gold-encrusted shield,
To you I bring the fragment
of my prayer.

Moon of the crinkled hair,
Tell me, will my lady yield
Eyes and mouth and breasts unsealed?
Will my lady yield?

Moon of the yellow streaked with red,
Moon that the sun would lead to bed,
Moon with the death's head
More than dead,
Why do you frighten the Goddess of Love,
Whose frail white fingers are moving above
The lover's white body lost in his love?
Moon, you are more than dead.

Moon of the ermine loist in the snow,
Moon of the frozen furbelow,
Moon of the nothingness here below,
Moon, you must go.

It is the Sun that tells you so-
Moon, you must go.

And I was dark beneath the moon,
And you were dark beneath the moon,
And we were dark beneath the moon.

Now I am gold beneath the sun,
Now you are gold beneath the sun,
Now we are gold beneath the Sun.

poem by Harry Crosby
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Moon, We Look to You.

Moon, you have a shade of blue tonight –
Is it something that you saw or heard?
Only yesterday, your tone was proud and bright,
Yellow silver, full, and so assured.

Moon, despite the clarity of sky,
Metaphors of cloud that fluff with grey
Drift across your rounded face to spy;
Feeding back, there's awfully much to say.

Moon, you have a role to play up there –
We below must bear the earthly pain.
Duty bound, we shoulder sorrows fair –
You are free from our grotesque disdain.

Moon, we depend on you to shine
When the sun retires down below.
Add to that your grandest role divine:
Tidal Lord, to keep the seas in tow!

Moon, I hope you take to heart our plea –
Needless is the reason for your blue.
Beaming, you should give the night its glee:
We're despairing – so we look to you.

Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009

Moon moon, moon so blue, moon, moon so blue
Moon moon, moon so blue, moon, moon so blue
Moon moon, moon so blue, moon, moon so blue
Moon moon, moon so blue, moon, moon so blue
Moon moon, moon so blue, moon, moon so blue

poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Haunted In Old Japan

I
Music of the star-shine shimmering o’er the sea
Mirror me no longer in the dusk of memory:
Dim and white the rose-leaves drift along the shore
Wind among the roses, blow no more!

II
All along the purple creek, lit with silver foam,
Silent, silent voices, cry no more of home;
Soft beyond the cherry-trees, o’er the dim lagoon,
Dawns the crimson lantern of the large low moon.

III
We that loved in April, we that turned away
Laughing, ere the wood-dove crooned across the May,
Watch the withered rose-leaves drift along the shore.
Wind among the roses, blow no more!

IV
We that saw the winter waste the weeping bower,
We that saw the young love perish like a flower,
We that saw the dark eyes deepening with tears,
Hear the vanished voices in the land beyond the years.

V
We that hurt the thing we loved; we that went astray,
We that in the darkness idly dreamed of day . . .
. . . Ah! The dreary rose-leaves drift along the shore.
Wind among the roses, blow no more!

VI
Lonely starry faces, wonderful and white,
Yearning with a cry across the dim sweet night,
All our dreams are blown a-drift as flowers before a fan,
All our hearts are haunted in the heart of old Japan.

VII
Haunted, haunted, haunted; we that mocked and sinned
Hear the vanished voices wailing down the wind,
Watch the ruined rose-leaves drift along the shore;
Wind among the roses, blow no more!

VIII
We, the sons of reason, we that chose to bride
Knowledge and rejected the Dream that we denied,
We that mocked the Holy Ghost and chose the Son of Man, [1]
Now must wander haunted in the heart of old Japan

IX
Haunted, haunted, haunted, by the sound of falling tears,
Haunted, haunted, haunted, by the yearning of the years;
Ah! the phantom rose-leaves drift along the shore;
Wind among the roses, blow no more!

X
All along the purple creek, lit with silver foam,
Sobbing, sobbing voices, cry no more of home:
Soft beyond the cherry trees, o’er the dim lagoon,
Dawns the crimson lantern of the large, low moon.

poem by Alfred Noyes
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My Father’s Son

Once
when I was still a baby boy
obsessed, thrilled with dark night sky
father said, shut your eyes tightly
then sailed I into dark night sky
dreaming of my arms
dipping in deep, dark-blue velvety
palpating golden sheen of the golden full moon
snatching twinkling stars.

But

i fell like lead
just before hard ground
to my father’s arms- veinated, calloused
his chirped nails safely grabbed
then
i opened my eyes
stretching my empty arms, pink nails
for a earnest glimpse of
a dip of deep, dark-blue velvety
golden sheen of the golden full moon
snatched twinkling stars.

and I felt sad.

Then-

father buried his head on my nape
his grizzly beard tickling my face
making little ‘blurp’ ‘blurp’ sounds
my shrill laughter
accosting his deep throaty laughter
echoing my disappointment into dark night sky
before sailing me into dark night sky
back to his rough-gentle arms
again
again
and again
to dip in deep, dark-blue velvety
palpate golden sheen of the golden full moon
snatching twinkling stars.

“Drink all Ma’s omena* soup
to be taller, reach the dark night sky”
father said, following my gaze
into the dark night sky
static radio bleating reggae
golden full moon bathing us in golden sheen
just me and my father
sleeping in his rough-gentle arms
dreaming of my arms
dipping in deep, dark-blue velvety
palpating golden sheen of the golden full moon
snatching twinkling stars

poem by Manuel Odeny
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When The Blue Bird Sings

oh! the wind cries with it
when the blue bird begins to sing
when the night is so cold
when the moon hides behind
the clouds

oh! the leaves begin to hush
and sympathize
but the blue bird does not stop singing
and then it stops
at dusk
it is no longer there

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Why Look At The Moon

Willows were swaying
The water was rippling
The froggies were singing
Along with the laughing at the bank
We have the moon to thank
For this lovely scene
We might never have seen
If it hadnt have been for the moon
Why, look at that moon
Away up high, seeing everything
That goes by
Why, look at that moon
Why, why, why, look at the moon
Why, why, why, look at the moon
Sitting in the desert
Beneath a lonesome sky
Cool, my oh my, it would be
If it never been above
That fateful little boy
That one who has beheld true love through history
Why must it start?
Why must lovers part?
Why does the cheatin go on?
Why have hearts turned to stone?
Why, look at that moon
Away up high, seeing everything
That goes by
Why, look at that moon
Why, why, why, look at the moon
Why, why, why, look at the moon
Why, look at that moon
Aint it grand!
Why, look at that moon
Helps me understand
Why, look at that moon
Inspirator of many a dream
Why, look at that moon

song performed by by Waterboys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Twilight (sijo)

Brightly hot the sun shines down on some lovely summer days
while the golden moon smiles romantically during long nights,
where are we with dawn or dusk when twilight divides the two?

poem by Gert Strydom
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This Twilight Garden

I lift my lips from kissing you
To kiss the sky
Cloud soft and blue
And slow the sun melts down
Into your golden words for me
I lift my hands from touching you
To touch the wind that whispers through
This twilight garden
Turns into a world
Where dreams are real
No-one will ever take your place
I am lost in you
No-one will ever take your place
So in love with you
I lift my eyes from watching you
To watch the star rise shine onto
Your dreaming face and dreaming smile
You're dreaming worlds
For me
I lift my lips from kissing you
And kiss the sky wide deepest blue
And slow the moon swims up
Into your golden words
For me
No-one will ever take your place
I am lost in you
No-one will ever take your place
So in love with you

song performed by by Cure
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Never is she shut #never is she shut

You are my Sun.
You are now set.
You brought me dawn
Everyday at ten.
You sent me dusk
Everyday at five.
Weekend two days,
You left me in dark.

You shone on me for brief,
But heavily, brightly
And deeply with warmth.
That referred warmth
Spread all the night.
I felt the shine of my Sun,
Off the dusk, at full night.
My night is brightly lit.

Now my sun is set.
Where is my dawn?
Where is my dusk?
Where is the sunny day?
Where is my beauty?
Who will there be to lit
My night-full day?
And dreaded night?

You be a Moon, now on.
Waxing and waning,
Be always on horizon
So that there comes
Once a while a full-moon,
To imbue me with life.
My day-less night
Is lit with Moonlight.

You be my stars, farther.
You twinkle and twinkle
At me high from horizon!
With your news, beckon!
With your heart, command!
I am in the bath of starlight.
My night-full day is lit.

My sun, though, is set,
No dark is there at night.
She is there as Moon.
She is there as Stars.
Though she is set as Sun.
I’m now a nocturnal.
She can never be set
Out of my heart and soul.
11.06.99

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Wheels

Since I am sick of Wheels
That jar my day,
Unto the hush that heals
I steal away.
Unto the core of Peace
Nature reveals,
I go to win release
From Wheels.

Let me beneath the moon
Take desert trail;
Or on some lost lagoon
Serenely sail;
Win to some peak the grey
Storm cloud conceals . . .
Life, let me get away
From Wheels!

Why was I born so late?
A skin-clad man
I should have shared the fate
Of mountain clan;
My quiet flock beside,
When silence steals,
Unshocked in eventide
By Wheels.

The Wheel is King today,
And speed's a god;
Yet when I see the way
My feet have trod,
Like pilgrims who to shrine
Of Beauty kneels,
I pray: O Peace divine
Damn Wheels!

poem by Robert William Service
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Moonset

Idles the night wind through the dreaming firs,
That waking murmur low,
As some lost melody returning stirs
The love of long ago;
And through the far, cool distance, zephyr fanned.
The moon is sinking into shadow-land.

The troubled night-bird, calling plaintively,
Wanders on restless wing;
The cedars, chanting vespers to the sea,
Await its answering,
That comes in wash of waves along the strand,
The while the moon slips into shadow-land.

O! soft responsive voices of the night
I join your minstrelsy,
And call across the fading silver light
As something calls to me;
I may not all your meaning understand,
But I have touched your soul in shadow-land.

poem by Emily Pauline Johnson
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When dusk creeps through the windows

When dusk creeps through the windows
with the big old oak tree etched against the sky,
the eastern horizon gleams outside,

the morning star hangs is a beacon that bridges the night,
while the golden moon fades away
with the big old oak tree etched against the sky

the night is driven away, chased
by the sun rising burning
while the golden moon fades away,

the morning is fresh like an unfolding flower
while the birds, the insects, the animals are woken
by the sun rising burning

with blinding white light, stretching out its rays
and I am getting awake
while the birds, the insects, the animals are woken

and the day has already belted its gleaming chord.
When dusk creeps through the windows
and I am getting awake
the eastern horizon gleams outside.

poem by Gert Strydom
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The Gift

She paces
By his side
On a quiet street,
Leafy and wide.
The evening air is balmy
And a golden half moon
Of August
Hangs high
In the sky.

"How beautiful is the Moon",
She says,
"Brighter than in June.
"A pity it is not full tonight".

"You know",
He tells her smiling,
"This thing may sound
Really puzzling,
But,
The part missing
From the Moon,
Is actually hidden
In a lagoon.
Nevertheless,
I offer it to you as a gift,
Before the scene
Would alter and shift,
And for good measure,
Fortune and luck,
I will pluck
For you
The other half, too,
So that you will possess
And own quite soon
The complete moon".

"Oh, no", she says,
"I don't want the moon,
Neither half,
Nor the whole of it,
I don't want it soon
Nor in next June.
Not even a small part.
Just give me, instead,
Your uncut heart".

poem by Paul Hartal
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Dusk last light

As noon last light
end slowly,
the twilight sleep
tiredly,
with promise of rise
up tomorrow,
to borrow many things
coldly.
is this you dusk?

and the roads become
unseen
slowly, moon appears boldly
to show correct way,

why are you so pretty dusk?
to attract me or to
distract me
yes! dusk its you with
pretty orange face
gods wonderful grace.....

poem by Deep Doloi
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The Voice And The Dusk

THE slender moon and one pale star,
A rose leaf and a silver bee
From some god's garden blown afar,
Go down the gold deep tranquilly.

Within the south there rolls and grows
A mighty town with tower and spire,
From a cloud bastion masked with rose
The lightning flashes diamond fire.

The purple martin darts about
The purlieus of the iris fen;
The king-bird rushes up and out,
He screams and whirls and screams again.

A thrush is hidden in a maze
Of cedar buds and tamarac bloom,
He throws his rapid flexile phrase,
A flash of emeralds in the gloom.

A voice is singing from the hill
A happy love of long ago;
Ah! tender voice, be still, be still,
''Tis sometimes better not to know.'

The rapture from the amber height
Floats tremblingly along the plain,
Where in the reeds with fairy light
The lingering fireflies gleam again.

Buried in dingles more remote,
Or drifted from some ferny rise,
The swooning of the golden throat
Drops in the mellow dusk and dies.

A soft wind passes lightly drawn,
A wave leaps silverly and stirs
The rustling sedge, and then is gone
Down the black cavern in the firs.

poem by Duncan Campbell Scott
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