The Silver Lily
The nights have grown cool again, like the nights
Of early spring, and quiet again. Will
Speech disturb you? We're
Alone now; we have no reason for silence.
Can you see, over the garden-the full moon rises.
I won't see the next full moon.
In spring, when the moon rose, it meant
Time was endless. Snowdrops
Opened and closed, the clustered
Seeds of the maples fell in pale drifts.
White over white, the moon rose over the birch tree.
And in the crook, where the tree divides,
Leaves of the first daffodils, in moonlight
Soft greenish-silver.
We have come too far together toward the end now
To fear the end. These nights, I am no longer even certain
I know what the end means. And you, who've been
With a man--
After the first cries,
Doesn't joy, like fear, make no sound?
poem by Louise Gluck
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Related quotes
Our Moon
July 1989
Alone I watched the Full Moon rise tonight.
The same Moon rose over you just hours ago.
Did you also watch it rise? Did clouds obscure the view?
Was your night as fine for stargazing?
When the Moon is just starting to clime my horizon
It is finishing its' journey across your sky.
Were you still awake to watch it set?
Did dreams call you away?
Tonight I will watch till this Moon leaves to find you again.
The calendar says each Moon shines on you first.
But the Moon doesn't follow... it leads!
Full Moon... Full Circle
Ruler of tides
My Moon first tonight.
I shall wish it safely back to you.
Last July the Moon carried grief for me.
Was your Moon full of Joy then?
I know it wounds you now.
Once Full Moons of June saw each of us born
Your Moon predating mine in years.
Round Moon... pale circular symbol of eternity
First seen by you... then me... then back again
This Moon connects us, at least in my own heart.
Allow me to wish it back to you fuller, brighter.
The July Moon rises Full over us tonight.
Full... of Promise
poem by Mary Havran
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Gibbous over Wood
The moon is not yet grown -
It is at the doorstep of maturity.
But still its light comes down
Through the broadleaf wood.
Here and there, a leaf is silver,
Chosen favorite of the moon,
While the other trees shiver
In the dark with envy.
The moon is not yet grown –
It is brilliant in its youth.
It is to the sun a mirror
And to the sky a mouth.
There is a light about a tree
A white wedding-gown,
Shall the moon wed the tree
Before it is yet grown?
The moon is not yet grown –
It is confident, though,
And shines with great spirit,
Piercing the wood through.
There is a path across the river,
Wrought in silver stone.
The moon mocks the walker
Who takes the path and drowns.
poem by Sophia White
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Dearest Man-in-the-Moon
Dearest man-in-the-moon,
ever since our lunch of cheese
& moonjuice
on the far side of the sun,
I have walked the craters of New York,
a trail of slime
ribboning between my legs,
a phosphorescent banner
which is tied to you,
a beam of moonlight
focused on your navel,
a silver chain
from which my body dangles,
& my whole torso chiming
like sleigh bells in a Russian novel.
Dearest man-on-the-moon,
I used to fear moonlight
thinking her my mother.
I used to dread nights
when the moon was full.
I used to scream
'Pull down the shade!'
because the moonface leered at me,
because I felt her mocking,
because my fear lived in me
like rats in a wheel of cheese.
You have eaten out my fear.
You have licked
the creamy inside of the moon.
You have kissed
the final crescent of my heart
& made it full.
poem by Erica Jong
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I Planted a Rose Tree
I planted a rose tree in my garden,
In early days when the year was young;
I thought it would bear me roses, roses,
While nights were dewy and days were long.
It bore me once, and a white rose only--
A lovely rose with petals of light;
Like the moon in heaven, supreme and lonely;
And the lightning struck it one summer night.
poem by Mathilde Blind
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Moon After Day
Moon shed a tear
Moon give me fear
Moon light my way
Moon after day
Moon give me strength
Moon has no length
What I want to say,
Is Moon after day
Moon is full
Moon is dull
Moon light my way
Moon after day
Moon is my life
Moon gave me a knife
Moon slit my wrist
Moon a wonderful bliss
What I want to say
Moon after day!
The Rose Tree Of Winter
In the cold winds of Winter she stands thorny and bare
In Summer large beautiful red flowers she did wear
The Rose tree of Winter not a pretty sight
At a time of year with litle warmth in the sunlight,
When the birds in the sunlit gardens will nest and sing
She will wear her new leaves and rosebuds of the Spring
As a tree the rose tree does not grow very tall
Compared to most trees she does seem very small
But in her full bloom none as lovely as she
In her cloak of flowers she's a beautiful tree
But in Winter she stands there by the garden wall
Of the garden trees the most forlorn one of all
And though it may still be a few months from the Spring
The white backed magpie on the blackwood tree sing
But without her leaves and flowers prickly looking and bare
The rose tree looks drab in the cool morning air.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Moon
the moon is the centre
of the night
carving darkness
into shapes
releasing shadows
from their souls
the moon
unleashes
hidden power
into the world
causing the sea to swirl
my fear to grow
the surgeon's
nervous first cut
where blood oozes
to the size of the moon
on beds too
two love birds sing
their passion to
the unilluminated
part of the moon
two cats launch their
roucous foreplay
in the alleyway
tickling insomniacs
offering a comic respite
to their plight
the full moon
multiplies evil
and witchcraft
in the hissing of the bats
hoots of the owls
and the towering trees
that have greeted it 100,000 days
underneath which
even my shadow shrinks
to a half moon
i know why a hundred witches spring
to action on such nights
i wish not to die on
a full moon night
though it has shed its light
in a million love poems
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Moonlight Sestina
While reading Li Po, I fall
Asleep, and dream of the moon
My body lies on white
Cool sheets, flooded in a pool
Of moonlight. Lost in a dream
I lie in light, floating.
Like a full moon floating
On waves, I feel the fall
And rise, the tide of these dream
Currents. Closer, the moon
Approaches to my pool
Of flesh, shining me white.
From the glare of waxing white,
Gauze curtains – breeze floating -
Shield this rippling pool,
Become a waterfall,
And break the mirror moon-
Light through wet prisms, I dream.
Is this Shechinah? my dream
Self asks. At once the cold white
Chills me to ice. The moon
Swells until it's a floating
City, waiting to fall -
Atlantis – in the pool.
I yearn to be that pool
Skin, transparent as dream.
Instead I fear the moon fall:
I cannot part the white
Sea of thighs, Still floating
Whole, I cry to the moon:
“I am not ready, Moon”
Silence shimmers my pool,
But brightness fades, Floating
Away. Then from the dream
I emerge, weeping white
Tears that shine like star-fall.
Li Po's moon plunge sank dream
Deep. Whirlpool of lunar white
Drowns us; floating, we fall.
poem by Lillian Susan Thomas
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Moonlight Memories
Sweet and sad
moon light always beads
the lace with memory leads
in my teens
my hormones oozed out
as I curl out
in the moon lit night
as I grew up
my dreams and loves
all blazed in the cool moon
my blood boiled blushed with delight
all the fantasies
all the sweetest memories
romantic webs knit across
the full moon sky with millions stars.
the nights were awake
when she peeped inside
I loved her in watery beds
silvery threads woven in filmy sheds
yet, she weighed upon my nights
when my mother breathed that night
just that night and nomore right
as she blazed at distant sight
I waited till midnight
to relieve motherless plight
at the courtyard bereft
of lovely mother's gait.
the shroud of moon light
now fell upon me tight
it choked me breathless
freezing attractions gayless
I still wonder at full moon nights
if my mother did come out of the grave
and did she engrave her love upon the pave
did the wintry dews make her shiver
and did she cry and groan in fever
the icy night evoked further
terrible sights of dead ones dear
Still, I could not bury the delicate mother
banishing the memories of full moon weather.
poem by Lalitha Iyer
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Here Comes The Moon
Everybodys talking up a storm
Act like they dont notice it
But here it is and here it comes . . .
Here comes the moon, the moon, the moon, the moon, the moon.
Impulse always quickens when its full
As it turns my head around me
Yes it does and here it comes
Here comes the moon, the moon, the moon, the moon, the moon.
Gods gift I see thats moving up there into the night . . .
Though dark the mirror in the sky reflects us our light:
Looks like a little brother to the sun
Or mother to the stars at night
And here it is and here it comes
Here comes the moon, the moon, the moon, the moon, the moon.
Breath is always taken when its new
Enhance upon the clouds around it
Yes it is and here it comes
Here comes the moon, the moon, the moon.
song performed by by George Harrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Full Moon, Shared Now You Are...
On a Full Moon Night
I met a Friend so Knowledgeable
and educated much to teach, give and share
A Moon Lover also he was,
by research, books, studies and his own secrets
A Moon Lover I grew up as Always seeking its Light
Admiring its Powerful Romance, Mystery and messages
So there he was, my new friend,
And There it is tonight
The Full Moon not mine alone anymore
But a remembrance of my friend
Is he also looking at you Goddess Moon?
Maybe yes, Maybe later...
For fact his Memory Is...
So back in time I go...
What would I have done differently?
Nice I was, Polite was him
With a nice Goodbye hug
I Said: 'Thank you for being a Gentleman'
Well done it was,
No karma, no harm
Just fun, Pure Friendship
No reason to go Back
No reason to remember
But to Share forever I must now
My Full moon Nights...
Triggered it’s now by Trust and Faith
To the Past Gentleman Friend
Please let’s not split in half
Our Full Moon Night!
poem by Florida Angel
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Full Moon
Havent you noticed a kind of madness in my eyes?
Its only me, dear, in my midnight disguise.
Pay no attention if I crawl across the room.
Its just another full moon.
Dont be afraid of me when Im walking in my sleep.
Dont get alarmed, dear, when I start to crawl and creep.
Try not to listen when I mumble like a loon.
Its just another full moon.
Its just another full moon.
You see before you a truly broken man.
cause when it gets to midnight, I dont know who I am.
Full moons a-callin, and its put a curse on me,
And it will never set me free.
The full moons still up there,
Like a great white balloon.
The owls are a-callin,
And theyre singin my tune.
The night keeps a-callin.
I wish the day would come soon,
To get away from another full moon.
Here comes another full moon.
If your hands start shakin
When night starts to fall,
If youre scared of the moonlight
And the shadows on the wall,
If the face in the mirror
Isnt you at all,
Its just another full moon.
Its just another full moon.
La la la la la la.
La la la la la la.
La la la la la la.
La la la la la la.
Its just another full moon.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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Li Po drowns
Li Po sits drinking wine;
he is in his garden
below the tree
reciting his poems to the night
and he sings to the cool air
and he sings to the moon
and he drinks more in between
Li Po walks to the lake
and he sings to the moon:
I will come to you, beloved
I will come to you
for you have waited for me centuries
for you have glowed nights
looking for me;
I will come to you, even now,
beloved moon,
I will come to you, even now
and Li Po walks to his boat
and he rows his boat
and he rows his boat gleefully
and he rows singing
and Li Po is in the middle of the lake
and he stops there to look at his beloved
whose radiant wholeness
shimmers in the water
and Li Po sings always
his song of love to his moon:
I will come to you, beloved
I will come to you
for you have waited for me centuries
for you have glowed nights
looking for me;
I will come to you, even now,
beloved moon,
I will come to you, even now
and Li Po jumps into the lake
and he struggles and he swims
and he swims and he struggles
and he sings:
I come to you, beloved,
I come to you
you who have waited centuries for me
radiant and a-glow in the sky
I come to you now
and he swims towards the distorted moon in the lake
and he beats his hands at the moon in the lake
and Li Po struggles
and Li Po clutches at the watery moon
and Li Po is his with his beloved
after centuries he is come
and Li Po is with his love
Li Po is with his beloved moon:
Li Po flies to the moon; Li Po flies to the moon
poem by Raj Arumugam
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Moon of the fourteenth
Behind the clouds when the moon slipped
The light then hid in the shadows
I felt your lips then on my cheek
As you lifted my finger to the sky
We wrote our name on the stars
Not for luck but for us to remember
On lonely nights someday
Things that we did in the moonlit nights
When u turned my face and touched
Those pink lips again the moon rose from the east
Like sun your eyes shone with passion
The tear now I shed was long gone
Whispered the moon of the fourteenth
sequel to poem 'moon of the fourteenth' by poet sadiqullah khan
poem by Reshma Ramesh
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Mid-March
It is too early for white boughs, too late
For snows. From out the hedge the wind lets fall
A few last flakes, ragged and delicate.
Down the stripped roads the maples start their small,
Soft, ’wildering fires. Stained are the meadow stalks
A rich and deepening red. The willow tree
Is woolly. In deserted garden-walks
The lean bush crouching hints old royalty,
Feels some June stir in the sharp air and knows
Soon ’twill leap up and show the world a rose.
The days go out with shouting; nights are loud;
Wild, warring shapes the wood lifts in the cold;
The moon’s a sword of keen, barbaric gold,
Plunged to the hilt into a pitch black cloud.
poem by Lizette Woodworth Reese
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Moon Tonight
The turn my car took on Bandra flyover
Helped me see the part of sky with Moon.
And she looked round-faced – full Moon?
Chauffeur had steadied the car, I was not sure.
Mind went back a few years to my Delhi home
I had counted the full moons to my retirement:
Tried to go up on my terrace in Lodhi Garden
On every bright moon-lit night, alas, alone.
Now I wonder how many full moons before death?
But I don’t know how to time the interval between
Now and Death’s arrival for me: why not every one?
Perhaps there can be no better addition of riches to life.
From home, I put off TV, wore shoes, closed door,
And went down to walk under the Moon: she was
On the East at an angle: only if I walk East I see her.
Now I pass the lane between FDA and Artek Nagar.
I see the bits of broken Moon through the dark foliage
Of the trees, sometimes branches, some leaves in pairs
Asleep, while palm leaves swaying a lullaby gently,
Brushing on, without ever touching, the distant moon.
As I went on the main BKC road, I could see the full
Moon on this clear November sky in broad gaps
Where there were no cassia or queen’s tree, and
No star near, or even far, to distract my attention.
I enjoyed seeing the moon, rather self-consciously,
Keeping track of whether anyone passing by
Is watching me watch the Moon, to think “Is he
A poet or just lunatic, about to fall into a pot-hole? '
Before I turned homewards, I felt sad, very sad
To think that the full Moon is absolutely lost
In the lit streets with headlights and neon-lamps
That one has to search for the moon to see her.
poem by Daniel Trevelyn Joseph
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A Portrait
LIKE the sway of the silver birch in the breeze of dawn
Is her dainty way;
Like the gray of a twilight sky or a starlit lawn
Are her eyes of gray;
Like the clouds in their moving white
Is her breast's soft stir;
And white as the moon and bright
Is the soul of her.
Like murmur of woods in spring ere the leaves be green,
Like the voice of a bird
That sings by a stream that sings through the night unseen,
So her voice is heard.
And the secret her eyes withhold
In my soul abides,
For white as the moon and cold
Is the heart she hides.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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A Child Remembers His Mother's Death...
She passed one full moon night...
Don't ask me the day...when it was...
Long from now...
A vague remembrance...of charcoal burning...burning slow anxious pain...
It was one full moon night...
When I had not slept...it was the first night before which, sleep had taken me in her warm feathers...
Where she fled from that night...
My eyes o’er the sleepless stars...
Sought her return...
The night when fear was known to me...
The greatest fears of all...
Fear of losing...
It was one full moon night...
Don't ask me the day
I had grown in a night...
My amuse...
She passed and I just looked...
And looked
Passed to where...
Know I not...
Full moon night ‘t was...
Like today...
Its consistent routines...
Slipped she to irregular tracks..
Past pale radiance
Pale radiance to shine o’er faint nostalgia...
(Woke from innocent carelessness...
To what...I amused... it was uncomfortable...awkward...just too bad to be real.)
poem by Lama Abbas
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Moon, Moon, Crazy Moon
moon, moon, crazy moon
natural moon
torn apart and snoozing moon;
lovely moon, romantic moon
poor poor moon
the romance
plucked out of its drab surface;
moon moon going wild
moon moon running away
from the earth -
O moon, why do you run away from the earth?
does earth touch you in the wrong places
and you've got no Body
to which one could lodge
a complaint about sexual harassment? ?
ah, moon moon, temperamental moon
dark moon
glowing moon;
sexy moon
and old-woman hag of a moon;
moon moon with the best views of the earth
moon moon moon
puts me to sleep and wakes me up
in the middle of nights;
and one day we'll sleep in the moon
and produce babies there
and we'll have the first moon-ish boys and girls
and moon-ly families;
but meanwhile
moon moon driving fanatics
and inspiring love and romance and myths
moon moon eerie moon
moon moon that presides over love and horrors
and evil and good
and naked witches dancing in moonlit groves;
pooor moon moon the earth moon
not as interesting and dramatic as other moons;
don't get too friendly and dropp in -
oh, never dropp in, no one invited you
silly mooonn, no no, you're not invited home to earth
moon moon cheese moon eaten by mice;
but still our dear moon darling moon
moon mooon
our very own earth's moon
as we moo moo like cows
moo moo moo mooo
at our own moon moon moon
poem by Raj Arumugam
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