…
When I ask that pulled moon to stay,
in her indigo dress she sits
her impish spirit set to play.
I crinkle-gather all my wits
about my fractured self in fits,
a tumble-crumbled comedy.
And through the rumbled sky she flits,
spinning tales of blue tragedy.
She’s a wonder-wandering eye,
blinking brood and comet-whip smart.
She casts her spell; I dance and cry,
and press her presence to my heart.
And with a muggle-muddled moan
I present my own sky: a stone.
..
A ’bouts rime” written for Gayle’s prompt over at Meeting the Bar at dVerse. Come play!
Whimsygizmo's Blog 
Love those two last lines. Lovely.
I’m finding the beauty of an entire poem being outdone time and again but the end couplet, yours no exception, De! Nice!
The moon has it!
Anna :o]
This is a very pretty poem.
Much love (:
That last couplet is exquisite De ~ Love the crinkle-gather and tumble-crumbled comedy.
!!!
“And with a muggle-muddled moan
I present my own sky: a stone.” … Brilliant ending. “I present my own sky-ass tone” … thus the do re mi (or do Rumi / doe Remy). Hee hee. 🙂
In other words, you’re mooning the moon!
I’m completely smitten with this whole gorgeous poem.
So love this, De, and these lines were so cool: “I crinkle-gather all my wits/about my fractured self in fits,/a tumble-crumbled comedy.” And I love your last couplet with your “muggle-muddled moan.” I’m so glad you were able to make it in time. 🙂
A fun tirade, rife with clever word-smithing. For some reason (maybe the Muggles) I heard echoes of J.K. Rowling; what giggles & smiles.
She casts her spell; I dance and cry,
and press her presence to my heart
One can be taken by the soothing presence of a loved one obviously. Fun take De!
Hank
I really love how you did this, on the surface a nursery rhyme, bug just like the best it’s filled with layered depth, the moon an the stone are satellites or opposites..
Hey, remember Mark? awakenedwords.wordpress.com
He wants to do a word list again sometime. Just giving you a heads-up.
Fun! Mark’s awesome. 🙂
I just posted the list.
Need to be invited, this morning. Your blog went private.
Love:
” through the rumbled sky she flits,
spinning tales of blue tragedy.
She’s a wonder-wandering eye,”
and your closing!
You made these ending words rock for your poem, de!
sKeYeS oF
ImaGiNaTioN..
visibiLiTy
forEver
eternAlly
noW aS Free..
iN AnGeL WinGs..:)