feasting on the moon, and poems

{a ramble in sestina form}

..

 

the moon’s a golden pest,
a horizon harlot crack
-ing open the sky in a ramble
of tide, a hiccup
of light. watch her wince
-squint her way to dawn’s festoon

of crimson ribbons, or festoon
herself in cheese, or perhaps pest
-oh if you please {we wince
at the thought}, or does it crack
us up, give us the hiccups
and that morning hum-ramble

that helps us (sc)ramble
our way to all the new day’s festoon
-ings? fill your cup, hiccup
a poem or two; your pen’s a pest
when the page won’t crack
open just right, wince

with light or twice-wince
since you’ve ramble
(d) on so long. and then crack!
screams the sky, a festoon
of ebony silk, a pest
-(s)ilence of stars that crack

-le and pop, hiccup
their way twi(n)ce
into your heart, pest
-er you until you ramble
on again, festoon
the night in inky maps and the crack

-ling of keys, the crack
of phrase that pleases us, hiccups
forth a giggle fest(oon).
oh, that wily moon. she winks, we wince
and know this knowing sky’s a (b)ramble
bush of pinpricked promise. a test. a pest.

pester me up a poem, i’ll crack
open the wine, and we’ll ramble-hiccup
our winced-way til dawn’s ink-drunk last fe(a)st(m)oons.

..
PAD, day 27. Anytime someone throws exactly 6 words on the floor, the sestina form comes to mind. Usually, I hates it. This one was fun. Which perhaps simply means it isn’t any good. 😉 You can read more about the sestina form here

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This entry was posted in moon poems, poetic asides poems and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to feasting on the moon, and poems

  1. Edward Rinaldi says:

    Damn, you’d make a good fly fisher … The sense of play in this, is joyous …

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