echo75
04-20-2011, 09:56 PM
Moon Faced Baby
In a moment of great crisis,
Nature presents her greatest
drama. To the wonder of men;
to remind his feeble mind of the
power of love.
And on this night,
a young family beheld a sight
to never be seen;
a glimpse of hope
and a thought of a temptation.
The night sky aglow with the smiling light
of a clear crisp sphere
rising low on the horizon
above the sea.
Rhythmic pounding;
air funneled through the conch,
a prayer mutter over a rosary.
The surf’s fanning waves
celebrate a jubilee.
The moon, a maiden’s full breast,
creamy milk, organismically sweet.
This narcissistic being basking in the
glow of its own light.
Casts such a glamorous path;
If only to transform into a mermaid
to swim the silver shimmer. To the shores
of Europe to a Roman musing under the stars.
To imagine, a love of she
the tempest tosses, mindlessly hauling the cargo
and driven by the heart’s of men.
Majesty of her white billowing sails.
Loved as Verlaine loved his France,
Or the Lady Liberty loved her refugees.
Her greatest love are the serenading cries
of her pitiful children- seagulls.
Awakened from the trance
of Earth’s myth.
She turns to her angel
held, a moon faced baby,
who points into the wind
and utters, “Dad-dad.”
In a moment of great crisis,
Nature presents her greatest
drama. To the wonder of men;
to remind his feeble mind of the
power of love.
And on this night,
a young family beheld a sight
to never be seen;
a glimpse of hope
and a thought of a temptation.
The night sky aglow with the smiling light
of a clear crisp sphere
rising low on the horizon
above the sea.
Rhythmic pounding;
air funneled through the conch,
a prayer mutter over a rosary.
The surf’s fanning waves
celebrate a jubilee.
The moon, a maiden’s full breast,
creamy milk, organismically sweet.
This narcissistic being basking in the
glow of its own light.
Casts such a glamorous path;
If only to transform into a mermaid
to swim the silver shimmer. To the shores
of Europe to a Roman musing under the stars.
To imagine, a love of she
the tempest tosses, mindlessly hauling the cargo
and driven by the heart’s of men.
Majesty of her white billowing sails.
Loved as Verlaine loved his France,
Or the Lady Liberty loved her refugees.
Her greatest love are the serenading cries
of her pitiful children- seagulls.
Awakened from the trance
of Earth’s myth.
She turns to her angel
held, a moon faced baby,
who points into the wind
and utters, “Dad-dad.”