Night time: gogyohka sequence

 

moon picks up

the stray threads

of sunlight

weaves a new

cloth

 

moonlight

a haze of motes

soft as feathers

kinder than sunlight’s glare

I wear it gladly

 

wandering strands of silver

strands of gold

among the green and the grey

skylights finding their way

to earth

 

in the parched grass of the night

pools of silver light

sooth

almost like rainwater

falling

 

we see only beauty

in the fields of the night

hear only music

in the cry of the hunting owl

beneath the silver a sprinkling of red blood

Winter moonlight

Marianne von Werefkin’s work is a joy.  This painting is entitled Moonlit.

An ekphrastic poem in the spirit of the dverse prompt, if not following it to the letter.

800px-Marianne_von_Werefkin_-_Moonlit.jpg

In the winter there is nowhere to hide,

the cold strips and splits, and ice cracks on the river.

In the moonlight the shadows are black,

and even old monks with backs bent

by the weight of other people’s sins

have spindly alter egos that trot lightly across the snow.

In the dark by the light of a cold moon,

there is a stillness

that not even the promise of a blazing hearth can stir.

In the moonlit winter cold the world is starved thin

and black as sin.

Frost-coloured roses

As today is Saturday, (not yesterday ahem) I decided to pay a return visit to the oracle. I like what she had to say.

 

The cool-fingered moonScreen Shot 2017-06-17 at 15.15.55

has no time

for those who sleep

in the shadow of death.

Storm sings mad music

that soars, screaming

into the black sky,

like love lost at sea.

 

Stars sail home,Screen Shot 2017-06-17 at 15.42.06

night sky flying,

their sad, secret poetry

perfumes the dark

with clouds,

the colour of oceans—

blue breath lingering

like ice in the grass.

 

One moment,Screen Shot 2017-06-17 at 16.16.10

a regard,

a voice in the night—

language of the heart.

Dream a river of music,

sing songs of the sun,

fly me to you

on wings bright

as the evening star.

 

Dusk fallsScreen Shot 2017-06-17 at 16.51.07

like the roses,

sweet and dark.

I long to see

the moonlight bloom,

frost colour

in this summer grass—

last tendrils of winter.

 

 

 

Microfiction challenge Moonlit night: the entries

Bit slow off the mark today with the round up, but it let one last entry slip in under the wire. I really enjoyed the stories this week. They explored the subjects of friendship and loyalty with great thoughtfulness, and I think it says something about your sensitivity that the dog was an important character in your stories.

Ken

https://rivrvlogr.wordpress.com/2016/11/25/true-friend/

Pensitivity

https://pensitivity101.wordpress.com/2016/11/25/microfiction-challenge-24-moonlit-night/

Lorraine

JD’s Microfiction Challenge #24: Anya – Lorraine’s frilly freudian slip

Michael

Microfiction challenge #24: Moonlit night | Morpethroad

Neel

neelwrites/fiction/200wordstory/27/11/2016 | neelwritesblog

Lady Lee

Microfiction challenge #24: Moonlit night – Ladyleemanila

Ellen

 Waiting For Iliya. | Ellenbest24

Lynn

Jane Dougherty’s Microfiction Challenge : The slap and hush of the water – Word Shamble

Reena

On the backside of Time – REINVENTIONS BY REENA

Geoff

The Memory River #microfiction | TanGental

Merril

Thoughts in the Moonlight: Microfiction | Yesterday and today: Merril’s historical musings

Kerfe

Postcard Fiction: What She Saw, Part 3 | method two madness

Mine

https://janedougherty.wordpress.com/2016/11/30/microfiction-the-last-of-the-moonlight/

Bill

Moon Spill

 

Microfiction challenge #24: Moonlit night

Time to get back to serious subjects after last week’s comedy interlude.

I found this painting, another one by Iliya Repin while I was looking for something else and found it captivating. We can’t see the woman’s face but she appears deep in thought, facing the river but possibly not seeing it. Her dog is watching something, someone arriving the dog doesn’t particularly like? The sparkle of the moonlight on the water, the muted night time colours, the dog lying at the woman’s feet create a beautiful peaceful image, but there’s something waiting just out of sight that is slightly disturbing.

What do you think? Put the answer in a short story and post the link in the comments box before next Thursday. Have fun 🙂

611px-repin_iliya_moon_night

Moonlit stones

Another twitter flow poem

1024px-rock_stone_monument_at_night

Lay it to rest, the love that died,

plant a yew tree at its heart,

let it be and let it grow,

no regrets, no pleas to start anew,

let tomorrow blossom free.

 

Moonlight wanders on the lake,

silver water laps the shore.

Where did it go the moonlit love,

gone with the dreams I dream no more?

 

In the old stone, voices whisper,

memories of warmth and fire.

Should I kindle the cold hearth’s flame

I will add my words one day to theirs,

for stone lives longer than our puny bones,

its ageless silence softer than our raucous songs.

 

 I will never be the cold stone in the path,

the branch that snags,

the stinging wasp.

For you, I will always be

the sun on the grass,

the morning dew,

and the lark singing

where the river meets the sea.

 

When all the world is sleeping

913px-munch_moonlight

When all the world is sleeping sound,

I walk the house, where scattered round

Lie pools of moonlight on the ground.

 

When all the stars are shining bright,

In my white shift I walk the night,

I have no need for candlelight.

 

I pace the empty rooms so slow,

Hear echoes fall in midnight’s glow,

But where you went, I’ll never know.

Poetry challenge: Dreaming trees

It’s poetry round up day and another crop of lovely poems. First though, I’m posting the link to a late arrival for the previous challenge, the message in a bottle. Thanks Pat—better late than never 🙂

https://thoughtsandentanglements.wordpress.com/2016/05/25/perspective/

And another late arrival from Helen Jones for the Dreaming Trees challenge that I’m adding up front. Thanks for the addition, Helen 🙂

The road runs soft into the night
Bathed bright in silver-gold moonlight
But hold! Be wary where you tread
We know not what might lie ahead

The way is clear, the path is true
A journey set for me and you
To take us far from home and bed
We know not what might lie ahead

Swaying branches, a voice unseen,
Are we awake? Or do we dream?
The stars are bright, the darkness dread
We know not what might lie ahead

A secret lies where daylight meets
The dark of night in sunrise sweet
A shout of light to raise the dead
We know not what might lie ahead

We know not what might lie ahead.

 

Here the entries for this week’s kyrielle challenge in order of arrival.

Sarah from the south west with a lovely, uplifting poem about the untold possibilities of a shared future.

Moonlight Kyrielle | fmme writes poems

 

Sri with an intriguing refrain line that makes me think the trees and the moonlight might not be in agreement with the poet’s hopes and wishes.

https://srisudhak.wordpress.com/2016/05/26/decission-right/

 

Kat Myrman reflecting on life’s journey and the importance of living it well, and not accumulating regrets.

Lone Journey | like mercury colliding…

 

An new contributor, Fantasy Raconteur, whose name I’m afraid I don’t know 😦 with a poem that captures the unsettling and rather hostile atmosphere of those moonlit trees.

Dark Skies – Fantasy Raconteur

 

Ken’s poem also picks up on the enigmatic nature of the moonlight and the path through the trees. Is it a dream? And if so, who is dreaming?

Dreaming Trees | rivrvlogr

then a revised version of the same poem to make a kyrielle sonnet

Dreaming Trees – Kyrielle Sonnet | rivrvlogr

 

The crow with a typically double-edged poem—a classic study of how to take a rhythmic, song-like form and fill it full of sharp jagged bits and a nervous staccato. I love the effect though.

shard (20160526) – Caw!

 

Sue Vincent’s poem takes the reader into the dream world where things are not what they seem and even the innocence of trees can be misleading. The twist in the tail here is hopeful though and leaves a sense of fulfillment rather than impending disaster.

Dreaming trees | Sue Vincent – Daily Echo

 

Harula’s poem also catches the enigmatic role of moonlit trees. Are they simply bending gracefully in the wind, or listening with evil intent? Thanks for joining in!

The trees can hear | wordsthatserve

 

Merril’s poem is full of nostalgia and melancholy for a lost time represented by the trees, moonlit trysts and lovers’ secret meetings. Delicate and beautiful.

Moonlight: Kyrielle | Yesterday and today: Merril’s historical musings

 

Janice’s poem focuses on the path that leads through time, maybe into the past, maybe into the future, filled with longing for peace.

Take me home–Let me stay – Ontheland

 

Peter Bouchier’s poem has that nightmare quality of walking and walking and never reaching the goal. Trees, all the same, a never-ending line of them. Not necessarily menacing, but oppressive nonetheless. Nice one 🙂

https://peterbouchier.wordpress.com/english-essays-and-poems-2/road-to-eternity/

 

Tricia Drammeh’s poem seemed so full of desperate yearning…until I read the twist in the tail. Great stuff!

Poetry Challenge: Dreaming Trees – A Creative State of Mind

 

Another new participant, Claire Fullerton with a beautiful poem on the fragility and the unknowns of existence, and the tenuous comfort of another.

Poetry Challenge: Dreaming Trees – Writing Notes

 

Carole is back! with a poem full of the mysticism of moonlight and quiet death.

https://writersdream9.wordpress.com/2016/05/28/moonlitkyrielle/

 

Kerfe reminding me (I didn’t know actually) that we should be thinking of the war dead at this time. For all the ‘Johnnies’.

Elegy (Memorial Day 2016) | method two madness

 

The ‘bashful’ Mr (I think H is a mister!)  Bhatnagar sent these lovely words:

“The moonlight treads a wary way
To where the secret lovers lay
With entwined limbs they hold parley
Swaying passions with every play.”

I was right. Here’s a trickle-in from Geoff Le Pard who likes grand gestures. It’s a great poem too 🙂

Becoming a man

 

Nowhere to hide in soft moonlight

If there’s someone left still to fight

Your mates are there, and me and you

The day we walked that Avenue

Should men, good and true, softly tread

If there’s no one left and all are dead

And our fists are clenched, a wary crew

The day we walked that Avenue

 

There’s a secret to becoming a man

Know when to run, when make a stand

Ignore your mind, if heart be true

The day we walked that Avenue.

 

I have a feeling that more poems may trickle in over the next couple of days, but for now, this is the collection, and a pretty impressive one it is! Thank you all for participating, overcoming your hesitations and aversions, and buckling down to new formal poetry styles. I salute you!

Don’t forget to look in tomorrow for the next challenge.

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