The Moon In Her Eyes – Remix

Tonight I’m reworking a prose poem I wrote a while back. Originally, it was a single paragraph, but I’m wondering if this form might work better. Please – share your thoughts below!

The night was dark and the moon was high
As the brave young man strode calmly by
And promised to pluck the moon from the sky
For the girl he loved to wear in her eyes.

He aimed with his arrow,
And shot true and high,
Encircling the moon with a great length of twine,
But it wasn’t enough to capture the prize.

For the moon it continued
To climb through the sky,
And as it did it pulled on the twine,
And ever so slowly did the brave young man rise

Till he found himself alone in the sky

With the moon and his arrow and a great length of twine,
And no way to get back
To the girl that he loved
With the moon in her eyes.

For ever and always
He’ll continue to try
To capture the moon
To hang in the eyes

Of the girl that he loved
On that cold, dark night,
And he’ll never forget
The way that she cried

When he disappeared into
The great black sky
To fetch her the moon
To wear in her eyes.

He’ll never forget
The way that she died
With the moon shining brightly
In her dark brown eyes.

And now it’s your turn – which version do you like better, the prose version or this one? Tell me in the comments!

(c) 2017. All rights reserved.

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Innocence

In sweet green pastures
I think of you, and all the
Love that we once knew.

In sweet green pastures,
I see you fly, soaring high
So you touch the sky.

In sweet green pastures
I lie and dream of all that
Was, or at least seemed.

(c) 2017. All rights reserved.

Cicada Song

The cicadas sing
Out in the trees of love and
Home and family.

The cicadas sing
Out in the trees of peace and
Joy and all good things.

The cicadas sing
Out in the trees of hope and
Faith and harmony.

The cicadas sing
Out in the trees of the brand
New world of my dreams.

(c) 2017. All rights reserved.

The Bell

A bell once rang as
The day began, delighting
All who heard its song.

But then the sun set
And night descended, and the
Bell ceased its ringing.

No more shines the sun,
And no more rings the bell, but
Those who miss it mourn.

(c) 2017. All rights reserved.

Tired

I’m tired. I’m not, really, but it’s much more acceptable to say you’re tired than to say that you’re angry and upset and you don’t know why.

I’m tired. I’m not, not really, but it’s so much easier to say you’re tired than to say that you’re feeling prickly and sharp and you don’t know why.

I’m tired. I’m not supposed to be, because I got almost seven hours of sleep last night. But my goal is eight or nine, and the seven hours I got weren’t good. I can’t remember the last time I woke up feeling refreshed.

I’m tired. I’m not, really, but it’s much safer to say you’re tired than to say that you’re feeling jagged and raw and you don’t want to talk about it because you can’t handle hearing, “Suck it up, buttercup,” or, “Figure it out and get over it,” one more time.

I am running on empty, and I’m tired of it.

(c) 2017. All rights reserved.