Array ( [sid] => 141291 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => in love with the moon. . . [time] => 2008-04-01 02:47:06 [hometext] => [bodytext] => in love with the moon. . .
I dare escape
& tumble to your arms.
thus does the glow
of each fine ray
evolve to untold charms.
the gala tides
abound for us.
manifesto
of my bliss. . .
diversion of
a spendid kind.
a diversion
for my lips. . .
the faintest murmur
of your name
begins
our own eclispe. . .
of subtle knowing,
of shadows longing
only for relief.
the ins & outs
of love, my love.
the turbulence
of grief.
the mystics toss
the ancient runes
to enlist
the stars above.
as mist upon
the endless sky. . .
the constant
lure of love. . .
a truth revealed.
a mild contort
restrains
abandoning. . .
& saves us
from the everything,
with nothing
left to need.
I found a taste,
a shred
of tear
upon the tongue
of everlast.
a springtime musing,
derelict,
omega
left it there. . .
as season's go,
our season, only
has no name.
no calling of it's own.
I wait awash
in moonlit night.
my prince. . .
folly, outgrown. [comments] => 1 [counter] => 207 [topic] => 73 [informant] => elle [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => abstract ) Your Poetry Dot Com - in love with the moon. . .


in love with the moon. . .
Date: Tuesday, 1st April 2008 @ 02:47:06 AM AEST
Topic: Sad Poetry

Contributed By: elle
in love with the moon. . .
I dare escape
& tumble to your arms.
thus does the glow
of each fine ray
evolve to untold charms.
the gala tides
abound for us.
manifesto
of my bliss. . .
diversion of
a spendid kind.
a diversion
for my lips. . .
the faintest murmur
of your name
begins
our own eclispe. . .
of subtle knowing,
of shadows longing
only for relief.
the ins & outs
of love, my love.
the turbulence
of grief.
the mystics toss
the ancient runes
to enlist
the stars above.
as mist upon
the endless sky. . .
the constant
lure of love. . .
a truth revealed.
a mild contort
restrains
abandoning. . .
& saves us
from the everything,
with nothing
left to need.
I found a taste,
a shred
of tear
upon the tongue
of everlast.
a springtime musing,
derelict,
omega
left it there. . .
as season's go,
our season, only
has no name.
no calling of it's own.
I wait awash
in moonlit night.
my prince. . .
folly, outgrown.

This poem is Copyright © elle


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