A very special thank you to Mo and Tracie for hosting our July Open Write for educators. Join us in August! August 21-25 with Jennifer, Tammi, and Judi who will be hosting.
Our Host
Mo Daley is a middle school reading specialist in Homewood, IL. After work, she enjoys spending time with her family, bike riding, traveling, and fixing up her home. You can occasionally find her at pub trivias in the Chicago suburbs. Ethical ELA has been an amazing boon to her writing the last few years. You can find Mo on Twitter and Instagram @ofdaleys.
Tracie McCormick holds master’s degrees in English and school leadership and teaches ELA and social studies in Oak Forest, IL. Her one word this year is ATTEMPT, so she is enjoying new methods of personal and professional growth, which is what led her to ethicalela.com. Follow her on Twitter at @TracieMcTeacher.
The Inspiration
For today’s prompt, we wanted to give you the opportunity to flex your poetic writing muscle by just giving you the topic “A Moonlight Experience.”
Mo says, “When I think of moonlight I think of mystery and calmness. I’m intrigued by what many of us never see happening under the moonlight.”
Tracie says, “So what comes to mind when I hear the phrase, “Under the moonlight”? Immediately, David Bowie’s song “Let’s Dance”. The not La-La Land, Oscar-Winning movie Moonlight. And finally, shedding the protective layer to discover, explore, and reveal one’s true self.
Process
Take a few minutes and brainstorm about moonlit experiences. When you are done, review your notes and consider how you might turn them into a poem. Perhaps you want to use a form you frequently use, or maybe practice a form that has been recently introduced to you. Anything goes!
Mo’s Poem
tonight the koi swim
happily under moonlight
the heron rests now
Your Turn
Now, scroll to the comment section below to write your own poem. (This is a public space, so you may use only your first name or initials depending on your privacy preferences.) Not ready? That’s okay. Read the poems already posted for more inspiration. Ponder your own throughout the day. Return later. And, if the prompt does not work for you, that is fine. All writing is welcome. Just write something. Also, please be sure to respond to at least three writers. Oh, and a note about drafting: Since we are writing in short bursts, we all understand (and even welcome) the typos and partial poems that remind us we are human and that writing is always becoming. If you’d like to invite other teachers to write with us, tell them to subscribe.
Luna
phase 1
phosphorous beacon
patently poised
in the heavens
crisp,
blazon,
bold
inducer of revelry
creator of chaos
serenity’s bane
portent
of mischief
in the night
phase II
waning appetite from
devoured feast
with crescent of darkness
disgorged from the east
phase III
middle terminator
equal divide
at midnight awakens
and beckons the tide
phase 4
lustrous cradle
obliquely hung in
the heavens
blurred,
soft,
serene
inducer of reverie
composer of shadow
mystery’s muse
whisper
of clarity
in the night
Steve, what rally jumped out at me was your wonderful use of sound in this poem. Couple that with your terrific use of white space, and I think you have a winner here.
Brightest full moon now
Dispeller of our darkness
Surrender to you.
Wow, Tara. You’ve packed a punch in this one. I love the line, “Dispeller of darkness.” The thought of surrender is so appealing, too.
I was challenged this week with a variety of forms and topics. Thank you! I was inspired by the poems shared. Priceless.
I played with some found poetry today during a poetry workshop. I used a page from Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire.
The owl swoop
night’s hunting
a mouse in its beak
is found
because of you
So funny, Heather. My son and I were just talking about Harry Potter. I love found poetry. Yours is terrific.
Love found poetry! And the owl is everyone’s favorite character, right? A nice close to this month’s session.
This is not a comparison, but your poem reminds me of Robinson Jeffers in that you convey the indifference of death in nature. The owl kills for food without emotion and the moon enables the owl without intent; it is merely being the moon. Very cool.
Mo, Tracie, and of course, Sarah, thank you. Mo, I’ll circle back around to the day 2 poem. I tried, but that form kicked my tush.
I’ll be more present next month, friends. ‘Preciate you all.
-Glenda
While one son is off fighting wildfires, the other is off on a cross-country road trip with his father. My heart is traveling the country with out me.
When I look up at
the night sky, I look at a
moon that is over
all of our heads, glowing back
the light that you are to me.
Whether you are here
with me, or off on your next
adventure, look up
and know that I am looking
up thinking of you.
Oh, Cara, I feel your traveling heart. Your poem is making me tear up. I think it is a keeper for me. I can see myself finding peace in your words. Thank you.
Such a lovely sentiment, Cara. Honestly, I think you should this line in your next poem, My heart is traveling the country with out me.
What a lovely poem, Cara ? ❤️ It is sweet and thoughtful. You are such a good mom!
Ah Cara, this tugs at the heart strings! Thank you.
OH, so beautiful…
This has been a wonderful five days! Thank you Mo, Tracie, and Sarah for this magic!
I tried to think of my first experience of the moon, and I remembered this adventure when I was ten years old…
The Family Trip
It seemed we drove
all day long
seven of us
squeezed in
tight together
yes, all day long
mile after mile after mile
while sun beckoned
while sun blasted
while sun ebbed
and the sparkle and luster of
all this family togetherness
melted away
the brothers
fractious squirming pesty
late in the evening
when suddenly
the car stopped
seats shifted
new order imposed
I got a window seat!
I got a window seat,
truly, the rarest of treats!
I got a window seat
with many miles more to go!
With my jacket bunched up
beneath my head
the door handle digging my side
I created a magical nook
only to find
the moon
full, bright, mesmerizing
cheering me on
mile after mile after mile
Maureen,
Your lovely moonlight memory reminds me of nighttime road trips as a child. We drove at night to avoid the hot sun in a car w/ no AC. I love the idea of the moon as cheerleader.
I just finished a road trip. I can picture your experience “mile after mile after mile.”
What fabulous memories you’ve written about, Maureen! This stanza was easiest to relate to,
and the sparkle and luster of
all this family togetherness
melted away
I love the joy over getting the window seat.
Felt your poem in many places Maureen. With nostalgia of sibling rivalry, excitement for window seats on trips, and the memorable jubilee I’d have over good unexpected moments.
@MoX, that’s funny. I can relate most to “With my jacket bunched up
beneath my head
the door handle digging my side
I created a magical nook,”
only because to this day do I find myself in sticky situations just for some comfort.
Thank you Tracie, Mo, and Sara for the prompts this week. I am learning a little each day. Some days the writing is easy and other days, I would rather be at my easel. Hee Hee! It’s all good and I appreciate your help and support.
Thanks Mo and Tracie for all the wonderful prompts and poetry. I missed the Golden Shovel Poem this week due to being on the road, so I decided to use that form for today’s poem.
“I’m Being Followed by a Moon Shadow”
Drifting into ebony night, I’m
serenaded by the croak of crickets, being
led off the beaten path, seduced by whispering wind, I followed
fleeting day into silent night, now by and by
gazing into celestial bodies, a
sweet night playing hide-and-seek in moon shadow.
Tammi, you sound like my husband. He always hears the crickets and the frogs as he smiles and settles in for the night. Thanks for sharing and making me smile!
This is one of my favorite songs, Tammi! I love your golden shovel poem, especially
Your poem is music to my ears. The crickets, the whispering wind, and the song. This was a perfect poem to read before going to bed.
Tammi, excellent striking line fir your poem. I was really struck by the verbs you chose. I don’t think I can choose a favorite- they are all so wonderful.
Moonlight is a perfect summer time prompt! Thank you.
Moon Garden
Moonlight filters through the lilac
Laces fingers into corners
The variegated leaves of lungwort
Are silver gilt, while the lady’s mantle
By it’s side is dusky-faint.
The white climbing roses:
Floating orbs luminesce,
But the lupine at it’s feet
Sit in darkly huddled masses.
Emily, your poem reminds me of the “gardens of flowers” we educators attempt to nurture each time we interact with our students. Your poem of the different ways flowers respond, look, react reminds me of the different ways that students respond, look and react to our teaching. “variegated leaves” is my favorite image here today.
Thanks for sharing.
Emily, I do love to see gardens in the night light – love the images you shared, such a beautiful variety of flowers. Fascinating concluding lines:
It is as if they are at a performance, taking in the garden show! Just a lovely image.
Emily,
What a beautiful interlude in the garden you’ve written! I can just imagine the moon shadows and changes in colors from daytime. I especially love your personification of the moon’s fingers lacing into the corners. Wonderful. 🙂
Thanks for reminding me of the beauty of a moonlit garden.
Your garden has come alive in the moon light and in this poem. I love flowers and gardening (although, I’m not any expert), so this poem was especially visual for me. Thanks for writing this ❤️
I’ve been thinking, lately,
of change, of the myth
that every seven years
every cell in your body
is replaced
that every seven years
you are a new person.
A myth
because it’s not quite true:
some of your cells
are with you your entire life
but others — many others
we can say — do die
and are, indeed, replaced,
a Ship of Theseus,
if you will, made flesh.
And although we change
and are constantly in flux,
the moon remains
the same.
Take a moment
to ponder that —
the moon
remains the same.
“Hundred years,
all new people,”
they say,
but the moon
remains
the
same.
The moon has been
the center of myths,
of religions,
of countless songs
and works of art,
and you can go
“leaping and hopping
on a moonshadow”
or you can reflect
how it has grown
“Pale for weariness,”
but you are still
talking about
the same moon.
And, please, let us
put to rest the grotesque
notion of ownership
of claim
of planting flags
and putting golf balls
and accept that the moon
is everyone’s.
So, tonight,
through
these blinds,
that sliver
of a Moon
is for us,
for you
and me,
and at this
specific time
and place
when we
are no one else
but ourselves,
it shines
for us.
Thank you, Scott, for this excellent reminder of who we are in this beautiful universe.
Love this, Scott. It is truly powerful to think –
I love to look at the moon, I find it very ‘centering.’ I suppose this is why!
Scott, your first few stanzas made me feel so humble when I think about my place in the universe. But then in the last stanza I felt like you were telling me it’s ok, as long as I share the moon and remember its (my?) place in the universe. Lovely thoughts.
Thank you, Mo and Tracie. My response is purely accidental.
By the moon of the light,
I dropped my bed under the phone.
It fell through the headboard and mattress between the crevice.
It was me I heard that told the thud where it was.
I moved it to retrieve Heaven and Earth.
I read this three times before I caught the second line! I love the reversals throughout, and how they make ‘sort of” sense until you really think about them…
Oh my, love this! Yes, we will move heaven and earth for the phone! Fun!
You clever girl! I love your playfulness in this poem. It really worked for me!
Love this! I can envision a prompt where you take a saying like “I moved heaven and earth to retrieve it” or “Too many cooks spoil the stew” and reversing it like you have here: I moved it to retrieve heaven and earth / too many stews spoil the cook. Ha! What fun it would be to use that as the end line to some expression of the newly formed saying. So much fun in such a simple incident! Thank you!
see the moon today
pale disk in the daytime sky
both of us smiling
Sue,
This is just perfect. Love the economy of words and the precision — “pale disk” — that ends with “us smiling.” The us is, who, it can be any of us. It is me right now — smiling.
Sarah
Thanks for your kind words, Sarah. I have probably never written a poem in my whole life but this prompt inspired me. (PS I chose “us” smiling so it might be taken in more than one way. Initially, I was picturing myself smiling up and the “man in the moon” smiling back.)
Beautiful haiku. I think my pulse slowed as I read it…
Your last line, “both of us smiling,” makes me smile! This is a pleasure to read and then re-read slowly. Thanks!
Precious and perfect. I love to see the moon in the daytime!!
Sue,
This is lovely. The moon does smile, and your poem puts a smile on my face, too.
Sue! I’m so happy you wrote today! That last line nails it. That, my friend, is a moonlight experience.
Thanks for the inspiration, Mo (and Tracie too)… it surprised me how much I enjoyed the experience of writing it!
Mo and Tracie, thanks so much for hosting. I love the moonlight:)
Moonlight’s Delight
benevolent bride
lifts her gauzy veil—smiling
diamonds beneath wink
dawn shyly rises
her fresh pink blush caresses
golden shores dreaming
day’s jealous rage burns—
scorched, we swelter, longing for
moonlight’s soft return
Barb Edler
21 July 2021
Barb,
This is lovely—filled with unique and beautiful images.
Love this:
Barb, these are beautiful images. Yes, moonlight is so reassuring and steady – a “soft return,” no matter the day we have had!
Barb,
Like Susan, I am reveling in the splendid imagery in your poem. Each stanza hints at rich visuals. It is a feast of beauty. Thank you for sharing.
Lovely images. I especially like the first stanza.
Barb,
This poem is so sensual. I love the “gauzy veil” image. The personification is superb.
Thank you, Mo and Tracie, for this week’s prompts. I have been thinking about a full moon I saw in the high desert that woke me up one night. I went outside and walked around thinking it was a cross between daytime and nighttime. I wanted to write about it, but I can’t think of how to write what I saw! Anyway, here are three lines–an out-of-order haiku. 🙂
ripe as a pumpkin
full moon beams and shines
as bright as serene sunshine
Denise, I love how you share the magic of the moon. This poem flows so well. I especially like the closing line “bright as serene sunshine”. 🙂
Truly radiant moon when it shines as bright as the sun – I can see why the image stayed with you!
I like the repetition of the B and S sounds to help create the mood. It sounds like a glorious moon!
Demise,
Gorgeous poem. You have me longing for fall’s moonlit nights in the pumpkin patch.
July 20, 1969
Nine years old
long past bedtime,
we cartwheeled in the dewy grass
whooped with glee
and shared binoculars
to get a better view.
We ate cherry turnovers,
Pilsbury, a special treat,
while gathered round
the RCA to watch the
grainy footage and hear
the static words:
“One small step”
My young heart swelled with celebration
as we burst out onto the lawn again
to dance under our glorious
moon.
Ohhhh, Allison, I love the joy in this poem. “hear swelled with celebration”, “burst” “dance under our glorious/moon” such perfect words to share this experience. The details throughout paint a clear picture of the event, the time, and the emotions! Gorgeous poem!
Oh, Allison, I was thinking a lot about space travel this week for the wrong reasons — the economy, the marketplace of it all. And now, you have brought me to 1969 and the marvel of this moment with the exquisite Pilsbury cherry turnover and, gosh, that RCA. I remember it well. Thank you for the “grainy footage” of memory here that is a stark contrast to today’s hoopla. I prefer nostalgia.
Sarah
Your zooming in on the smallest sensory details of this event is what makes this so precious.
Your dizzying cartwheels in the dewy grass put us right there with you, as you took us in a direction I had not expected to look up at “our moon,” especially meaningful on that night.
Allison, I think three of us thought of this moment when writing our moon poems today! Must have made quite an impact on us. I was 11, I think.
I love how your poem really captures the joy and celebration of the moment! Both of us had young girl hearts that swelled! Lol
Love your clear-eyed sweet memories of this extraordinary day! I love that you remember eating cherry turnovers – what a treat! I remember all of us fixated on the television, watching the ‘grainy footage’ – and how unimaginable it seemed. (I am your peer!)
What a sweet poem filled with beautiful memories, Allison. It’s so joyful!
Allison,
Oh my, you have me remembering where I stood when I heard those words that evoked so many dreams, so much possibility in my young heart.
Thank you Mo and Tracie for this opportunity to reflect! My most intimate time spent with the moon was when I would run at night around my tiny hometown in Iowa.
Moonlight Exercise
Iowa summers are hot and humid, so
I wait until the sun tucks herself in
under a thick blanket of fertile planes,
unveiling the moon and her stars
this exchange is my invitation to lace
up my shoes and run.
cool winds break through the crops
(a sweet treat after the heat)
Do I hear coyotes howl?
Cassiopeia, Andromeda’s mother,
guides me, reluctantly —
being a constellation is her punishment
from Poseidon — yet I admire
her direction and passion.
The moon lights the path
back to where I began
and offers simple delicacy
to my Iowa nighttime run.
I can relate to the part “my Iowa nighttime run” because it took me back to the days I would go on night runs after a long day at college.
As soon as you mentioned the cool wind breaking through the crops, I though of Iowa. I love the idea of getting out to run in the evening when the moon is out and the hot sun is done. I wish I felt safe enough to do that in San Diego.
Oh, Rachelle, this is lovely! I loved this line:
“the sun tucks herself in
under a thick blanket of fertile planes”
and the delicious Iowa scene you paint.
It’s so interesting to see how you’ve “peopled” your poem with personification of the sun, Cassiopeia, and the moon. You are kept company by the coyotes! Your solo mid-night run is not lonely at all!
Rachelle, I can feel that cooling breeze through the crops. I so enjoyed the personification throughout and connections to mythology. My favorite part was the last stanza.
“and offers simple delicacy
to my Iowa nighttime run”
Delightful and beautiful poem!
The speaker seems to find a connection with the feminine nature of Cassiopeia and her plight. As stars draw the waters of the sea, that particular part of the poem drew me in.
So many delicious lines. I like “sun tucks herself in/under a thick blanket of fertile planes,” and “this exchange is my invitation..” and “cool winds break through the crops.” This is lovely!
Rachelle,
Oh, this is just lovely. I especially like “The moon lights the path / back to where I began.” It just has a wonderfully reminiscent tone that just pulled me through with your beautiful imagery and allusions. Love it!
Rachelle, I loved the mythological references. I just listened to Stephen Fry’s Mythos and Heroes and really enjoyed both of them. You might, too!
This is my first time writing on here. I haven’t written poetry in a while so I might be a little rusty. Thank you for this prompt, Mo and Tracie.
Moonlight Smile
by Christine
The lights have been switched off.
Total. Darkness.
I make my way to my room,
navigating my path
only through memory.
I lie in bed.
It’s still so dark,
I close my eyes.
I see tiny spots
floating around
behind my eye lids.
Darkness makes me nervous.
I think of the sun.
I think of sunlight.
If I think hard enough, it’ll be bright again.
Sunlight.
sunlight.
SUN LIGHT.
C’mon Sun, shine bright!
I open my eyes.
There is no sunlight.
But to my comfort,
The moon shines. She shines bright.
Her light smiles at my
nervous brows.
Comfort. Relief. Rest.
I am at peace.
Oh, Christine! Welcome, my friend. This is so beautiful. I’m sitting here closing my eyes and experiencing each line–the total darkness when the light is switched off, the spots in front of my eyelids, the sun missing, but the moon smiling brightly. There is a sweet story here, as well as the depth of a metaphor. So glad you have joined us in writing today.
Christine, welcome to this space! I’m so glad you found your way here and have shared a poem.
This line “Her light smiles at my
nervous brows” really grabbed me. Your poem centers your experience in the eyes, so “nervous brows” felt perfect to me.
I love how while not the sun, the moon brings peace. Bravo!
Christine, I so enjoy the way you completely pull the reader into your thoughts. The progress of your poem is clear, and I love the final line: “I am at peace” Wonderful!
Christine!
I am struck by your use of punctuation. I find myself seeing those periods as mini moons or starts sprinkled throughout your poem. I love the single words punctuated so clearly to create pause, make us slow before each poetic step. And those words are perfecT:
Thank you for being with us and for your poetry today.
Sarah
Christine, I envy the darkness you describe. Having once lived in the middle of nowhere, I learned to love it and how it makes the moon so much more relevant to us. I chuckled at how “her light smiles at my nervous brows.”
So glad you could write with us today, Christine. I love how comforting the moon is in your poem. Love the personification, too.
Christine, so glad you are here and writing! I’m captivated by your title as well as how comforting the moon is for you. I loved your play with capitalization in
mimics your wishing it into existence.
Hiking in Moonlight (inspired by Longfellow’s The Song of Hiawatha)
Under the mountains
of the grand Sierras
stood Deanna, the hiker,
pointing her finger upward
and saying we must go
to the purple clouds of sunset.
Fiercely the red sun descended
leaving a clear evening sky
with a bright halo rising
from the east
and the moon, the Night-sun, eastward
suddenly starting an ambush
of light among us.
It followed our footprints.
Followed in the dusty worn trail
as we climbed through the pines
using only that light from the heaven.
Deanna said to me,
“Watch out for the rocks since we have no light
other than the one from the moon,”
as we carefully ascended
toward a place to put our tent
on the shores of Convict Lake
where you can see black pitch-water
stretching far away under the grey clouds of moonlight.
Under the mountains
of the grand Sierras
stood Susan, the follower,
pointing her finger at a flat space
and saying here we should stop
under the grey clouds and halo of moonlight
to fumble with putting up our tent
while numerous eyes watch us from
under the pitch-black trees
where no moonlight reveals.
Straightway then my friend
picked up her camping gear and
popped up a shelter
with her palms at her side she chatted
with glee, “Susan, my friend, it’s all taken care of.
Here you are protected from
now-hiding savage beasts that come
prowling out at night under the moonlight.
Let’s get some rest.”
We rested in our weary night encampments.
All the air was white with moonlight.
All the lake black with shadow.
All around us the Sierra’s peaks,
The mosquitos singing a war song
and the bullfrogs peeking their heads in the moonlight
croaking their rhythmic songs
while off in the reedy marshes
a heron watched as the level moon stared back at him.
Watched until the sun was hot behind him
and the moon lowered its height and sank behind the trees.
Susan, the imagery throughout this is outstanding. I love the words you used to create this memory. So many lines stand out to me from the mosquitos to the bullfrogs to the heron staring, but my favorite was “to the purple clouds of sunset.” Exquisite poem!
Thank you, Barb, but you must know that so many of those words are from the Hiawatha poem.
This is so eerily beautiful. I love the sights and sounds that make me feel like I’m there. My favorites are the black lake and the heron staring at the setting moon. “Mosquitoes singing a war song” is great. That alone fills me with dread. You are very brave to venture out in the moonlight!
Susan, this could really be a painting. What a story you’ve told. I felt like I was right there with you!
I like the progression and repetition in this work. Definitely painting-esque. I can just envision each character standing and gesturing – such subtle details in that, but important and then repeated. A lot of strong imagery and fun metaphors. Loved these lines and the feelings the images they evoked in my imagination: “while numerous eyes watch us from / under the pitch-black trees / where no moonlight reveals.”
Today’s prompt is perfect for capturing a night walk we took in the Arenal volcano area of Costa Rica. I posted a photo of the frogs enjoying one another’s’ company on my FB and IG pages.
Night Walk Cinquain
atop
a tree branch lit
by moonlight shining bright
on red eyed tree frog sexy time
we watch
while…
patient
spider awaits
dinner’s arrival to
her silvery web lit by moon’s
shimmer
when…
blue jean
poison dart frog
lounges on a green leaf
moon spies this poser in forest
playground
where…
eyelash
viper coils its
slender body around
a tiny branch far from moonlight’s
night watch
still…
toucan
sleeps through
rainforest night
song as frog and cricket
choir sings moonlight serenade
for us
I love the short one-world lines in between each bit of nature! I can imagine using this as a mentor text in my class. How beautifully crafted!
Oh, Glenda, what fun to see the photos on Instagram and then read your sweet verses about these magical and colorful frogs. So glad you wrote today.
Glenda, what an amazing insight of a rain forest night. I shiver at the thought of the viper coils and imagining a poison dart frog, but your words create such a wonderful picture and gorgeous place. Love the soulful serenade! So much wonder here! Love it!
Glenda! Oh, how we loved our trip to Costa Rica! So glad you are exploring here. This poem – wow, I absolutely love the physical look of each stanza, how the lines build in length and then end with two syllables. And those last two: “for us.” The memories!
Glenda, I don’t need to look at your photos because you’re descriptions are so vivid. You make me want to be there!
In A Night
By: Emily Yamasaki
A petal falls
A leaf turns red
A tree limb stretches
A sprout leaves the dirt
A woman becomes a mother
Under the moonlight
I love how this list poem grows from a petal to a newborn child. Lovely.
Emily,
This is lovely. It evokes a sense of nature in control.
This poem made me think about seasons, and how important moonlight can be in the darkness of change.
Hi Emily,
First, the title is perfect and I didn’t know what to expect. You took me on a sweet journey causing me to appreciate cycles of life, change, and nature! This poem is a treasure, just like you!
?
Stacey
Emily, you have captured everything that is magic about the moonlight. Your structure is great. I love how everything grows right up to the end. Lovely.
Hello again, Mo and Tracie! Thank you for the 5 days of challenges, reflections, new forms, and time to write and be together. I always dread the 5th day because I usually don’t want it to end. I adore your haiku! A visual I would love to experience.
Today, I went with Blackout Poetry because it’s something I don’t do often yet I find so relaxing. The poem I used is “Golden Moonrise” by William Stanley Braithwaite (link attached). The picture is my final poem “Moonrise Calm” but I’ll include it typed in case my upload fails.
https://discoverpoetry.com/poems/william-stanley-braithwaite/golden-moonrise/
Moonrise Calm
eyes
descending
on the
deep
golden
Moon,
great
the wonder
of
moonrise
calm
©Stacey L. Joy, July 21, 2021
OOOOoooooh, Stacey! I love the blackout poem. It looks like the dark of the night with moonlight streaks in the sky, and the idea of “moonrise calm” twists our thinking on how we usually calm DOWN, but now the rising calm is considered with the visual image of moonrise. Lovely!
Wonderful! Love the words golden and wonder. I’ve been playing with zentangle poems. It’s a creatively inspiring exercise.
Stacey,
This blackout poem is perfect in form to capture the way moonlight disperses light among shadows, and it speaks much truth.
Blackout poetry! So fun. I love so many of the words you left on the page. Descending, moonrise, calm.
It’s always so lovely to read your poems.
Stacey, I love the skill you demonstrate in your poem with choosing the words that particularly move the reader to see the moonlight and experience the action. Loved the end “moonrise/calm” Gorgeous!
Fabulous, Stacey. I love blackout poetry and have hundreds of pages in a bin for when/if I ever get bored. I’ve been working on drawing pictures on mine, which I really like, but I’m no artist.
I love the idea of moonrise calm.
girlfriends’ summer 1985
midnight beach party with beer
and bottles of cheap wine we uncork
by slapping our sandals
against the bottom
so cliché, but tipsy
we shed our skimpy summer clothes
unabashedly wade our taut bare skin
into the lake warm as bathwater
crackling fire stands ashore
our lighthouse in the dark
we are silent as our churning limbs
slowly maneuver us deeper
we each dunk our heads under
our senses coddled in thick silence
I open my eyes in the moonlit murk
then rise breaking back into the night
we giggle softly whispering
how beautiful how warm how
we wish we could stay forever
dancing naked in the moonlight
Thank you, Denise! Moonlight begged of something sensual, sexy, and fun. Your poem is a sensual gift of what memories we should all be able to enjoy! I love it, especially the slapping of sandals on the bottom!
Beauty and innocence mixed with sweet freedom!
I love it! Thank you!
I love the young woman innocence of this memory – – the completely immersive dip into life and its calm waters. Gorgeous, and what a beautiful memory you have captured.
Denise,
The images of youth are both gorgeous and temporal. We’ve met groups of friends traveling, and I think about how lucky they are to have one another, and I wonder if they realize how time interferes w/ their lives. Maybe life itself is cliche that way.
Ooh, Denise! Your poem made me laugh and smile, but I can’t help but wonder what your kids might think if they knew this side of you. LOL
Thanks for a great Open Write! The prompts have been cathartic and have challenged me into Flow.
This poem is the moonlight,
watching and waiting
patiently for the dark
to shine.
This poem is a goddess
gathering wild flowers
to place in a vase
for herself.
This poem is a window
open to summer breeze,
buzz of cicadas,
and you, on the doorstep,
knocking.
Margaret,
I love this last line, the image of the moon or summer knocking and inviting us to join in on the fun. Thank you for sharing today.
Margaret, “This poem is” is a beginning repetitive metaphor line that helps create stunning images – the concreteness of the moon and the wildflowers and the window, the conceptual images of the breeze, the goddess, the dark. And it opens my mind to a possibility of a china tea set and and a friend welcoming me to a white-laced tablecloth and a vase of wildflowers in a room with an open window, just before sunset. I can’t wait!
Kim, you got a lot out of my little ditty. I appreciate you. I’d love to have you over for tea, but my house is a bit more casual.
I love the lines:
It made me wonder where I learned that I could only be gifted flowers?
For my birthday this week, I walked into a flower shop for the first time in 33 years and bought myself some beauties.
What lovely metaphors, Margaret! I especially like the last one. It’s so easy to picture and just made me feel so welcome and comfortable.
Tracie and Mo,
I am just joining in today but skimmed your prompts over the last few days and will explore them in my writing. Thank you for hosting and prompting us with the moonlight today.
“A Moon Tan?”
When I was little someone said
I get moon tans at night
It was confusing, intriguing
Like the unknown of never
Seeing the other side of the moon
Binary of seen and hidden
Dips and shadows in a perfect growth cycle
Like humans; not vulnerable
Where parts of us are shielded
By design or subconsciously
Like the moon from earth’s view
We will only witness half
Yet possibly receive moon tans
Guidance on romantic walks
A friend during the fright of night
Even without knowing the whole
We can learn from it
We can fall in love with it
Ha! I distinctly remember also being told when I was young about how the moon could tan skin! Nice exploration of duality – that is such a complex and beautiful concept. This line especially resonated with me: “Even without knowing the whole” – which challenges us – do we need to? Love that openness. And still – learning and falling in love. Big hearts.
This is great, Stefani, although I’ve never heard of a moon tan. I love your exploration of the seen and unseen. Your last three lines are my favorite. I’m so glad you wrote today!
Silly Moons
If moonlight makes you want to smooch,
makes your blood to rush,
and holding your love within your arms
will cause your face to blush.
If the purple shadows embolden a kiss
and impulses that fly askew,
the air so romantic you drink it in
before it slips from view.
How much more on Jupiter would be the pull
of feelings that are so fine,
if in its moonlight you got caught
with moons numbering sixty-nine!
Judi Opager
July 21, 2021
This feels like a song! The flow is so perfect, and love the theory of Jupiter’s moons!
Judi,
This is fun and sweet and romantic. Thank you for sharing this interpretation of moonlight with us today.
What a fun thought! I know I’ve looked at what I’d weigh on other planets, but smooching??? Never! How fun your poem is!
Ooooh…kinda naughty! Like Mo notes, I never would have considered ‘the weight of’ [fill in the blank] on another planet. That would be a cool concept in itself to explore in a poem! Creative. Fun!
Thank you, Mo and Tracie! What a fun and challenging week of prompts. Today I’m sharing a vivid childhood memory about the first moonwalk.
American Moon
By Nancy White
We sat there glued to the TV,
Mom, Dad, my sister and I
Watching Neil Armstrong descend from the lunar module,
Down, down the ladder
3,2,1…he planted his boot in the white moondust.
We let out our collectively held breath and listened to Neil Armstrong’s famous words:
“That’s one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind.”
A spine-tingling awe filled us. Wow. Just wow!
We ran out the front door, stood in the driveway
and tilted our necks back like baby birds
to take in the sight, the moon was bright—
Imagine one of our own is up there right now
leaving his footprints
and the American flag!
My young-girl heart swelled with pride
and I believed there was nothing we couldn’t do.
I believe yesterday was “Moonday” to celebrate this event. What a fantastic remembrance you have made with this poem! I can picture it so well…those tilted necks taking in the sight.
Nancy, you have shown us how awe inspiring and hopeful the moon landing was to an entire generation. Those are terrific memories you’ve shared. I’m contrasting it to the “space exploration” of the last week or so. Fascinating!
Wasn’t that an amazing time! Our tilted necks back like baby birds—what’s visual!
Nancy,
Calling it the “American” moon really draws us into the context of this childhood experience. Thank you for sharing your memory recall in your poetry today.
Nancy! I love this. I told a little of my experience watching the moon landing when I was four. I wish I had gone into rich detail like you. I do recall looking up often, hoping to see that flag.
I love this part:
My heart just gave an extra beat on this verse:
We ran out the front door, stood in the driveway
and tilted our necks back like baby birds
to take in the sight, the moon was bright—
Such a lovely image – – heads back like baby birds. Ready to take on the world through the power of one who proved that the power was indeed there!
Oh my goodness! I wrote about this same thing! YES! We craned our necks like baby birds! We were spine-tingled!
I love that we both thought of this when we thought of moonlight.
I was 9.
Lovely way to end the July Open Write after reflecting on sadder time, I write about the summer of our freshman years in college when I met this man!
Moonlight, Shine Bright
Mooning over the man I love
Watching the sliver in the dark sky above
Will he write and offer me his name
Or will my name stay always the same?
I sit below the glowing moon
Hoping my love will call me soon.
Will he ask this time and offer his hand
Or will my name and his fade here in the sand?
Oh moonlight, shine bright. Depart now and run.
We’ve come back now that our names are one.
We’re giving a cheer for what you have done.
You’re off to cheer others and left us the sun!
We met in the town we’re visiting today; our first out-of-town trip since sequestration last year! Yes, it was in 1960’s that we met and upon graduation, married.
This line—mooning over the man I love…. What hopes we had! And i am so glad that you are revisiting that place—together—today!
I love this reflection, Anna. That moon is constant, just like your love. Something we have in common- my husband and I met at getting-to-know-you activities right before freshman classes started and married right after graduation. All the best to you and your husband on your trip.
This poem reflects the long love of you and your husband.
Or will my name and his fade here in the sand?
This is so romantic and shows the long-lasting love you have for each other.
I hope you have a glorious trip!
Anna, how beautiful! A poem on the day you’re visiting the town in which you met – – cheers to you and the man you love – – who wooed you to take his name! Ain’t love grand??
Mo and Tracie—this week has been wonderful! Thank you for sharing and for your wonderful thoughts. When I was young, I loved to think of the moon as a benevolent observer. I pulled forward your golden shovel, and here we go…
I see the moon, and the moon sees me
God bless the moon and God bless me!
I owned the moon, or at least thought I had tamed it.
In the car, at night, dad drove silently; Mom dozed, and I could see
the silvery orb gazing down on me as I looked up from the back seat.
The moon followed us home—I knew it did,
and I wonder, now, what it saw.
Did it see the tired truck driver, happy to be home with his family for a change?
Did it see the loneliness of a trucker’s wife?
Did the moon sense the tension of never-enough-money?
If the moon sees everything, did it see how hard they were trying
to build a life for me and my soon-born sister?
God knows, they tried to hide their worries, and I
bless them for it, but we were not a joyous family.
But, still, I believed that I held the moon on an invisible kite string,
towing it behind us in the car, and I passed that slender tow-rope on to
my children. God knows we tried to hide our troubles from them,
And probably failed, just as my parents did.
But I tried to give them the moon. Bless–
ed be the children. And thanks to the moon for following me home in the car.
Gayle, this calls to mind the nighttime drives in my parents’ car – the muffled sounds of tire on pavement and the moon following. I love that line – “the moon followed us home – I knew it did” as it captures the firmness of childhood belief. But even more I love the image of the moon on a kite string towed behind the car – that’s a beauty and a keeper.
So lovely, Gayle. You’ve certainly captured a common childhood thought- that they moon was ours. You’ve evoked so many wonderful memories for my. I really appreciate the way you’ve played with the golden shovel, too. So inspiring!
That image of you holding the moon on an invisible kite string brings those ideas and thoughts of childhood innocence straight to the forefront, along with the certainty that all families have our worries, our doubts, and things we keep hidden from the younger members – – until they are old enough to understand life and more of its complexities. For a moment, though, while young, we CAN believe that we hold the moon on a string. Thank you for showing us those sweet pictures.
Gayle, how cleverly you incorporated the mined words from Mo and Tracie!
I see the moon, and the moon sees me
God bless the moon and God bless me!
This, too, is my affirmation. Wherever we’ve lived, we lived beneath the same moon and we have been blessed…even as we’ve “lived on line” this past year and gotten to know so many educators so willing to share and support one another. I’ve been blessed through you!
Mo and Tracie, thank you for a week of writing; each day brought a new and inspiring challenge. Mo, you set aside the tension (the resting heron), allowing both reader and koi a sense of peace – all in just eleven words. We have had a few days with the moon an unusual color, an eerie shade that has appeared more frequently, unfortunately. It was the first image that came to mind with today’s writing invitation.
Fire Moon
There’s such a thing
as the Blood Moon
painted red against
a dark sea,
according to prophets and
other ill-wishers,
a sign of the beginning
of the end
of times
when “the sun will turn into darkness
and the moon into blood.”
A result of lunar eclipse.
But recently
it is the Fire Moon
that rises
inside the black cloak,
ruddy,
coppered,
engine red.
No siren accompanies it
in song or alarm,
but it is a harbinger,
ominous,
a Rayleigh Scattering
from western fires,
apocalyptic,
surely a sign of the beginning
of the end
of times.
The imagery here is stunningly accurate. I, too, have marveled at the beauty of the moon, and the evening sun, these past few days as they glow red in the haze, and I have to remind myself that the beauty comes from an awful conflagration on the other side of the continent.
Jennifer, such vivid descriptions coupled with such powerful symbolism. Harbinger is the perfect word to build your second stanza around. Your poem is both sad and true.
Jennifer! The imagery in this—
“it is the Fire Moon
that rises
inside the black cloak,
ruddy,
coppered,
engine red.
No siren accompanies it
in song or alarm,”
—you can practically hear the ominous background music as you read it. Powerful images, powerful words. I hope you’re wrong, but I fear you are not…
That Fire Moon is ominous. Your poem is full of imagery.
The Blood Moon and the Fire Moon both seem ominous and apocalyptic. Great imagery!
Jennifer, this prophetic imagery sets the mood for the end of times – fire and blood moons bring to mind the apocalyptic times in a way that provokes a lot of forethought about the times in which we live and future days.
Jennifer, I love how you develop a sense of foreboding in your poem. “apocalyptic” is the perfect word to project the ominous harbinger the “Blood Moon” represents. Sensational poem!
Mo and Tracie,
Thank you so much for these enriching prompts. I needed this right now. And, I love the openness of today’s prompt. I basically went stream of consciousness . . .
Waxing Nostalgic
The moon fascinates me.
As a child, I spent a lot of time before falling asleep,
looking out the window mesmerized by
the ball of cheese with gradients of grey
I was four when the astronauts showed those Russians
and landed on the moon.
I have a very vivid recollection
of watching that in our living room
on a small boxy TV
with a handful of Dad’s prized students gathered around
to share the historical happening.
Conspiracy theorists
question whether the moon landing was real.
Cynicism isn’t much a part of me
so I believe all that I saw
on that July night in 1969.
Neil Armstrong wouldn’t lie to us.
He’s a Purdue guy.
Night creeps me out.
Darkness
Quiet
Limited movement.
Fear of needing something and being unable to get it.
I think of the people before electricity and streetlights.
Even before lanterns.
They had the moon
that’s it.
The moon was all there was to shed some light,
guide their movements,
offer them comfort
in the unsettling night.
I consider myself a reasonably intelligent person
but one thing that my mind cannot process:
moon phases
(my lowest grade in college was in Astronomy 101).
Waxing and waning
Gibbous and crescent
I can’t grasp something rotating
around something else rotating
and a huge star giving it light.
What the heck?
And I surely don’t get
how the moon helps control
the tides
but it sure honks me off
when I’m on the beach
reading a book and snoozing
and all of the sudden
the waves of high tide
crash up over me.
As a teacher,
I know fully-well
the effect of the
full moon
on the behavior of kids.
But, why?”
How can that ball of cheese
make them so loony?
Then there’s the book series
Twilight, New Moon, Eclipse, and Breaking Dawn.
I shared those books–
and their movies–
with our teenage daughters
back in the day.
I have never thought
of the moon the same way since.
Thanks, Jacob.
I’m thankful for
that unappreciated satellite,
that eye in the sky,
and all that it offers.
Especially when it waxes
or maybe when it wanes.
I’m really not sure.
~Susan Ahlbrand
21 July 2021
Susan, I love how this shows your relationship to the moon over time. I never got those phases down either. I help the science teacher review it with her students. But, it’s never anything I need to remember. My favorite line, is ” he’s a Perdue guy.” Wonderful story bits in this poem.
Susan, your stream-of-consciousness is awesome. I love how you’ve tied it all together with your lack of astronomical knowledge. You’ve inspired me to write a poem that is more free flowing. Thank you!
Susan, love that title! It connects so perfectly to your stream of consciousness. I felt as if we just had a conversation, and your poem captures your side of the back and forth. I loved “listening” to where you “talked” us, especially in the observances “what the heck” and “he’s a Purdue guy” and “how can that ball of cheese make them so loony” (or lune-y). I enjoyed this rotation around the rotation.
Susan—you took us on a trip through your mind, and I am so glad you let me ride along! I Your voice is so clear here, and I especially loved the last stanza. I once had to teach science (reading in the content area, in my mind). When we hit astrology, I made it through two days, realized how out of my depth I was, and told the kids it was so far away, anyway, so let’s do geology instead!
Susan, we both wrote about our impressions of the first moonwalk! I like how you continued your poem up to the present day. Your sense of humor makes the moon a fun mystery.
Susan, I am captivated by your stream of consciousness writing. I am particularly fascinated with all of the different memories and pathways it evokes for ideas – like for those times we feel the well is running dry. What a great way to sit down, pick up a pen, and invite it to go on a visit of a time in the past….or present….or future….. 🙂
Susan, It looks like at least three of us wrote about our memories from the first moon landing! Linda Mitchell said “story bits” and that’s what I loved about this too. You wind us through a series of moon memories–with dashes of humor (Purdue guy! Thanks, Jacob!)
Oooooh. Super prompt. I love the images in your poem, Mo of the koi and resting heron. Beautiful.
Moon is a smooth word
round and cool
a compact of powder
for mountain tops and
valley stones.
Once, before moon was grown
It held a dipper of drink
to battlefield soldiers — waiting
for death– fading in and out
of visions of sweethearts
mothers and a long
lonely walk home
Linda, you have made magic from the moon today! I form the word with you in the first two lines. I love the personification in “Once, before moon was grown.” And that dipper of drink – you craft a soothing image for those awaiting death’s arrival.You’ve caused me to think of the moon in many different ways. I feel as if I’ve travelled many miles under your moon.
Linda, I really liked your opening examination of the word moon.the last half of your poem, before the moon was grown, is superb. That long lonely walk home is a beautiful ending.
also, I have a love/hate relationship with the herons. They’re beautiful, but I want them to leave my fish alone!
Linda-wow! All those smooth “oo” words. I never thought of that before. The image of the waning (waxing?) moon as a dipper of comfort will stay with me…the long lonely walk home…
Linda — Love this image: “a compact of powder for mountain tops and valley stones.” Beautiful poem!
I love seeing this word play form again. And you have added your storytelling twist on it. I love this:” Once, before moon was grown
It held a dipper of drink
to battlefield soldiers”
Linda, I love the imagery, “round and cool” and “compact powder”. Then you personify the moon and I perceived it as a comforting presence in time of death. Really interesting to ponder this!
Such a beautiful poem, Linda. Your imagery is perfect.
Linda, this is haunting and hopeful all at the same time – – a brush with the past, a memory of gratefulness, a reminder that life is fleeting. That image of the dipper of drink conjures the drinking gourd in the time of the Civil War. I love what you have done here.
No and Tracie, your gifts of inspiration and encouragement this week have been water to parched writing souls seeking to quench our thirst! No, I love a Haiku, and strung mine together in chained verse. I saw those koi swimming and that reminded me of my mother’s koi pond! Thank you for the smile to start the day!
Nature’s Flashlight
In springtime moonlight
the neap tides rise, salt marshes
tucked tightly in bed
In summer moonlight
barefoot lovers’ silhouettes
hold hands on the shore
In autumn moonlight
candy-seeking sheet ghosts glide
jack-o-lanterns glow
But winter moonlight
holds the best magic of all:
a tiny red nose
Ah – the seasons as time, passing, below moonlight.
Nice approach
Kevin
How fun! love those salt marshes tucked up in bed. That’s a wonderful image!
Kim, I can not decide which of these images I am most pulled toward (a gravitational pull as a result of your moonlight magic). I want to both lie in the tucked in salt marshes and walk barefoot along the shore. But the smile the candy-seeking ghosts bring and that return to the childhood magic of the red nose compete for the top. Yours is a beautiful celebration of seasons.
Kim, I love the seasonal movement of your poem. Those barefoot lovers are wonderful. Nicely done!
Beautiful! This stanza stands out to me:
“In autumn moonlight
candy-seeking sheet ghosts glide
jack-o-lanterns glow”
I can so easily visualize this scene…”candy-seeking sheet ghosts” is perfection!
I love the way you have described the seasons using the moon events. my favorite one is the one of summer and the barefoot lovers’ silhouettes. You have given me four beautiful visual and poetic scenes.
Gorgeous images! I especially loved “barefoot lovers’ silhouettes/
hold hands on the shore”. I could visualize this like a painting. Beautiful!
I love the simplicity of this poem, great for kid lit. Perhaps submit to Cricket or something similar. That tiny red nose is adorable and can be a clear image to illustrate.
Oh Kim, this is pure magic! To travel through the seasons with moonlight certainly would appeal to my students. I have to remember this. Such a great idea!
My favorite:
Makes me want to sing the song, but I shall not alarm the household. LOL!
The moon lights
a mailbox:4922.
Just one number
different:2 instead of 9
at the end yet miles
from home.
Some people say
home is who you
love, but that’s not
true — for me.
For me, home
is the first place
I named it as such,
its sidewalks, streetlights
its traffic, its billboards on
the sides of brick buildings,
its the Eisenhower bottleneck,
its the Drake sign over Oaks Street
beach and miles of lake front
I drove as a teen imagining–
never imagining my home
would be moonlit 4922.
The way you connect the moonlight to a sense of place works wonderfully here, Sarah. It’s like we’re walking with you …
Kevin
Beautiful specificity with the number and the trees and Eisenhower bottleneck. Yet, it’s something I understand too.
Sarah, thank you for allowing us to consider the meaning behind the word home through the image of the moon lighting a mailbox number. We cannot change our roots, they are forever entangled in our sense of being. You place us right there in the sights and textures of your home. (the third stanza would work well as an invitation for students to share their roots, an alternative to the I’m From poem).
Home is most definitely what we make it. What a great job connecting your thoughts about home to the moonlight. Side note- my childhood home was 14903 and my current home is 14930.
Sarah — I love the movement of this poem as you walk through it. I was right there with you. Your ending was just perfect with the image of moonlight on your home.
Sarah, I love a poem that savors places without including one single human besides yourself! This is a poem for a memoir!
????????
By morning,
the chalk’s outlines
fade into mere shadows
of barely nothing
Guerrilla art by moonlight –
shapes and lines,
guided by flashlight –
becomes something
fleeting and ephemeral,
memories etched
to last longer
than the color
and dust
they contain
Kevin,
I feel oddly connected to you this morning posting just 8 minutes after you. Maybe we are/were both writing of the same moonlight miles away.
I love these lines:
And the dust of the moonlight is perfect.
Sarah
Connections between poets and writers are always special.
Have a great day
Kevin
“Guerrilla art by moonligt–” What a striking image. Love it!
This is beautiful, Kevin.you’ve really captured the beauty and fleeting nature of sidewalk chalk. I love your topic choice!
“Fade into mere shadows of barely nothing” I wish I’d written that glorious set of words…
Beautiful poem! Love the feeling of nostalgia you’ve created and especially the last stanza which reminds me of all the wonderful chalk memories from when my children were little.
Ohhh, this is glorious!
I admire you, early bird poets, and perhaps I should awaken before dawn and compose such loveliness!