THE SUBSERVIENT MOON

THE SUBSERVIENT MOON

Each day
The rising sun
chases the moon away
To hide its limpid light
From the brightness of day.
Cowed in its lair
Within the darkness
Of its sylvan hideaway,
Preferring to lie
With the leaves
And squirrels
And, as Clytie,
Watch the skies,
Following Helios’s chariot,
Gazing as he
Arcs the heavens,
Jealous of his power,
Fearful of his revenge
Were she ever to show her face
In his presence.
Ever allowing her nemesis
To hold sway
Over the new day,
Commanding the attention of the world
And continuing his journey;
The dominant presence
In the cerulean sky.

When is the moon not a moon? 
… When it’s the sun in a circular mirror. 

The three photographs are of a reflection in a window of daylight, itself reflected in a circular mirror and back onto the glass of the window.
All photographs by me – March 2017 … Roland (WHB) 

Night Light

‘Liverpool from Wapping’ … John Atkinson Grimshaw

Reflections on the Nocturnal Paintings of John Atkinson Grimshaw

In the gloom of my world,

In the dark of my dreams,

I capture with rapture

Those nights of moonbeams.

In the glow of the gaslights

I wander a while.

There is joy in their promise

And warmth in their smile.

Twinkling with stardust

Lights dance and dive;

Raindrops add lustre,

The streets are alive.

Light catches and clutches

And I feel the glow

Of these dark starlit nights

On the paths that I know.

Bringing warmth to my soul

As we meet face to face;

It’s the world that I live in

And I savour its grace.

Lady in a garden at Moonlight’ … 1882 – John Atkinson Grimshaw

John Atkinson Grimshaw (6 September 1836 – 13 October 1893) was an English Victorian-era artist who has been called a “remarkable and imaginative painter” -best known for his nocturnal scenes of urban landscapes. He was born in Leeds, Yorkshire,  and lived most of his life in that county. Wikipedia

A Secret Sonnet

‘Moonlight Tryst’ – WHB: Pen an ink, Dec.2017

They stressed my heart and bled it
Seeking to find you there,
But try as they could to discover
They never will find out where
You hide in lonely seclusion,
Your impregnable lonely lair.

For you are my cerebral lover,
Living a life in my brain;
We hold our trysts in the moonlight,
Let them look for ever in vain,
They never ever will find you,
For there is nought to explain.

Just a salve to pain and depression,
A caprice with a discreet confession.

SONNET: A CAPTURED DREAM

I have tried my hand at writing a Sonnet.  It is in Shakespearean format – 14 lines of iambic pentameter, made up of 3 quatrains, rhyming abab-cdcd-efef, followed by a couplet, rhyming  gg .

A CAPTURED DREAM

 

To seal my dream I wrote it in a book;

I wrote it as a verse in sonnet form.

Made sure I could retrieve your face, your look,

To hold it so it could my life transform.

 

I wandered far along a moonlit beach, 

Searching for a clue, I knew not what.

You were so far away and out of reach; 

A creature my dull mind almost forgot.

 

But then I saw some footprints in the sand;

I knew that I had seen those prints before.

Your bright red nails showed as my vision panned, 

And you were there upon that foreign shore. 

 

What bliss it was to capture in a dream

That glimpse as lucent as a moonlight beam.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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