dark of the moon
the night before solstice
midwinter
I remember
nights of dancing
song and prayer
I celebrate
in silence tonight
solitary
a watcher
(not that there is one)
would only see
an old woman
sitting and writing
sipping wine
lifting her head
now and then to gaze
at the dark
she is wearing black
and around her neck
a moonstone
Your shortest, our longest.
ReplyDeleteMy 'celebration' needed the sun, but yet again, clouds spoiled our fun.
Come take a look and read my sonnet [?] that has been lingering unloved and unvisited on my page.
I love constructing sonnets, but people stay away in droves. They only seem to like the silly and pretty meaningless [to me] so-called free-style poems I put up.Nowt as funny as folk.
I admire your sonnets, and shall certainly explore further. Your free verse is entertaining, which is fine, but I for one prefer the sonnets.
DeleteOh damn! In bowing to your wish to have one thread deleted, I seem to have deleted the latest exchange as well. So, to reply once more to your query:
Delete'Pity the focal point of your background image is hidden: so striking, pardon the pun.
That soil looks frighteningly cracked. Is that your image?'
No, it's a Blogger template which I thought suited the 'energy' theme. I also liked the white, red and black colour scheme (for maiden, mother and crone) which of course can include grey.
PS If you scroll down, you get to see the rest of the picture, and it becomes apparent that that isn't cracked earth but a choppy ocean.
Delete