I am in Adelaide for a couple of days for work and it has been a very hectic day with rather a lot going on and also a function on this evening which went on until late. Coming back to the Hotel, the moon was up in the sky and the city was rather quiet and seemed quite forlorn – it is a midweek night after all. While walking back, my mind worked over some words: Woolen shrouds, liquid graves, scrawny branches and the passage of time as the moon described its endless circles across the skies…
So for this poem blame the moon and my late night walk…
The moon with face of bronze and full Ascends so slow from the horizon low; Peeks through the wispy clouds of greyish wool It climbs, it rises and assumes a silver glow.
The trees attempt to grasp the satellite They stretch bare branches to the sky. The wind that blows will usher in the night While boughs turn into claws up high.
The moon impassive in the heavens reigns And looks upon the city’s ghastly sprawl. It reaches zenith and then beams it rains To drown in river, wrapped in liquid pall.
Silver is now the swarthy face of clouds The sparkling stars shine coldly down. Streets empty, houses are enclosed in shrouds; Cold earth, dead trees, a silent, ghostly town.
The hours flee, the minutes quickly fly Bodies and loves, all passions will wear thin. Only the moon forever turns her eye As people die and lives anew begin.
I have been blogging daily on this platform for several years now. It is surprising that I have persisted as the world is changing and "microblogging" is now the norm. I blog to amuse myself, make comment on current affairs, externalise some of my creativity, keep notes on things that interest me, learn something new and to surprise myself with things that I discover about this wonderful, and sometimes crazy, world we live in.
I sometimes get the impression that I am on a soapbox delivering a monologue, so your comments are welcome.