Harvest Moon

newest poem, FIRST DRAFT

Oh! There was a time, when I, when I did sleep.

But no! I did not dream!

I was like a corpse upon my bed,

Barely even existing in my darkness.

But as the blackest blacks came forth,

And as the clock struck twelve,

I dreamt!

I thought!

And I arose!

 

         “Talking, talking, spinning a web of words,

                  Pale walls of dreams

                  Between myself and all I see.”**

         Pacing about my mind,

                  Behind pale walls of words

                  And dreams of poetry.

                 

         Talking, talking, pacing, breathing the sobering

                  Midnight air.

         Harvesting the harvest moon,

                  That hangs so low, and glows so fair.

 

Oh! Now the sun does take his rest

         And all his light is gone, digressed.

Time itself is static, is unchanging,

         Time is stopped.

He listens for, he listens for,

         “tic-tock, tic-tock, tic-tock”

But in his dreamless mind he knows,

         No sound will reach his ears.

And so he sleeps, he sleeps, he sleeps,

         He suffers through the years.

His corpse upon his bed, it does not dream,

         It does not stir.

Time is stopped, there is no clock,

         To chime and wake him up.

And so the sun, the son, the son,

         The sun he will not rise.

 

Oh! You! Harvest moon! Let your moonlight

         Shine!

Let me write, to write, to write; to harvest

         Pale walled dreams from thee.

Talking, taking, writing, pacing,

         Spinning a web of words!

Crafting from your light

         Pale walls of dreams for all to see.

 

Talking, writing, pacing, breathing the

         Sobering midnight air.

I harvest you, oh harvest moon

         Who hangs so low, and glows so fair.

 

 

Now speak, speak, oh glowing one;

Say, is your light not but the sun’s?

 

The sun’s light never did go down,

         It’s glowing, glowing, all around.

Time’s no longer static, it has changed,

         It is not stopped.

So I listen, listen for,

         “tic-tock, tic-tock, tic-tock”

And oh! Behold! There is a sound!

         It’s ringing in my ears!

Oh yes! The sun, he will not sleep,

         Or suffer through the years!

Yes! The sun, the son of eve,

         The son of eve will rise!

Yes, I, the sun, the son of eve!

         I have dreamt!

         And I have thought!

         I truly have arisen!

 

Now speak to me, oh glowing one,

Say, is your light not but the sun’s!

         Reflected to the darkest nights to keep

         The clocks from stopping?

 

Is that how the clock struck twelve, to

         Wake me from my dreamless sleep?

 

Did you wake me,

         So I may speak,

         And spin a web of words for thee

 

Did you, craft for me,

         Pale walls of words and poetry,

         That now I do but read?

 

Speak, speak! Oh glowing one,

Now is it you who harvests me?!

 

 

Oh, thank you, thank you, “Harvest Moon,”

For shining my own light on me.

Pale walls of words and dreams of you,

That I, I write; and harvest thee.

Author's Note

** from Grendel by John Gardner; Chapter 1, Page 8
(really good book)

this is the very first draft of this poem
im gonna edit it a little bit to make it work more
but tell me what you think so far

its a spoken word feel, after i get it edited and 'polished' I'm gonna record it and put an audio file up here with the text

i literally just wrote this today, i was practically possessed by it while i was writing it
so yeah

Reviews

[Alicante lullaby]

beyond brilliant,,,,beyond the realm of words,,,you have spun light,,,harvesting the moon ,,,so lovely and the end was beyond anything i have read so far,,,the cresent shines in the mirror of lakes ,,,showering your own light upon you and the reader feels the ectasy,,,thankyou for this so very ethereal trip,,,

[Bud]

Wonderful piece, as all your work is. You have a great friend in your pen!

[cest la vie]

Ahhhh...

Well my comfort zone is the spoken word piece..I just this afternoon watched a friend read poetry for an open mic.. This piece would have fit in perfectly. Actually, a step farther, in a Poetry Slam..

The twists and turns you take the reader on is absolutely mind-blowing..
This takes quite some skill to keep the flow smooth without it being jumbled to the reader..
Out standing.. Not really sure what edits you need or want to do..


Two thumbs way up there...up high...

I think it is great as is..

[Georgia Gypsy]

This is brilliant!! It has the feel of the master's(like Frost, and Blake) with a fresh new feel to it! I think you did an awesome job. I think I saw this exact moon, and maybe even danced under it:)
Great job!!
let me know when you edit, I can't wait to see how you distill the content to polish it up!