A Compilation Of Ten Moon Poems Poem by Captain Cur

1) Moonlit Chamber's Bath
2) Moon Tides The Pattern Of My Soul
3) Female Essence I Adore
4) Fancy Bows And Ribbons Made Of Red
5) Benighted In Her View
6) Autumnal Equinox, Weymouth Bay
7) If There Were No Moon, Rondeau Redouble
8) A Spell Is Cast Across The Rising Moon
9) Stewarded To The Earth And Sapphire Sea
10) Billing Love Every Night! The Show That Never Dies

MOONLIT CHAMBER'S BATH (1)

Envisioning rapture, Venusian stance
reflecting window garden's evening trance
solitary beauty weaves midnight path
pouring innocence in moonlit chamber's bath.

Encased in armor, black sentinel watch,
my spirit trapped in polished keyless latch
large chalice light paved candle glowing burns
immobile Knight displays decorum's form.

Each night I stand as she disrobes in gold
upraise arms naked stained glass flowers fold
invoking sighs from heavy trembling steel
lifeless statue, what could ancient metal feel;
eyeless, mouth-less, earless mesh cross-stitched face
dreamless voids from dark cold heartless space.

One night intrigued she ventured stealthily
lifts my helmet her lips spoke silently
then turned my head toward the steaming mist
and bathed my dreams in droplets warming kiss.

(This poem was inspired by a painting of a
young woman about to enter her bath on a
moonlit evening, visible through large panes
of stained glass, with a decorate knight
encased in armor standing watch in the room.)

MOON TIDES THE PATTERN OF MY SOUL (2)

Falling beauty pales in nights unsleeping
whispered to my marker hedged in stone
fear not though the midnight breeze is weeping
for the moon tides the pattern of my soul.

Rolling waves embrace an inner silence
inflected by their rising harmony
pounding shores drumming steady violence
she calls them back and slowly they recede.

Monuments are built to gods and martyrs,
idle worship reprised in pageantry,
wars afloat in blood and human horror
rewritten by ignoble history.

Surging seas unleash a stalwart power,
tempestuous they rage in mystery;
penetrating, crumbling earthly towers
immense foundations washed out by the sea.

Innocence must brave the unknown silence;
purity will light the burnished eve,
cast me moon, redeem me from the violence,
in the beauty of your midnight weeping breeze.

Falling beauty pales in nights unsleeping
whispered to my marker hedged in stone
fear not though the midnight breeze is weeping
for the moon tides the pattern of my soul.

(This poem is part of a series, titled
Spectral Verses, written from the viewpoint
of Lord Byron speaking from the grave.
There are 10 parts in this series.)

FEMALE ESSENCE I ADORE (3)

Here forever her spirit's glow
that trines the vestiges of grace
and burns throughout her largess soul
in the munificence of space.
Equating her aquiline form,
full exhortations of her sphere
above the mist and earthly storm
from her pearl light's refracting tears;
beneath the shroud of her wan face
through the mystery of her orb,
her sweeping hemline's timeless cape,
the female essence I adore.

FANCY BOWS AND RIBBONS MADE OF RED (4)

I chased your smile as the stars slid past
then caught you laughing on the sleeping grass,
the brilliance of the moon dove in your eyes
I was lost in the beauty of the closing skies;
the way you dressed and held your pretty head
in fancy bows and ribbons made of red.

I studied diligence and turned to ask
who I caught laughing as the stars slid past,
you did not answer with a voice or name
you opened your eyes and the moonlight came;
the way you smiled and held your pretty head
in fancy bows and ribbons made of red.

When I awoke the stars were fading fast
your name was written on the dying grass.
I called to wake you in the sunlit skies
but the moon was gone and you closed your eyes;
the way you looked and held your pretty head
in fancy bows and ribbons made of red.

BENIGHTED IN HER VIEW (5)

Full moon bears down with her enchanted rays
on oars of light which row a single path
through the course and uncertainty of days
her light unfolds the gateways to the past.

She lulls the immense oceans with her tow
each blade of grass benighted in her view,
mountains crowned by the halo of her glow
the tides enthralled by her commanding will.

On nights of these I rest in moonlit coves
gently tasked by the torchlight of her beams,
I call out to the world she ever loved
and sleep in the solitude of her dreams.

AUTUMNAL EQUINOX, WEYMOUTH BAY (6)

Autumnal Equinox

Beleaguered on all sides,
fate has dealt me a stifling blow;
yet, I marvel at this precious earth
with the Harvest Moon in tow.

Buffered by the isles brilliant lakes
in the blue tapestries of the sea
the threads of love slip my embrace
and I tremble at what must be.

Weymouth Bay

In late September the last warming rays
inspiring rests on me
nights are the loveliest in Weymouth Bay
protecting me from the sea.

Roving England's southern coast her pliant
chalk downs bedevil my eyes
centuries they stand awash in silence
demurred by the fleckless skies.

Built on the backs of the mineral salts
shallow oceans left behind
carved by the troughs of receding shores
bleeding white in faultless lines.

Majestic I soar with a subtle sight
while climbing green Dorcet hills
I view the world from these marvelous heights
where the hands of time lie still.

IF THERE WERE NO MOON, RONDEAU REDOUBLE (7)

If there were no moon dark would be the night;
the sun bereft without her maiden glow.
Our eyes devoid of her seductive light
and all her gifts once lavishly bestowed.

Igniting seas emblazoned in her tow;
invading shores directed by her flight,
waves retreat when once gallantly they rose
if there were no moon dark would be the night.

No harvest fields or phases that delight;
new to full her embodiments unfold
in tangent skies just lonely specks of light,
the sun bereft without her maiden glow.

In our greed, like a trinket she was sold,
now we're lost to the privilege of her sight
and we will weep with stricken empty souls
our eyes devoid of her seductive light.

In vain we want, as often is our plight,
for her return by stellar winds to blow
her back to home! We crave our mother's light
and all her gifts once lavishly bestowed.

A SPELL IS CAST ACROSS THE RISING MOON (8)

I took an oath that binds me to the sea;
I left behind all claims, all history,
bundled with my fears I carry them no more
from not the throat but from the plexus roar.
The storm has raged and now a pensive lull;
I string my flag, the crossbones and the skull,
the sun has set the world a golden hue
a spell is cast across the rising moon,
in her glow I rest in magic sleep,
the skies are charged, the world is in retreat.
I dream and wander deep within her source
to forbidden shores, onward is my course.

STEWARDED TO THE EARTH AND SAPPHIRE SEA (9)

Tonight the moon is new and spreads her light
And weaves between the clouds of milky white,
Does she dream? Does she love like me?
Stewarded to the earth and sapphire sea.
Is she impassioned, has she lost her way?
This minor luminary unseen by day;
While her soft beams infuse the midnight air
Honeysuckle and jasmine linger there,
In my lungs these different scents to know
Within my eyes her dreamy mystic glow.
I bathe in the properties of this light
Enchanted by her swift and steady flight
Through the tangled trees she will make her run
Outflanking the sinking yellow sun,
Traveling higher still on her horseless ride
Ascending to where earth and sky divide,
Is she not queen of these heavenly isles?
On airy ships that float and sail for miles,
Then hanging low bursting in orange flame
Transforming herself, yet, still one the same.
Can I contain myself, a sight this rare,
The power of a changing oblong sphere!

(This poem is taken from a series
called, Captive Queen, there are numerous
parts to this series, all parts have been
published separately, and also published
in one complete poem.)

BILLING LOVE EVERY NIGHT! THE SHOW THAT NEVER DIES! (10)

On this night moon's gentlest beams are cast
lighting an earthly stage premiering its first act.
Silver lines recited with each starring ray
gracing beasts and moistened grass as night fades into day.
She enters, pausing on a golden hill,
flowing in her silken gown, this sight lingers still;
soft pinkish hues, delighting upturned eyes,
shifting pastel colors rejuvenating skies.
From that managed height never seen before
in costumed heritage aged loveliness will pour;
rearranging props, the pillowed clouds have fled,
all but the slightest puffs left dancing bout her head,
arrayed in sequined dots, ornaments of flight,
is she a royal queen or princess of the night?

Then with all drama charging down the plain
in rhapsodic tenor asserts her silent reign;
through the narrows, on fields of standing corn,
sifting round the mountains, an understudied form;
rehearsing, her glittering lips will play,
smiling pale opaque light with nonsectarian rays.
It is time! the full starry cast is set,
plush velvety curtains starched and neatly pressed;
horns and trumpets, strings that rove in tides,
sounds fully orchestrated tuned and scattered wide,
drumming beats marching round the earthly coasts
waltzing on the stage all greet their amorous host.
Applause commences! then falls a sacred calm
held in a trancelike state within her lighted palm.
The moon's true purpose attested by each eye
billing love every night! The show that never dies!