Symphony Number 10 Poem by W. Blaine Wheeler

Symphony Number 10



Mounting easter orb fuiji flung moves slowly
newfoundlandward eventually and without fail
to uncover again
What had been moon shrouded evenly
In its remembered absence.

Defying thermometers and other measurements
And flare filled beyond need in joyous
dances,
This one cannot be caught, taught, or
Scorned by mediocrity worshipping rabble.

Torched into brilliance by cause before
man was adamed
and placed punctiliously perfect
For terra's health, wisdom, and harm;
Luna's gloss source was well enthroned
to be
For lovers brought together without effort.

Thursday, April 9, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: love and art
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