Poetry in motion

The Mind Of Christ

moonius — Sat, 11 Apr 2009 12:13:16 +0000

In Christ do you have any encouragement?
Any comfort from his love?
Are your hearts tender and compassionate?
Any fellowship from the Spirit above?

Then make me truly happy
loving one another, be kind
agree with each other wholeheartedly,
work together, one purpose, one mind.

Life is too short to be selfish
there’s no need to try to impress.
With humility put others first.
Don’t look out for your own interests.

Have the same attitude as Christ Jesus
who took the humble position of a slave
and was born in human flesh
to offer the way to be saved

When he appeared in human form,
in humility He obeyed God’s plan
died a criminal’s death on the cross
provided redemption for every man

God granted Him the highest honor
His name is above all other names
every knee shall bow, every tongue confess
Jesus Christ is Lord, heaven and earth proclaims.

Love Ascension

moonius — Mon, 16 Feb 2009 17:47:18 +0000

All my life this sensitive soul

Searched for love and acceptance to make me whole

You rescued me from sadness and solitude

And changed my attitude to gratitude

Your sweet spirit was the attraction

Made me desire more interaction

Anxiously awaiting every conversation

Each message developed infatuation

From our awkward first greeting

We knew there was no retreating

More about each other every day we know

Causing our affection and tender love to grow

God gave you to me as the very best blessing

To rejuvenate my life and keep me from stressing

Our two lives are commingled now as one flesh

So much in common, we communicate and mesh

I admire your beauty, your charm and grace

The look of love observed on your face

You’re my sweet heart, I love all your ways

I promise to love you for all of my days.

Sketches of Spain

moonius — Sun, 15 Feb 2009 13:02:50 +0000

Late September ‘59

Gil Evans wrote the storyline

Miles Davis painted sketches of Spain

his trumpet played the mellifluous strain

Musical canvas conjures up images

of Sevillian caballeros,

Castillian conquistadors

pinstriped Pomeranians

and Madridian matadors.

Dusk on the beach, bright orange sunset

gyrating gypsies with colorful castanets

and frilly flamencos flirt with hirsute brunettes

with dark doe eyes that mesmerize and hypnotize.

Whenever I hear that music it takes me back

to a time and place when I was unaware of race

of better days and happy endings

of childhood memories and humble beginnings.

02/27/02 Lunarmax Productions

Solo

moonius — Sat, 14 Feb 2009 11:19:57 +0000

Lamplight creates the ambiance
as I slip into the dusky dining room

My eyes slowly adjust to the absence of fluorescence
as I stake my claim at the empty table

None is aware of my presence here
creating my own atmosphere

Sitting in obscurity, apathetic about etiquette
extremely aware of my own introversion

Desiring not conversation, but rather silence
Preferring solitude over the lonely crowded room.

Smoky Mountain High

moonius — Sat, 14 Feb 2009 11:09:45 +0000

Standing atop Clingmans Dome,

partly sunny cloudy day

gleaming golden orange fireball warms my skin

sparkling sun rays glisten and flash on windswept water

abundant acres of mountains stand flanked in rows

smoky blue haze hangs over endless natural beauty

trees green or bare stretch branches heavenward

clearly giving credence to their creator

serpentine sinuous streams slither thru the valley

inhale altitude thinned air from 6600 feet

and nonetheless cherish this breathtaking awesome view

as a crisp cool breeze caresses my face

Then it all came back to me, “this is what I miss”

this place where mind, soul, body and spirit

all rendezvous…

the place where I feel so close to you

We shared a fellowship here a quarter century ago

no guilt, no shame, standing boldly in your presence

life’s trauma and dramas fall away like broken shackles

Freedom, peace, serenity and tranquility flow from your fountain

never want to leave, wish it could always be this way

but roaming through dark valleys makes me appreciate the overlook

Wonderful it will be to live in your glory and never depart

eternal life through your Son, the comfort of your Spirit.

Communication

moonius — Sat, 14 Feb 2009 11:02:19 +0000

An exceedingly wise woman,

author and mother of three

while consumed in conversation

shared this thought with me…

“Writing is like giving birth.”

She oughta know.

and so when I write…

I give birth to interesting ideas

imparting imagery to experience

granting life to a legacy

that will obviously outlive me.

become exactly what I want it to be

say exactly what I want it to say

perpetuate my take,

my slant,

a verbal implant.

words of dignity…

instead of vanity

it’s my therapy…

keeps my sanity…

that’s what writing does for me.

we all have a unique perspective

only you can express your view

communication is the objective

nobody sees the world quite like you do.

Desire

moonius — Sat, 14 Feb 2009 10:53:10 +0000

Longing to be with you in stillness and simplicity

Lost in a loving stare, eyes intertwined

Touring and traveling through your thoughts

while a smooth jazz guitar softly sets the scene.

A gentle breeze saunters through the summer leaves

night carefully creeps upon the dusk until

the moon displays its fullness and glory and

a distant lofty owl chants his mundane refrain.

Tender touch sends surges throughout my being

Responding in kind evokes expressive emotions

my love … my treasure

I bathe in the stream of your affection

and drink from the fountain given only to me.

What an exuberant experience,

to know your flowering femininity

We are fearfully and wonderfully made

for mutual friendship, enjoyment and pleasure

until one day like tender shoots of grass

we wither in the wind and just fade away.

Vapor

moonius — Sat, 14 Feb 2009 10:30:41 +0000

Tiredness in your voice demands attention

work once a challenge has become a chore

years continue to pile up like refuse on a heap.

Realizing some things you’ll never accomplish

accepting the absence of ability

the ever-changing body wearing down and out

eyes that used to sparkle and glimmer

now grow dim and strain for clarity.

Massive muscular legs and feet

now ache, swell, sprain and fracture

the stroll lost the battle to the limp

Fingers and hands once nimble and able

now well acquainted with stiff and sore

dull pain waves as it takes a lap around the track.

Dreams and desire quietly creep away

misery and pain are constant companions

energy once abounding, now so easily depleted

even caffeine brandishes a weak hammer.

Memory began to fade many years ago

the mind is a terrible thing (to waste)

they said your whole life was ahead of you

but it passed you by and you didn’t even notice

now you look back and wonder…

what was that all about?

did it make any difference?

does anybody really care?

Lunarmax Productions

Rejection

moonius — Fri, 13 Feb 2009 21:21:16 +0000

I was concerned about getting to the studio on time,

so the first time we were together I didn’t even notice

you, in a room full of writers gathered together for whatever reason

to grab the torch from a journeyman who would soon pass away.

I don’t know what went through your head but,

you apparently noticed me

and based on what you said

you wondered if I would come back to B&N,

hoped that you would see me again

seemed to be so glad to see me when

our paths finally crossed again

you invited me to join you for coffee

what an encouraging offer

you were so interesting, so charming and friendly,

so vibrant and witty, so full of “joie de vive”

an instant admirer that open mic night

you stood to read your soliloquy

mesmerized by your obvious talent

such passion with tranquility

after a wonderful evening of prose

we made our way toward the exit

distracted by an acquaintance

wanting to continue conversation

we swapped e-mails, bid each other adieu

you walked out of B&N and I went back to see this friend

then at rhyme-n-chatt

awestruck by your lyrics

asked to peruse your poem

and things began to change

detached and aloof

I saw another side of you

you wrote about a cookie

if my memory serves me well

all that was left from a relationship

with the anonymous man in your rhyme

I thought … “maybe that’s what happened,

one man could turn you against them all”

stereotypes never amount to much

I brought my wife to open mic

introduced you to each other

then the transformation,

again you were so charming and friendly

so vibrant and witty, so full of “joie de vive”,

just like that first night we chatted over coffee.

I thought we could be friends

people like you are precious and few.

Wonderworld

moonius — Fri, 13 Feb 2009 21:12:18 +0000

This is the summer of my discontent

no surprise… I could see it coming

The pursuit of power was my dream

but now I know

that fame is not synonymous with success.

now work no longer is a challenge

lost its thrill and cutting edge

more money doesn’t fulfill my needs

it only serves to feed my selfish greed.

my soul wants to move on

and my spirit longs to soar

high above to the next level.

Grown weary of the thriving metropolis

the peaking decibels of noise,

the harried frenetic pace of life,

the inescapable stench of pollution,

the deceived, enslaved people

all working on their image control

while the lusty lure of temptation

and the cloak of paranoia abound.

Longing for the earthy aroma of rich farm land,

the taste of cool, fresh spring water on my parched lips,

the golden rays to tan my wanting face

the feel of soft green grass blades, the potpourri of wildflower perfume,

ancient trees that form majestic mountains crouching below billowy skies

the cries of wildlife and the inescapable light of the yellow moon…

Wage war against the spirit of discontent

return to that place of solitude and safety

breathe the cool, crisp morning of freedom

bask in the baking warmth of summer southern sunshine

bathe in the cleansing cold pelting drops of a torrential downpour

become one with nature again… and again

be accepted for the content of your character

rather than the color of your skin

and measure wisdom by the number of years

rather than by titles or degrees

06/02/01