Moon poems by Dawn Anderson

Link to Poetry Prompts Podcast #1

Coming soon: Link to buy my Poetry Book


Dour Moon
by Dawn Anderson

Dour moon
waning gibbous of the Wolf moon
balding on the top,
pouting in the murky sky,
looking down upon the chilly landscape.

Stars dare not crowd
the grumpy moon
but wrinkle their noses
and wonder at her sour mood.

Why is the moon so solemn?
December’s rush
of full lunar eclipse
and winter solstice
gives way to the silent
Cold moon of deep winter.

Oh moon
teller of fortunes,
maker of tides,
marker of time,
anchor of the sun,
and Tarot’s ruler of flux.

You are mystery,
and intuition like the night thriving bat.
You are the swiftest celestial body
visiting each sign on your journey ‘round heaven’s homes.
You sway our emotions and tug at our psyche,
you light the Cimmerian cave of long night,
keeping watch over our sleeping forms.

Thank you oh moon for your
unerring devotion
and tireless sentinel.
Rest now as day has broken
and sun has spilled his waking nectar upon the land
rousing us to happy industry
spending the energy our night’s hibernation
begotten under the safety of your keen eye.

Wolf Moon
by Dawn Anderson

Wolf moon
hanging too bright at the witching hour.
A wide aura of dirty yellow like a long canine tooth
surrounds his countenance.
I can feel his magnetic pull
tugging at my water composition
like the clouds reeled toward his perfect round mass.

Wolf moon casts his aging light on earthly forms
making them barley seen in the dark of night.
Mysterious shapes of goblin trees and
shadows of arbor vitae like witches hair.
The land is more alive
not the sleeping night
but a night for haunting in the funeral rain.

Harvest Moon
by Dawn Anderson

The color of field corn
of aged canine tooth
of ripe wheat
and bailed hay
is the Harvest moon.

Harvest moon looms large in summer’s waning crown.
He gazes down upon bursting dahlias
and fallen filberts chased by busy squirrels
who cache their meat for the wintertide interlude.

Harvest moon brings a cooling mist upon the wearied land.
It is time to rest the fertile soil and hardworking sun,
to gather the fruits of the field and of the vine
and hoard them for the long winter’s sustenance.

The crops are in,
the haymow is full,
the root cellar bulges,
and canned beans line the basement walls.
Time to rest our calloused hands and sunburnt arms,
to lift a glass of elderberry wine
and ask the harvest moon for the blessings of plenty.

Creative Commons License
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.


About createthedawn

Dawn’s calling is for her poetry to “light the gloomy corners of the world.” She facilitates writing workshops both online and face-to-face and is a dynamic speaker on inspiration, innovation, change, and healing. Dawn believes in the power of poetry to process, to focus, to align, and to find our way to happiness and fulfillment. Thus, her business and her blog are called: create the dawn.
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2 Responses to Moon

  1. Pingback: Moon | The Rag Tree

  2. ctd: a great post, and i’ve reposted…thx for sharing! RT

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