Place Bust-a-Rhyme Poetry Contest Winner, 2007
O’ recreant Moon,
What hast thou for thee?
Hast thou nothing,
Nothing for thee?Speak!
I beseech thou to speak!
‘Tis there not a drop of joy to moisten such despair,
‘Tis there not a speckle of jubilance?Thee,
Who has been bed-less in the chill night,
Who hast been guided by thine own foot,
Who hast been depraved in absence of thou’s Moonlight,
Who hast been shrouded in darkness.
How dare thou neglect thee two-fold…
four-fold…O’ benevolent Virgo,
‘Twas I not birthed under thou’s innocent wing?
Then why to thing heart thou beckons nay?
Why is the blood of the frigid yet?
Thou too hast shunned affection from thou’s own offspring.
Such insolence devoid of regret,
Constellations once thought to have pity upon thee.Art there none to pierce this obsidian isolation?
None to syncopate this solitary pulse,
Or grasp this coarse palm?Merciless Death,
How I implore for thou’s embrace,
For the Moon to retreat once again and unbind the sky’s lioness,
To wither thine vampiric soul to ash in it’s brilliant roar,
All I ask for is haste.
Do not fret of flinching,
As my eyelids are closed.O’ relentless Sun,
Take thee away,
Do as the Night Stars couldn’t do to thee.‘Tis the deed done?
I cannot tell.Thine eyelids recoil,
But tis not Hades I see,
Staring back to thee art hazel Suns,
As poignant as any stellar display,
Bringing tears to thing eyes as a child of Hyperion would.Moon?
Hast thou spoken?
Silence is all that thy hears.Dawn approaches,
And No longer is thine blood icy,
For thine veins are sanguine,
No longer is thine heart without rhythm,
For thine chest beats to the baton of an unseen maestro.
Thou need not speak,
For thine ears ring with one word,
One syllable to thee not spoken oft,
And forever one word to never forget,