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| Courtesy of Pixabay |
Under golden moonlight
slowly peel the layers of
my protective husk
revealing my silky fibers
shucking away insecurities
swooning in the maze
of September's desire
listening to the crows
serenade
whisper buttery poetry
to my awaiting ear
melt with me into the
kernel of sweet
surrender...
sharing with
open link night
Thank you for visiting
author's note: I was looking
at the corn moon the other
night and poetry evolved
Oh that penultimate stanza especially rocks! Love that crow serenade; I'm swooning as well. A-maze_ing work.
ReplyDeleteHi Ron, thanks for the comment and reading. Swoon away...
DeleteButtery poetry, inspired by the moon. I love this.
ReplyDeleteThank you Grace for your visit and hosting.
DeleteThis is incredibly beautiful!❤️ I love; "swooning in the maze of September's desire listening to the crows serenade."
ReplyDeleteThank you Sanaa
DeleteVery well done~ Love this: whisper buttery poetry
ReplyDeleteto my awaiting ear
melt with me into the
kernel of sweet
surrender...
Dwight, I love it when a poem evolves from just looking at the moon.
DeletePoetry definitely did evolve. This is wonderful - the buttery poetry, the corn moon.
ReplyDeletePoetry happens even under that corn moon. Thanks Sherry
DeleteTruedessa, what is it about the moon that brings out the urge to howl at her? I love the corn theme, it works so well!
ReplyDeleteIt must be the moon playing with our inner tides.
DeleteI enjoyed your gently erotic extended corn metaphor, Truedessa, the ‘silky fibers’ and the ‘maze of September's desire’. It was the ‘butter poetry’ and the ‘kernel of sweet surrender’ that melted me!
ReplyDeleteThank you Kim.
DeleteWell done! Now I want corn.
ReplyDeleteHi Alex, make sure it is buttery.
DeleteWhat a luscious extended metaphor the Corn Moon has inspired in you. Wonderfully done!
ReplyDeleteThank you Mary, inspiration found unexpectedly.
DeleteFabulous! Nothing like a good Corn Moon Swoon! Love your sensory touch and sensual awakenings.
ReplyDeleteMother Wintermoon, thank you for visiting.
DeleteI agree with the other commenters-- that second stanza could almost stand alone, and then melting in sweet surrender at the end -- Bravo!
ReplyDeleteSince when do the crows sing serenades? :) Nightingales yes, but crows are screeching like bandits. That being said, the moon was very strange this week in this part of the world, pink, then yellow and orange. Something is happening up in the sky.
ReplyDeleteI love how the moon can give you the poetry like this. We need that when darkness is coming.
ReplyDelete