Moonwalk
dyaogirl
Posts: 138
I love Luna 
I thought it would be fun to explore and get to know the moon a bit more personally. The man named areas of the moon resonate human passions, longings, sufferings, and joys. I thought it would be a fun exercise to use these names as art’s inspiration. Pick a sea, an ocean, crater, or rock and immortalize it with a poem or prose. As we go for our moonwalks we can intimately experience it together.
(Image hosted by Image Shack)
For more moon information: http://www.oarval.org/MoonMapen.htm
I thought it would be fun to explore and get to know the moon a bit more personally. The man named areas of the moon resonate human passions, longings, sufferings, and joys. I thought it would be a fun exercise to use these names as art’s inspiration. Pick a sea, an ocean, crater, or rock and immortalize it with a poem or prose. As we go for our moonwalks we can intimately experience it together.
(Image hosted by Image Shack)
For more moon information: http://www.oarval.org/MoonMapen.htm
'..... Ah! A perfect illustration of the poststructuralist paradox. Does the signifier "Merlot" correspond with the 'truth' of the bottle I polished off last night, or do we hold in our thoughts a different "signified" of bottle-of-Merlot-ness? Perhaps we're dreaming of the same bottle!" -FinsburyParkCarrots
Post edited by Unknown User on
0
Comments
a barren beauty: A sea of cold
blue moon-lit gemstone;
a faceted ocean plain of diamond ice.
White monarch splendor
commands soundless serenity,
while we, attendant soldiers, moonwalkers
chattering frozen breaths, alight
on forgotten palaces of chill
where once ruled white wisp words.
We enter the deep cold gemscape
Finding ciphers on the rocks. We learn
the secrets of this jewelground. The cold is kind.
The cold is the presence of silence,
free of earthly firescreams of wars,
where earth kingdoms fall
as burning citadels.
The kingliness here is not a fallen man,
The cold sea king is silence,
a reigning barren beauty.
Eternal,
Silence is all.
We search the cold sea surface
of the moon.
We search the kingly silence
for a peace.
The ocean, moonbright, a mirror, clear,
Nightpulsing, offers up the Lake of Dreams
reflected on black currents. I draw near
toward the midnight breakers, and I hear
strange echoes where the dreampool moon begleams
The ocean, moonbright, a mirror, clear.
Strange echoes sound: Cliffstranded cries of fear
from nightlost cattle storm the void with screams
reflected on black currents. I draw near
To where the knifing surf strikes up to tear
the stranded bog bare from its fielded seams.
The ocean, moonbright, a mirror, clear
rests as a chance of sleep to end this drear
of fraught seawanderings: Thoughtbroken streams,
relected on black currents. I draw near
Toward the mirror moon, to disappear
Beneath the shifting pulse of dreamspun beams
reflected on black currents. I draw near
The ocean, moonbright, a mirror, clear.