THE MOON
Just hung there, above the horizon,
watching space rocks fly by,
donning a wry smile
against the darkened backdrop
in anemic white garb,
resembling a freshly cut fingernail
found on the black desktop.
I tossed my cap
towards the lower point of the crescent
beyond reach of the trees,
landing it gracefully,
like a frisbee on a finger,
contemplating,
how did the cow jumped over
this slightly cocked glow
without bumping its head
on the unseen portion?
The iridescent float winked
to share such sport,
but startled I turned
to watch the cat
play the fiddle
till the dish came home
with the spoon.
COURAGE
donning a wry smile
against the darkened backdrop
in anemic white garb,
resembling a freshly cut fingernail
found on the black desktop.
I tossed my cap
towards the lower point of the crescent
beyond reach of the trees,
landing it gracefully,
like a frisbee on a finger,
contemplating,
how did the cow jumped over
this slightly cocked glow
without bumping its head
on the unseen portion?
The iridescent float winked
to share such sport,
but startled I turned
to watch the cat
play the fiddle
till the dish came home
with the spoon.
COURAGE
As twinkling stars
and rotating planets
in florescent pencil
erase themselves
in the bright morning light,
the winter moon
abandoned by night,
hovers ashen
in the blue cube
and casts its disposition
without assisting
in the onslaught
of illumination.
ALL FOR ONE
and rotating planets
in florescent pencil
erase themselves
in the bright morning light,
the winter moon
abandoned by night,
hovers ashen
in the blue cube
and casts its disposition
without assisting
in the onslaught
of illumination.
ALL FOR ONE
Born at a specific time
in a specific place,
minute gasps of life
floating within the giant arteries
of universal flow,
the mammoth
sauntering slowly outward
envelopes us all
and thrives on the nourishment
provided by minute creatures
to sustain its existence
beyond numbers
we can barely fathom,
epochs of the continuous saga
studiously chronicled
in paper packages of cumulative scribbling
to eventually be ingested.
in a specific place,
minute gasps of life
floating within the giant arteries
of universal flow,
the mammoth
sauntering slowly outward
envelopes us all
and thrives on the nourishment
provided by minute creatures
to sustain its existence
beyond numbers
we can barely fathom,
epochs of the continuous saga
studiously chronicled
in paper packages of cumulative scribbling
to eventually be ingested.
Michael Keshigian’s ninth poetry book, Dark Edges was released September, 2014 by Flutter Press. He has been widely published in numerous national and international journals most recently including Poesy, The Chiron Review, California Quarterly, Poppy Road Review and has appeared as feature writer in over a dozen publications with 5 Pushcart Prize and 2 Best Of The Net nominations. (michaelkeshigian.com)
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