Buried moon

Buried moon, buried moon
Who to talk about at noon
When dreams are plundered by light
And powdered in gold and charcoal dust.

Crescent fairies are sad in the rouse
and at falter to surmise
the scanty slumbering traces
that led stupors into trenches.

The owners of the light
Do not know its might
and the pleasure of the sun
to astound and burn above…

Buried moon, buried moon
I want you soon…

As to play my feral dreams
around the all surviving tunes!

 

(Reposting an old poem)

Art – Buried moon by Edmund Dulac.

About Iulia Halatz

She is primarily a teacher of English. Also her mind is lured by goodies like finance, economics, interest rates, the stock market, as she has a hankering for how the money is made. Nevertheless she is a dreamer on a cloud...As dreams cost nothing... On ordinary days she is a word-weaver for everything and everything that breathes. On the best of days she just follows the seasons by means of bike, skis, or roller-skates. She is grateful to all colors of the world and to people who read, smile and drop a line here, or on her email. Contributing author for 5 Medium.com publications, Spillwords.com and Anthology Volume I: Writings from the Sudden Denouement Literary Collective.

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Tagged with: iron poem, Iron poetry, Iulia Halatz, my poems, poem, poetry, reposting an old poem
Posted in Iron Tales, My poems, Wordsmith