deepundergroundpoetry.com
After Midnight
The power of the moon was low;
She lurked amid the mist,
Exactly where her golden glow
Was by the treetops kissed.
And Venus sank into the sea
Before the moon arose,
As if to say, enticingly,
She loves how Neptune flows!
But she'll be up tomorrow night
To blow a twilight kiss
Of love for fading solar light,
And mesonoxian bliss...
Devoted to each lunar beam
That dances on the dew
Seducing one more lover's dream
Where phantasies come true!
She lurked amid the mist,
Exactly where her golden glow
Was by the treetops kissed.
And Venus sank into the sea
Before the moon arose,
As if to say, enticingly,
She loves how Neptune flows!
But she'll be up tomorrow night
To blow a twilight kiss
Of love for fading solar light,
And mesonoxian bliss...
Devoted to each lunar beam
That dances on the dew
Seducing one more lover's dream
Where phantasies come true!
Published 10th May 2023
Author's Note
Last night's observation
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 3
reading list entries 2
comments 6
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Commenting Preference:
The author encourages honest critique.
10th May 2023 11:10am
10th May 2023 9:22pm
I've worked graveyard for years mostly so I could time my nights off to watch the moon,
Whenever it was clear enough.
Whenever it was clear enough.
10th May 2023 4:54pm
Ok. Lots of good stuff tot all about. But? What I got stuck on? Because I love the surprise tidbits in shit…
The use of phantasies. Such a good choice.
I don’t know anyone who can blend contemporary and archaic language like you. It’s easy to sound douchey and forced when mixing linguistic eras in poetry, but you always do it with such panache.
Also?! The visual allusion to a phantom in moonlight is sort of set into mind with the use.
The rest was flawless. As usual.
10th May 2023 10:22pm
Oh how right you are about the common commixture of contemporary and archaic English, and I think the trouble is mostly due to a lack of familiarity with the archaic, which is that phantasy I refuse to give up on because I think there will always be something worthwhile to extract from there and recycle into our new world of endlessly burning industrial train wreckage. Beauty ought not be only for the educated rich.
I suppose it doesn't help with my wife and I being Masterpiece Theater junkies.
But if an old building can be restored and recycled due to some lingering original elegance in its design, then why can't I try the same with the less hateful and oppressive bits and pieces of elderly Anglo phonetics?
Tragically, that sort of so-called "Classical" poetry is often a magnet for white ethno-nationalism and other hate and nostalgia based conservative orthodoxies of the undisciplined mind, but I mean to bend my efforts toward something more inclusive to humanity at large, and specifically exclusive to the fuddy duddy preferences of the Budweiser deplorables.
Oh how I'd love to see pride flags on a Marlboro box!
Elegance must be beaten, like a sword, back into the ploughshares that they ought to always have been, and I mean to do that with the help of Shakespeare's ghost, and never with the ghost of the dunce King James. The path to egalitarian literary glory is found when we breed the low brow with the high. Therefore...
Down with the crown!
I suppose it doesn't help with my wife and I being Masterpiece Theater junkies.
But if an old building can be restored and recycled due to some lingering original elegance in its design, then why can't I try the same with the less hateful and oppressive bits and pieces of elderly Anglo phonetics?
Tragically, that sort of so-called "Classical" poetry is often a magnet for white ethno-nationalism and other hate and nostalgia based conservative orthodoxies of the undisciplined mind, but I mean to bend my efforts toward something more inclusive to humanity at large, and specifically exclusive to the fuddy duddy preferences of the Budweiser deplorables.
Oh how I'd love to see pride flags on a Marlboro box!
Elegance must be beaten, like a sword, back into the ploughshares that they ought to always have been, and I mean to do that with the help of Shakespeare's ghost, and never with the ghost of the dunce King James. The path to egalitarian literary glory is found when we breed the low brow with the high. Therefore...
Down with the crown!
11th May 2023 2:08am
That was the sexiest thing I've ever read -- not hitting on you, just stating facts.
I want to throw something! And drink a beer! And belch loudly! And yell YAWP!
Well said, though. Really.
Well my mojo has lost its luster anyway, but I blame the years and not the matrimony.
Besides, we both know you can do better.
But I really do appreciate that you would be a dream date in anyone's pub, what with the belching and all, and I suspect that you will be a powerful literary force in any future that mankind will allow itself. Although at this point, I am inclined to think that the future of mankind would be better guaranteed in the alluring hands of a lady. (insert hand job phantasies here).
Ya know..."phantasy"...really is better with the "ph" spelling.
And now...I lapse back into dreamtime!
Many thanks to you...and...you...be good to you!
Besides, we both know you can do better.
But I really do appreciate that you would be a dream date in anyone's pub, what with the belching and all, and I suspect that you will be a powerful literary force in any future that mankind will allow itself. Although at this point, I am inclined to think that the future of mankind would be better guaranteed in the alluring hands of a lady. (insert hand job phantasies here).
Ya know..."phantasy"...really is better with the "ph" spelling.
And now...I lapse back into dreamtime!
Many thanks to you...and...you...be good to you!
