How Dire the Moonlight Shining

Posted

Poetry, Writing

July 9, 2003

 

How Dire the Moonlight Shining
How dire the moonlight shining
on windowpanes and rooftop shingles
the plain things overlooked
in day to daylight brightness.
How pale and weak this
thing that hangs and stains
the night in loneliness,
sad blue night
clouds drifting,
stars obscured
but hoping,
holding breath
pining to catch your eye.
How dire the hunter’s moon
full of wasted allure
the folk all shun the cold
and ignore your brilliance
and the significance
of the winter’s
isolation.

 

© 2003 Anthony Sell
Originally published in “The Best Poems and Poets of 2003” (Page 1). Howard Ely, Editor. MD: Watermark Press, The International Library of Poetry

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Insufficient

Posted

Poetry, Writing

July 9, 2002

 

Insufficient

I suppose it would not have been much to simply sit there and listen.
But it began again, that same argument that we’ve been having
for the past ten years.
“Listening never hurt anybody,” my Mother would say to me
as I’d ball my fists and cover my eyes.
All the same, I had neither the patience nor the time to learn about
how wrong I was again.

So I left.
And in doing so, lost another opportunity.

When they found you the next morning,
it had happened sometime in the night.
“A look of calm,” Mother said.
They called me at work, some hours later, and a meeting I left
went on without me. When the tears finally came, weeks had gone by.
Days of confusion, moments of realization, and hours of memories
that all had to be sorted and properly disposed of,
like the surgical gloves I wore when I last took your hand.

 

© 2002 Anthony Sell
Originally published in “Clouds Across the Stars, Letters from the Soul Series” (Page 109). Noah Bevins, Editor. MD: Watermark Press, The International Library of Poetry

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