August

Champagne-gold moonlight.
Queen Anne's lace.
We pass our time together in this
messy messianic maze,
waiting for silk-lined evermores
and folklores of lovers entwined.
You sweep me off my feet
as if the years that led to this
were empty and meaningless,
and the last few weeks
were the only days I'd lived.
Our cancer suns in sync,
stars crossed,
we ponder summer odes among
clovers and grassy plots
in overgrown parking lots.
August is the sweetest month now,
salt tides and erratic rains,
my hopes
flying high on paper planes.
It's strange
how misfortune always befalls
happy couples.
Some old witchy curse
on you and I.
August wanes
and it's time for goodbyes.
There'll be talks of
next month or next life,
empty promises and lazy lies.
They say a happy tale
demands a happy ending.
But I hear the wait is near maddening!

Author's Note

I haven't written much or visited this site for a while. I wrote this as a scribble while getting my hair done at the salon but i grew somewhat fond of this little poem. Suggestions are always welcome! I'm sorry if i haven't reviewed anyone back in the past months and i would try my best to catch up. Thanks for sticking by!

Reviews

[Fabian G. Franklin]

This is fantastically beautiful and real. it carries the reader along like a swift flowing stream and delivers them to a hopeful happy ending. Typo: in line seven you have the past tense "swoop" where I think you meant the present/future tense, "sweep". That's the only constructive advice I can offer on this beauty. Thank you for sharing. F.

[Moonie]

Thank you so much for pointing out the typo! Appreciate it a lot!

[Arundass TP]

This is beautifully sketched poem. Excellent words I see. Keep it up. Enjoyed reading

[Patricia Wedel]

dear Moonie... My oldest granddaughter will be seventeen on July 27... having been born in 2007. Of course, I have lived a full life through all the Seasons... and now in the Autumn of my Life... I seem to enjoy the pleasure and scent of aging Dahlias sleeping in the Meadow with many other fading Beauties. Many of us will live a few more Years and rejoice when Spring and Summer will bring the Beauties once again to embrace the Awakening. The Earth is our Treasure and Heaven is our Reward. By the way... Champagne Gold Moonlight is what keeps us in Dreams of falling Stars where Angels weep and give us prayers when we take Flight. softly, Pat

[Stella Armour]

I do believe that those born under the Cancer sign are natural lovers with unexplained abilities to know things, so maybe it was this that prompted the thoughts as we approach August and my own sign of Leo ...

[Pete]

relationships sure can feel this way. a very smooth read, sharply telling in its bold descriptions. much enjoyed the imagery and word choices. excellent work.

[Moonie]

Thank you so much for the review!!

[Relic]

Relationships are always susceptible to shaky ground and surprises around the corner. I think some people know they'll be no future meetings or get togethers but can't say it. They just infer it with confidence.

Your scribbles mean a lot, whether you're aware of it or not.

Well done, Moonie. :)

[Moonie]

Haha, my scribbles desperately need editing but I'm too lazy lol. Thank you for the review! :))

[Matthew Kult]

Sensitively mad, but aren't we all from time to time. Lovely read.

With love,

Matthew

[jacob erin-cilberto]

Reminds me of an old song: "Will I see you in September?"
Happy Ever After is often a pipe dream.
My folks were married 70 years...and I still ponder how that could happen.

With those Witchy curses and all.
j.

[emmajoygreen]

Perhaps the cores of your fine poem :

'Our cancer suns in sync,
stars crossed,
we ponder summer odes among
clovers and grassy plots
in overgrown parking lots.
August is the sweetest month now,
salt tides and erratic rains,
my hopes
flying high on paper planes.'

Compact: a different mood from its wrap around phrases. Will return to read again, perhaps to see even more of your intention, Moonie,

[Sami Khalil]

You must be proud of your hair and poetry; I guess both are inspirational. Somehow romantic poem. Not your best, but it is enjoyable.