A month ago, on January 31, I posted a poem called The Moon Diver which I had been trying to complete since last summer. Well, fellow poet, fellow blogger, and friend, Patrick Gillespie of Poemshape fame (https://poemshape.wordpress.com/) thought the poem was a dandy and felt it was very much worth revising. I agreed, and he helped me work on it. So, for the very first time ever, here is a poem that a very careful critic, who just happens to be my friend, helped me revise. I have never really had anyone work with me on words, verses, and rhythms until this poem. It is a strange, but enlightening experience. Please enjoy the revised version of The Moon Diver.
The Moon Diver*
Have you heard of the Moon Diver,
A foul mischievous imp,
Who puts lines on ladies’ faces
And gives healthy fellows a limp?
He alters us while we’re sleeping
Or in a restless swoon
By diving straight into our dreams
From his perch on the swaying moon.
So, when the lamp glows overhead
Fasten the windows tight
And watch the sky with careful eye
For this naughty fairy in flight.
Don’t look for him too near the orb,
You cannot see him there,
For his skin is polished onyx,
And dragonfly wings form his hair.
It’s no use to try and find him,
He's slinking from the sun
He's somewhere prying eyes can’t see
But he's by no means done.
He spends his days in ponds and streams,
Inky watery nooks,
Performing nasty turtle tricks,
Tangling lines and straightening hooks,
Or sliding through unkempt gardens
Causing dried leaves to shake
And hiss as if they’re being stirred
By scales of a venomous snake.
At dusk, he slinks up ivied trees,
As fledglings flee their nest.
He sits among the topmost limbs
And eagerly watches the west.
When no small sliver of the sun
Splinters the western skies,
He leaps up past the canine star,
Pulls its ears and punches its eyes.
He twists the ring in the bull’s nose,
Blaming poor Orion,
And plucks the hairs of both the bears,
Riding the back of the lion.
He hides behind the astral sphere,
Loitering through the stars,
Stealing the seed god’s seven rings
And plucking the cherry of Mars.
Then, he squats with trembling haunches
On a pale lunar beam
Like an incubus sits on its victim
Waiting for a crippling dream.
When he hears unsettled moaning,
Moon Diver stands to leap
And falls dart-like through the black night
Into your delusional sleep.
*I cannot help but note that the original posting of this poem had 47 individual views. That means enough of my regular readers shared this poem that they brought in an extra dozen or so readers. Thank you so much. I humbly encourage you to share my blog and these posts with anyone you feel might be interested. Thank you, thank you, thank you!
While Patrick was helping me with this poem and others, I asked him if he minded if I posted a poem or two of his. He said he did not mind. He did ask, though, that I follow his habit of placing the title of his poem after the poem. That is not hard to do. Please enjoy Patrick's poem.
The morning glories may mistake
Whatever wall they try
And in their slow mistaking take
A window for the sky.
They press against the glass and reason
They touch the celestial sphere
(Above Earth’s evanescent season
Divinity is near).
How strange and unaccountable
Is heaven to these flowers—
My indoors unpronounceable
And foreign to their hours.
As if I were a deity
They watch me come and go,
Their guileless spontaneity
More God-like than they know.
These flowers searching the sidereal
For something like perfection
Might almost witness the ethereal
Yet miss their own reflection.
Hymn #9 - The Morning Glories
If you enjoy Patrick's poem, you can find many more poems and all kinds of other stuff at his blog, which I posted above, but Heck! I have it handy, so here it is again.
Please remember that the whole point of poetry is not to try and figure out what secrets are hidden within it. One should read poetry for the entertainment and enjoyment. A good poem can stand multiple readings without falling apart and becoming boring, but it is not a jigsaw puzzle to be pieced together. Poems are more like paintings. The whole thing can be beautiful, but, in a great painting, the details may contain surprises, sometimes, subtle surprises. It is the same with good poems. Please read these poems again and again, preferably aloud. Find the pleasure in hearing them first and then in what they have to say. Most of all, as always, ENJOY!
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