Treasure Island

Susan Lacovara

(1963 / New York)

The Breath Of The Moon


There was nothing to hear...
But the breath of the moon,
Exhaling and erasing any and all burdens
I had decidedly hurried
To tuck into drawers
Out of sight....out of mind...
Tonight....thoughts unleashed
Free to wander
Where the boats slept in their slips
And the Autumn air kissed
the drying hydrangeas
Goodnight.

There was nothing to see,
But the breath of the moon
Huffing it's imprinted halo glow
Unto the open shuttered window
Of the French door pane
That remained ajar
While I slept
With no fear, no formula...
After frolicking, in a wee hour garden
That twinkled with tinsel
Romancing this poet's pen...

There was nothing to feel
But the breath of the moon
As it slipped it's shawl
Around my shoulders
Asking me to slow dance
On the crimson carpet of
Fallen leaves...there,
In the vivacious breeze
Of a steal away, for today, moment
Where I ALMOST forgot
I was breathing...
If not for the pageantry
Of parading stars...

Nothing looked better

Nothing sounded better

Nothing felt better

The breath of the moon!

Submitted: Sunday, November 03, 2013
Edited: Monday, November 04, 2013

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Poet's Notes about The Poem

11/03/13 East Hampton Point...late, in the deliciousness of night...in the blanket of calm content and comfort. PEACE, pure and simple!

Comments about this poem (The Breath Of The Moon by Susan Lacovara )

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  • Anthony Burkett (2/1/2014 10:08:00 PM)

    Delighting all of the senses... not even the taste of the breath of the moon escapes my imagination... as, by your pen, it gently kisses me... I love this poem... (Report) Reply

  • Christopher Tyrimos (1/19/2014 9:55:00 AM)

    This is exceptional, reminds me of Ted Hughes in its style; thanks for all your kind comments. Best wishes, Christopher Tyrimos (Report) Reply

  • Khairul Ahsan (11/28/2013 12:08:00 PM)

    I like the romantic ambiance of this poem:
    'While I slept
    With no fear, no formula...
    After frolicking, in a wee hour garden
    That twinkled with tinsel
    Romancing this poet's pen...'
    It's beautiful and pure romantic.

    'Asking me to slow dance
    On the crimson carpet of
    Fallen leaves...there,
    In the vivacious breeze'
    Wonderful! (Report) Reply

  • Danny Draper (11/5/2013 2:36:00 AM)

    Romance of place and its celestial reach that lit this faint atmosphere and magic of trans season. Fineness stained pages. (Report) Reply

Read all 4 comments »

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