This is the first poem I wrote (unless you count first grade!), in tenth grade for an English assignment. Surprisingly, it won a small place in an anthology book that I submitted it to.
The night that often lies in dark,
alight by not a single star.
Instead a warning, crescent doom,
shines down on the water in a silvery spoon.
The gentle ripples it causes to stir,
a glistening spark, a death-like lure.
Once silent and forgotten this frozen faced stare,
it comes yet again to bring all that it bears.
The radiant shimmer that dances as rain,
brings down soft spoken tones that add to the pain.
Of daybreaks and sunsets that long have been read,
the days are foreclosing, its time for an end.
Glorious, mystic, evil and true,
this all around beauty is that of the moon.
Copyright KJ Heier, 2011.
I like to write. You, obviously, like to read. Read what I write.
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