Mysterious Moon | Poem by James V. Nicosia

Mysterious  Moon Poem
Mysterious Moon Poem

Mysterious Moon

Sometimes you catch me dreaming
And I think
Heaven had a hand in you–
Not just some far off star exploding long ago.

And who’s at your switch
You mysterious glow.
Is there a keeper for you–
Washing your face–blowing your nose.

Sometimes I catch you hiding–
Hiding behind that smokey mist
And I think
You must have a secret.
Do you sit in that eerie sky just waiting–
Waiting for that day for it to be told.

Sometimes we catch each other smiling–
Smiling in the night–
Just smiling
And I think
We both knew each other somewhere
Somewhere before–
Eons and eons ago.

For other poems by James V. Nicosia

Will You Try With Me?

peace poets
Motherbird.com never was about a person. It’s not about one now. The person who founded it, Summer Breeze stayed in the background like all of the great internet publishers. Motherbird.com is about seeking world peace and personal peace through poetry, children, mothers, sunshine and flowers. It is about an idea that poetry can be sentient and that poets suffer in so few words because they care so very much.
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World Peace Poems A Search for Peace

peace poets

Our search for Peace will update itself and change much like the real search for personal peace and world peace.

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TWILIGHT CITY, A Song by Avril Tween and Norman Tween

hollywood the twilight city

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TWILIGHT CITY
In her eyes, she sees the diamond twilight city,
where the Harlows and the Garbos never die.
In her heart, she knows the star she longs to follow,
to the sign up in the Hills where angels fly.
And the legendary Metro Goldwyn Mayer
is her freeway to the sky.
And every dime-a-dance girl with a suitcase on the sidewalk
knows her story has already been told.
And the bus back home to Lonelyville,
it don’t leave here anymore.
And every Norma Jean who bought a ticket to the dream,
saw the twilight city lose its tinsel glow.
While the bus back home to Lonelyville,
it don’t leave here anymore.
No the bus back home to Lonelyville,
it don’t leave here anymore.

Werds & Muzik N.Tween 2015.

Healthcare – A Poem

Healthcare
By Ron Olsen

When people profit from
Other people’s illness

Disease becomes more profitable
Than wellness

It doesn’t take a brain surgeon
To understand

Sickness perpetuates wealth
Free healthcare results in health

Try and move forward
Rather than back

And they’ll nail you with fear
And rail you with lies

While they pay off the doctors
And give the medical schools millions

To perpetuate
The myth of caring

 

© 2015 Ron Olsen / all rights reserved

 

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Ron Olsen is a retired journalist who lives in Los Angeles.   He writes essays and an occasional poem.   More of his work can be found here.

Tiddly Doo Poem

Tiddly do bugaboo

what’s up with you?

Squeeky wheel please add some grease

before the crickets run off

with the wagon

Tiddly do bugaboo

what’s up with you?

Life wasn’t supposed to be like this

Mr Whiskers

I was supposed to dream and find out stuff

figure it all out

and all I am left with

is beauty, bugaboo

beauty lying there all along

in the way the cat sleeps

all day with no plans at all

and shows up at the same each night beside me

beauty bugaboo in the light

in the shadows and in Monet’s snow.

There is nothing in wisdom

except for the knowledge of your own ignorance

my little bug-a-boo-kins

We thought we could stop the gun with a flower

 

Hotdish – A Poem Of The Great North Woods

Hotdish
by Ron Olsen

God bless hotdish
It kept us alive
But first we’d pray
Our Sunday morning ritual
Praying
To get through it all
For just one more day

We meant it too
We were so unworthy
The Vicar told us
And vile
And ungrateful
Not worthy to “gather up the crumbs” under His table
Which we really didn’t need
Truth be told

We had hotdish

Plenty of it
Stronger than theology
And tasty too

Tuna
Noodles
And sour cream
Pimentos
Olives
A splash of milk with a can of soup
Mix it together
Crush some potato chips on top
A sprinkle of paprika for an exotic edge
Throw it in the oven
And there you go

Salt and pepper
To give it taste
Bracing your blood to stand up
To the demon weather
Wailing outside
Begging you to come out
So it could try and kill you one more time

But we had hotdish
Made by the Ladies of the Ladies Aid
Who knew what they were doing

Big, strong German and Scandinavian farm ladies
With secrets they brought over from the old country
Arriving with only their bibles, babies and the family jewels
Bending over stoves
In the Episcopal Guild Hall basement
The heat flooding out to envelop the entire room

Making heavy, hearty, homemade hotdish in
Big Pyrex glass baking dishes
Doing their part
To keep the kids and the cardiologists going

And just as you were about to burst with joy
Unworthy as you were
There was even more to come
Through the passthrough and out into the main hall

Giant bowls of green and yellow Jell-O, wiggling and jiggling with life
Bits of cottage cheese suspended inside
And green olives
Molded in the shape of pinwheels
Or Christmas trees
Or peculiar giant half-moon shaped fish with big scales

And the old men would watch
Mumbling under their breath
“Damn kids don’t know how good they’ve got it…”

So we prayed to be forgiven
And were mindful of the need to be always alert
If the weather didn’t kill you some crazy old man might
Or you could fall through the ice and drown a horrible death in the lake

And all the while the wind screamed
Threatening to take your soul

And it might have
Except for the hotdish

Neither the north wind
Nor the crazy old men dared cross
The ladies of the Ladies Aid
Who knew exactly what they were doing

                     §


© Ron Olsen – all rights reserved

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Ron Olsen is a retired journalist who lives in Los Angeles, where he writes essays and an occasional poem.  You can find more of his poetry on his website, workingreporter.com.

 

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