Poem: Pewter Moonlight
February 18, 2008 by danielabdalhayymoore
PEWTER MOONLIGHT
Old men are writing poems
by pewter moonlight
They live in different parts of the world
but their pen unites them
Their blood is as thin as rivers
after winter floods and the
springtime dries them
Each of them writes his ode
to pewter moonlight
Their eyes ache from peering deep
into lamplight
They’ve seen the comings and goings
and sheep led to slaughter
The night no longer holds any
terrors for them
One ray of moonlight from the window
is enough to save them
The Holocaust is over and slavery and
cries of despair
New chains are on their way
with clanking regularity
Humankind often finds its better angels
disposable
Old men are writing poems
on rickety tables
Chrysanthemums wither in the
vases before they are done
Everything in reality takes place
by pewter moonlight
The sound of their pen scratch
is enough to heal the world
2/15/2008 (from The Fire Eater’s Lunchbreak /
Tall Tales in Short Takes, in progress)
You words gave me visions of ancient scribes, the keepers of history…writing…I love this the most of what i’ve read so far..tis a beautiful gift, to give words to others…ta Daniel
The sound of their pen scratch
is enough to heal the world
Brother, that line alone is enough to hang your hat on. We are all invited to the sacred tea stall,what we partake is then our own,no?
good stuff
tis a ray of moonlight for the soul, your poetry. it is sometimes over my head and i don’t fully understand, and yet i can feel it almost touch it, and it somehow just makes sense.
so far I have loved all you have posted from the Fire Eater’s Lunch Break, seems to have a healing effect for me.
~Deborah
Assalamu alaikoum,
This is my first visit to your site and I am very moved by this poem. It makes me think of a “nostalgia” that I felt in my pre-Muslim days, that I now recognise as the traces of faith.