Poem: 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

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)

About danielabdalhayymoore

Poet, artist, collagist, publisher, hoping to save a little bit of the world through ecstatic utterance... ordered in balanced lines and unpremeditated images...
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5 Responses to Poem: Pewter Moonlight

  1. abbey says:

    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


  2. Patrick says:

    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


  3. Deborah says:

    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.


  4. Saha says:

    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.


  5. Uriah Hamilton says:

    Simply beautiful. Gentle light to redeem the world.


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