Poets on the moon

Two poets met on the moon. They stood on the acute rim of ink-black shadow and paper-white silence. There was no birdsong, no river wild, just the ghosts of old dogs willed to the object of their howling. They looked up at the blue Earth, where they saw themselves not as far apart as they had imagined. Without shifting their gaze, they clasped hand, fingers interlaced, heads empty as craters, hearts full of stardust, thirsty, beneath a bright, watery planet.


About Ray Sharp

Father, poet, triathlete, local public health planner
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7 Responses to Poets on the moon

  1. joeroe12 says:

    i love this!

  2. brian miller says:

    smiles…i would love to see the earth from space…pretty cool to think of the poets out there away from all that would inspire other than that wet blue orb in the sky

  3. Wonderful short narrative poem. It sort of feels to me like we meet and share new perspective here on the cyber-moon. Enjoyed!

  4. Ursa Bowers says:

    Lovely descriptions. Reading this poem reminded me of laying on a roof, in the quietest hour of the night, and watching the stars…

  5. RL King says:

    Oh I do love this…so serenly romantic.

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