on Full Moons

Like someone's iphone screen on bright 

in the cinema

This Easter's full moon lit up the sky

I got to see it from the bush

Where the tent lights didn't out shine the stars

And the moon was a milky white hunk 

of lunar bliss

This March was the custodian of two moons

The second one, being a Blue 

The last blue moon until 2020

Now that's worth writing a song about,

Oh wait, someone already has

So here is my ode

It's not a sonnet, a limerick, or a haiku

There's no form, no rhyme or scheme

Under the Blue Moon I saw a spoken word artist

A true poet spill her soul 

and was filled with light inspired

Under the Blue Moon all kinds of magic 

bubbled and boiled and brewed

The morning came and the moon was still there

It's dust sprinkled over those still awake

A sun drenched haze of silver and gold

They coughed and sneezed

It could have been from real dust

Or talking and singing all night

Of their joys and woes of full moons ago

Under the Blue moon

It's poetic enough to swoon

and my words don't do it justice

This ode isn't to outshine it's memory

Though it might vaguely etch it in my mind

It's the most blog worthy thing that comes to my fingertips

The image of it 

Still glimmering in my eyes

I viewed it from a place where people were howling at it

where we danced by the fire

to the drum

A story to tell the Grandkids I guess

In many Blue Moons to come

Jj