Moon Poem: In this post, we list the best moon poem. Poets have used the moon as a symbol for a wide range of things, from unrequited love to the realization that old age is coming to
motherhood to, um, a farmer’s red face. Read on to find out which moon poems we think are the best.
the plants I’m by myself with my pot of wine and drinking by myself. my cup I spoke to the moon. On the one hand, the moon, and on the other, the dawn:
Dawn is my brother and the moon is my sister. On my left was the moon, and on my right was the sun rising.
Good morning, my brother, and good night, my sister. Put my wine bottle among the flowers. to drink without anyone else.
I hold up my cup to get the moon’s attention. flowers, a bottle of wine, I pour alone because I have no one to talk to.
So I invite the Moon by raising my cup, Then look at my shadow, making us three.
Sun And Moon Poem Love
As the Sun’s rays left the garden and the moon’s soft beams fell on the flowers, I sat under the trees and thought about how the atmosphere worked.
I looked through the branches at the scattered stars, which sparkled like silver chips on a blue carpet, and I could hear the rivulet singing its way quickly into the valley.
The moon entered the forge. in her busyness, nard was blooming. It will be bright, If you didn’t smile, But that won’t be the case anymore,
If the moon shines for me, From where I hung out in March when things were slow,
one night, by choice, outside the sugar house, I spoke carefully when I called the fireman.
And told him to stop cooking and light the arch I’ve had some strange fits of rage:
And I’ll be brave enough to say, But only in the ear of the lover, What used to happen to me.
The owl and the cat went to sea. In a beautiful pea green boat, They took a lot of money and some honey.
New Moon Poem
It was wrapped in a five-pound bill. The low orange moon in the sky A poem should be real and say nothing. As a spherical fruit
Even though she was raised like the moon In the murderous nest of beauty, She walked and blushed for a while.
And on my way there was Gay Fairyland was never found. (Even though we still knelt by bluebells every night)
And missed the tide of Lethe, but we’ll be back soon. For that new bridge that only crosses half of the old Styx;
I thought we were in love. No, it was just for fun. When we stood there, were we closer than anyone else? So, the harvest moon is
The Cat And The Moon Poem
Was shining and strange in your hair, and it made me turn around.’
Did that make you? Yes. Just the moon and the light it made.”
So we’ll go no more a-roving That late at night, Even if the heart is still full of love, And the moon would still shine.
At dusk, the moon came out in the sky; Then it came down to look at me on Earth. A field full of cotton—like the moon had flowered.
slid into my mom’s room that In late June, she tapped her big belly, called me out, leaving me confused and without a smile. My dad used to smile and ask, “Is this the moon?”
What do you have in your bag, fair? White moon, bright moon, pearls in the air,
Your bobbins and fabrics will be free to spin, Fleet moon, sweet moon, where are you going?
Mon in the moon stood and walked; he carried his load on his back. It’s a big surprise that he hasn’t done anything yet, because he works hard and makes money.
When the forst frosts a lot, he sleeps. The thorns were known, and he gave his hat to Tereth.
Moon Poems Short
Then, even in friendship, tell me, O moon, is constant love just a lack of intelligence?
Are women there as proud of their looks as they are here?
Do they love being loved more than being loved? If so, why do those who love love those who love them? Do they call being good there being ungrateful?
You silver god of the secret night, guide my feet through the dark woods. You are the Lover’s guardian and the Muse’s helper, and you are aware of the joys that are unknown to you.
I walk alone by your pale beams; I tell you my tender grief. You make the quiet grove shine with your sweetness. You are my friend, my goddess, and my guide.
Are you tired of climbing up to heaven and looking at the earth, wandering alone among the stars that all came from different places, and always changing, like a sad eye that can’t find anything worth looking at?
A couple of nights ago, the Moon was just a gold chin. Now, she shows her perfect face to the world below.
Her hair on her forehead is the finest blonde, and her cheek is made of beryl.
She was looking at the summer dew. The most like it I’ve ever seen—
To The Moon Poem
Her amber lips never part, but what must be the smile she could give to a friend?
Were such Her Silver Will …
The moon had shrunk and become as thin as a fingernail held up to a candle.
Or the cutting of paradise’s fruit, which is beautiful when it’s ripe but dull when it’s not.
Stepped off the stool, stepped back from the barrow, and moved away from the dark Maenefa mountain. A point still grabbed him, and a snag still bit him and tangled him up. He wasn’t free yet.
The “paring of paradisiacal fruit” is another way to describe the crescent moon. It reminds us of the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge in the Garden of Eden, which is usually thought of as an apple but is sometimes called a banana. This gives the poem a vivid and unusual way to describe how the moon looks.
A little chilly on an autumn night, I went outside and saw the red moon leaning over a fence. Like a farmer with a red face…
This short poem is almost deliberately “unpoetical” in the way it describes the moon. It gives us a new way to look at the moon.
The image of “dark listening to dark” at the end of the poem is especially striking. write about the scene.