Winner of 2017 Giller Prize

Winner of 2017 Giller Prize
Michael Redhill for his novel Bellevue Square

Wednesday, March 18, 2015

The Moon by Robert Matejko



The Moon

The moon is a godess who opens her eyes at night,
as the sun,
it takes its reprieve,
and hides us from its golden hued sight.

The moon is worshipped by the totem of the owl,
as nocturnal lights come to life in the form of firelies,
and the sweet lunacy of the moon,
it falls upon us in curtains purest pearly white light.

I dance under the moon with both devils and angels,
hoping to catch moonbeams of its light upon my skin;
its waxing and waning phases,
they reflect the rising and receding tides within my soul,
as I seek to lose control of my faculties,
so that the moon may bless me with her maddening power,
that has always stirred in my artists muse within.

For you see,
the great archetypes of music and of poetry,
of art and all other humanly artistic aspirations,
they rise most magnificently under the power of the full and pearly white moon,
as lovers swoon under its lights mysterious power,
and music flows like bacchuses' wine into the fingertips of composers,
who sleep and make love to their instruments under the moons magnificent power at night.

As I dance and laugh upon the moons surface in my mind,
I imagine butterflies catching kite strings flown by swan birds,
so that those butterflies wings may kiss the face of the moon for just one moment,
as the carriage of swans makes a circuit around it,
their wings glistening with a mysterious and mystic light,
under the sheen of the moon’s pockmarked face,
which is revealed to us each and every night.

Were that the moon were something I could put in my pocket,
I would carry its light with me,
but alas,
I fear that the induced luancy of a maddened artist would seize upon me forever,
and not simply for one night;
I would grow afraid that having but a fraction of the moons light carried upon my person,
that it would make the owl totem grow covetous,
and a phalanx of owls flight would descend upon me to take away my sight,
for the sin of taking a fraction of the light that comes upon us all at night.

I shall contend myself with looking upon it,
in all its phases and propagations,
and I shall trick the universe with the parallax shift of my fingers,
as I cover the moon with my fingers and than my hand,
and I shall than uncover it and let my face be bathed in its light yet again,
so that I may receive its blessing of lunatic power,
that embowers the human mind with artistic desire,
as devils and angels dance with me in my mind,
upon the surface of the moon,
that in each midnight sky of my life I find.


2 comments:

  1. This is Robby here. Thanks for the post. It's nice to see my work featured on a local blog. I've been working on getting more involved now in the local poetry scene. I have done a lot online, but I want to see a persons face and such now when I read my poetry, etc.

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    1. Lovely poem about the moon. More poems to come.

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