From the author:

From the Author:

I will not introduce myself.
I will not ask "How do?"
I will not wave, I will not bow,
Or shake a hand with you.

For I am not polite, my friend;
I have no social grace.
Like you, I have no manners,
And I never learned my place.

Instead I'll write a poem
And I'll put myself in verse,
And if you like the sound of me,
Well, THEN we might converse.

So read a line or two of me,
Or don't, if it's a chore,
But since you've read fifteen of me
I bet you'll read one more.

Click here to contact the author
(...or don't...he doesn't really trust emails from children. They can be sticky).

Friday, 17 June 2011

Come All, The Moon

Come all, come all 
and hold my feet—
I’m falling
to the moon.

It’s calling, calling
with the fleeting
of the loon.

I’m falling, falling
up the sky
the bright balloon,

where tall and walled,
a city lies
amid moon-dusty dunes,

and all its halls
are pearly white
and filled
with silver rooms,

and all, oh all
the moonswept nights
are endlessly
in June.

Come all, the call’s
enthralling me—
I’m falling
to the moon.

No comments:

Post a Comment