april moon

all through the cooler nights of april
I wrote my songs and stories

pausing only
for moments taken
to gaze
into the pallid mystery
of a poet’s moon
that shone
sometimes a feeble glow
sometimes hardly present
yet at other times
a golden balloon
abreast of the horizon
at first rising

I wrote down almost half
of everything I ever knew

penned to illuminate
and clarify
to obfuscate
and to destroy
I wielded this pen of mine
to make the necessary
private admissions
reveal myself in unguarded words
and personalised glittering symbols
the shaman of slippery words
with his onion staff

I sang and sang
while the moon went past

night after night
as it cooled
I sang slower
sang quietly
kept voice barely within the sound
until at last
it was hardly more
than a whisper
that could have been the breeze
I felt
ruffling my coat
worn long as talisman
and to kiss this
the moon of poets farewell
for she is gone
and I
am almost
done in
by the cool of april nights

the songs
and all the stories
are etched deep into the paper
no longer secret words
nor enigmatic
merely a kind of historical accounting
for the poet moon that was

I abhor
the coming silence

© Frank Prem 2003, 2016

April Moon appeared in The Australia Times Poetry Magazine Vol. 4 No. 4, 2016


9 thoughts on “april moon

  1. the shaman of slippery words
    with his onion staff

    I can imagine how this must resonate when spoken | read aloud to an audience …. and wonder, what is the reception?

    I noted the above lines, because synchronicity? coincidence? I’m not sure – but once again, this is the second time in as many days, when I read something, and it just happens to be from you, where something catches my attention – deeply – because it resonates with something I wrote within these past few months – and it serves as a reminder or a re-introduction to some revelation, in this case, the onion, and being myself …… so like most writing, that has yet to see a public light of day, written and shelved and in some ways forgotten, but still lingering …..

    Liked by 1 person

      • yes, I sure it is …. even if it means being slightly open and vulnerable …. but I suspect the fears are doused when people start visibly reacting ….. and well, are words ever truly gone? Sometimes, being how somehow it flows and you aren’t in the position to scribble or scratch it down …. such is the muse 😉

        Liked by 1 person

      • It’s the feeling that they may be gone that leaves me bereft. In the absence of self belief every phrase is just a stumble. Like a hand shaking when you’re trying to get the whisky to your mouth so you can drink to fo

        Liked by 1 person

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