I only just went outside to see it here ... and now inside ... your words.

"Stirring here and
where you are
it seemed to echo
near and far ..."

These are the lines that catch me first. Let me be with all of this awhile.

I loved the liquid music reference. I thought of you today in my whirlwind don't look too long we are in a hurry visit to wine country. I cold smell it in the air and wanted to bundle some up and send it to you.

HUGGGGGGGGG

I saw that "pregnant moon" this evening. Wow. This is beautiful, Scarlett. ~r

I was wondering if there was a poem for this sort of moon; and here it is

Hey whad'ya know Open Salon is working this evening! amazing, it's a weekend and everything.

anna1: I always enjoy you and your ellipsis(es). I like them too, they allow me to drift off, like this. Thanks ...

Linda: Enjoy the trip. Been to Sonoma and Napa and would love to be there right now. It's C-C-O-O-L-D in Canadian wine country. BRrrr!

Joan: Thanks. Hey, us East Coasters can't see the eclipse. I'm a- waiting for some of the West Coasters to show us their photos!

Damon: You know those moons can put a spell on a person ... I might have to listen to that song.

Wait! This moon, this very moon?
What is it about it? I gotta know cuz I been affected strangely by it.
I abhor the idea of a moon determining my fate ! a moon?
Oh tis a pretty moon, it is… saw it last nite in my lunatic lunge with legs
Home to my pad.

Eclipse? What was eclipsed?

awake
a quiet voice
began to quake
A hum, a buzz


Same here, dammit!

And, you are absolutely right in identifying it as “ancient, sacred
and profane.” Especially the, um, latter. Profanity. Sacred shit.
The two seem diametrically opposed & yet, nope, turns out they are rather
Interestingly interconnected.

There is something about the moon this weekend, Scarlett. Just saw your comment on my post. It's so cool to think we are all looking at the same moon...maybe at the same time.

When I was two, my grandma would hold me in her arms and I would say, "Look at the moom, Mama, look at the moom!" I still look at that moon today and you reminded me of how beautiful it is!

The drink and the moon, I hear them too...stay warm up there...

Trilogy: Gorgeous photo on your post from AZ. I was wondering if there in Seattle you can see the eclipse?

JME: Us elite East Coasters (ha-ha) can't see the eclipse but it's happening right now in the West. Yes, I agree sacred/profane intersect. Fodder, huh?

No view of the eclipse here either, but when I walked home tonight, the weather had turned cold, and the sky clear, and the moon so beautiful. Nice to think of OSers gazing at it too.

"A pregnant moon
the sky blue black
holds me raptured
in its lap"

I loved this stanza. The moon has always captivated me too. R

the eclipse is good news to me,
so i can tell myself there is a rational reason for my
mental unrest.

fodder!feed for livestock!
that is us elite types.

I've gotten too old for the bars, you know. My line, "I think I went to high school with your dad...." er, is not very successful.
Evocative writing, Scarlet. Do you own songs?

Good to know that this might be a reason for this agitated day.
My favorite: "The chill outside
where flesh will freeze
but stay here only
if you please"

I like the tone of pride I'd associate with you.

Perfect, Scarlett. My favorite verses:

"Through the pane
I saw it shine
image dancing
in my wine

Liquid music I
heard it drink
within the song
or so I think"

R♥

this is such a good poem.
dammit ...
i am proud to know u read my nonsense...

anyway found out:
total lunar eclipse of that moon that last nite
got me kinda frisky. good, i say.

ccdarling: "Look at the moom, Mama, look at the moom!" is so cute. I recall staring at a big full moon at a very young age too and holding tightly onto the hand of the grown-up with me. Thank you for coming by. I hope you feel like wearing red more often.

Catch: I plan to do my best with both, tonight. You too, K?

green: Yes, cold and clear tonight. Can't miss that eye staring down from the sky at us, can we? We look up together. On the west coast, they really have the spectacle. To our more primitive (?) ancestors, the eclipse was full of meaning. My question marks infers I think they were not so primitive but more in tuned than the last few centuries.

Trudge: The round moon has turned my eyes into slits. :) Got your PM. Thanks.

JME: Multiple meanings for fodder ... Btw, Did you ever read The Yearling? If so, remember Fodder-Wing?

J.P: Love the word evocative. Thanks. I doubt you went to high school with my Dad. He would have turned 90 this November but he died 30 years shy. p.s. You could say I own songs. I never sold them, except for in a live format and there was an exchange of money. Does that count?

fernsy: Uh-oh, didn't someone say pride cometh before a fall? I'll be on the look-out for banana peels!

"It brought along
a mood so strange;
the ancient, sacred
and profane."

I've been out to gaze at her lately, last night and tonight she is truly brilliant. She does sometimes have that three-fold effect as she shines down on me. Beautiful sound to this poem for beautiful Sister Moon.

i love moon-y poems, scarlett. ancient, sacred and profane is a wonderful combination. nice pic, too, girl.

beautiful.

A certain sense
of time and place
surrounded now
this silent space

Don't you love when this happens? We had a cottage on St. Joe Island in Ontario, full moons grew from the lake. Everything was cleaner, brighter, more certain.

Nice! Was outside a while ago and the sky is crystal clear and the moon is so bright it's casting shadows across the yard. It's black and silver out there and my local great horned owl will probably be coming around later to hunt the neighborhood cats.

The moon: feminine energy, feelings, instincts. Associated with the mother, protective. Secure and trusting. She holds you,

A pregnant moon
the sky blue black
holds me raptured
in its lap

I wish I had looked up to see her, after reading this gorgeous poem.

I saw the moon rise tonight in a haze of mist, like the ghost of a full moon. So close to the earth, it was still swollen from sleep.

Sorry folks, second time here trying to leave my comments. This computer was doing a scheduled self-check and rebooted. Lost them, trying again. Gah. Just watched American Werewolf in London, fitting for the full moon, listening to Warren Zevon now ...

James Emmerling: Now, I will not have you self-deprecating on my blog. Of course I read your nonsense; it's not nonsense to me. Plus, you're the only one I know that's more BD crazier than me!

Fusun: Just a simple rhyme really, glad you liked it. Must be chilly in old Montreal ... keep warm.

femme: Moon-y is good, yes! Different from the Moonies. Counting on photos of that eclipse, dear. ;)

bernadine: Thank you.

John: I've never heard of St. Joe's Island but if full moons grow out of the lake, I'll be googling soon. Nice to meet you.

Nanatehay: Crystal clear with black and silver sounds real pretty. Add a full moon casting shadows and a great horned owl and it's bordering on gothic; Mid-West Gothic. And that's just ... cool.

dianaani: Your comment is truly like poetry itself. Also "still swollen from sleep" reminds me of myself in the morning.

Margaret: Thank you. Yes she's feminine, alright. Rising tides and twisting ovaries. It's not too late honey, the moon is still out. You have a moon in Ohio, right? ;o)

Now that's a poem.

I never try a poem.
or
no poet poem do.
`
You take me back?
I see N. S. Moon.
Moon wakes me.
`
I am serious. I never could understand poem rules.I read many Romantic Periods.
That's a Moon Dot.
That's a bog period.
You write like Shelly.
You space and rhyme.
You obey Moon Awes.
I write goofy ref moon.
.
period
.
Moon photo do glow.
In bar J.P. Hart ask?
You have a Mother?
`
She hop in my P.U.?
We go view a Moon?
Moon say:`
Moon no!
No Moon!
Moonbeam!
Just go to bed alone!
`
goofy. Your not goofy.
I just banter at a Moon.
moon make folk Sillies.
`
Thanks. It's easier to Moon gaze than to blog. Nature has a sacred and profane way to entertain.
If a Moon woke me in Canada?
I'd read a book poem like You.
BC Pre-gadgets people Mused.
BC - Elders say`
Before Computer`
BG - Before Gadget`
J.P. Hart get BG Gal `
I am just thinking I best`
Delete this and hop in bed`
I am jest/just loving a Moon`
And You wrote a very nice Moon Poem.
Maybe You a reflection in a wine glass.
The ground here looks like it did snow.

Beautiful. Our eclipse here in Hawaii last night was beautiful also.
Rated.

the moon a prayer
bead, pure as the driven snow
embrace silence, dark

Well, I like this, and it beats hell out of Marquis's "the blotched red moon leers over the roofs". (Although there is more than something of the metaphysical in both.)

I could not see it for the clouds Scarlett.
But this pic and these words I see it clearly now.
One of your best dear.
simply good. TY.

Scarlett, let me know when you turn into a cat with or without a diamond necklace. ; )

Blueue: I see a comment there from you now. Didn't see it before -- maybe it was when your account was down. Thanks. Damn spambots!

Arthur James: Merci Beaucoup. Always a pleasure when you stop by. And Holy Mackerel -- not all Canadian homes smell like fish! ;)

Bo: Yes, metaphysical moons. Btw, Are you referring to Marquis de Sade? Oh ... the other Marquis.

Mission: Darn clouds! Thanks. Coming over to read your post.

Scylla: I envy you seeing the eclipse. Hawaii sounds so beautiful.

JP: The moon -- a prayer bead. I like that.

Moody, mysterious, and still. Very well crafted. Almost a holy experience. Really well conceived and written.
R+

ok, gotcha, no self deprecation, gotta face the fact
i=wonderful.i am grooving on that word
fodder
presently.
raw material for artistic creation.
Yet: a consumable often inferior item or resource
that's in demand
& usually of abundant supply.

true & not true. we are all artists of the soul,
living poems,
flesh puppets to the Narrative of our destinies,
all that good shit..

we all got it in us to write.
some of us work at it.
like u. me too i think.
we
get better as writers by writing.

close to tautology.
do u like tautologies on yer blog?

This is deftly done Scarlett, I love the turn of words and the rhyme, which normally I don't prefer, but you pull it all together.
And the moon, a favorite topic, tonight it's beautiful over the frosted fields, full. White.

"The chill outside / where flesh will freeze ..."

"Through the pane / I saw it shine..."

"It brought along / a mood so strange; / the ancient, sacred
/ and profane."

As a fellow Ontarian, these three elements from your poem were particularly potent for me. I love those crisp winter nights when the sky is clear and the moon is full (as long as I'm warm!). You really seemed to have captured those kinds of nights for me with this.

rhyme fine w/me. worry not. internal rhyming
is a spontaneous act often, a trick of speaking
which is way different from the writtenword,
ah, which gotta go thru the CENSOR.


no chick gotta say this to me;
"The chill outside
where flesh will freeze
but stay here only
if you please "

why would a man straggle out to the cold when the warm
is available? must be mentally ill, this man.

Ah Jimmy, but there's more than one way to interpret that stanza ... in fact, there's a least two.

Your on top form these days and the words bring on a magical state of mind for me.

Asleep I heard
but then awake
a quiet voice
began to quake.

I hear these voices daily!
I on the elite northeast coast,after all..little damn good it has done me.


A hum, a buzz
a murmur rapped…


Rap/ rap. Ps//ja,ja//ha some of these Negroes are plenty ok.
Up there in Canada? Gosh I dunno,,,,,,,,,,,,,

(well yeah I do. Tis a literary device I use)
As u say, these African americans
Stirring here and
where you are
it seemed to echo
near and far

I know this post not about our cousins the black folk.
But , I kidnapped it.
Sorry,was bored.
Never w/u .

Liquid music I
heard it drink
within the song
or so I think
It brought along
a mood so strange;
the ancient, sacred
and profane.



No diff no more.
Sacred’s rep is sunk.profane is on th e upswing,
And w/o
“A SACRED THINg” to live up to,it can crawl around downLow
To get uphigh.
Where we are. So far away,we. God help us aristocrats of the soul.

Asleep I heard
but then awake
a quiet voice
began to quake.

I hear these voices daily!
I on the elite northeast coast,after all..little damn good it has done me.


A hum, a buzz
a murmur rapped…


Rap/ rap. Ps//ja,ja//ha some of these Negroes are plenty ok.
Up there in Canada? Gosh I dunno,,,,,,,,,,,,,

(well yeah I do. Tis a literary device I use)
As u say, these African americans
Stirring here and
where you are
it seemed to echo
near and far

I know this post not about our cousins the black folk.
But , I kidnapped it.
Sorry,was bored.
Never w/u .

Liquid music I
heard it drink
within the song
or so I think
It brought along
a mood so strange;
the ancient, sacred
and profane.



No diff no more.
Sacred’s rep is sunk.profane is on th e upswing,
And w/o
“A SACRED THINg” to live up to,it can crawl around downLow
To get uphigh.
Where we are. So far away,we. God help us aristocrats of the soul.

fuck it. i shal l bring back th e SACred.
just cuz i =so bored.haw!

French by William R. Trask, [first published in German as Das Heilige und das Profane (1957)]

Man becomes aware of the sacred because it manifests itself, shows itself, as something wholly different from the profane. To designate the act of manifestation of the sacred, we have proposed the term hierophany. It is a fitting term, because it does not imply anything further; it expresses no more than is implicit in its etymological content, i.e., that something sacred shows itself to us. It could be said that the history of religions — from the most primitive to the most highly developed — is constituted by a great number of hierophanies, by manifestations of sacred realities. From the most elementary hierophany — e.g. manifestation of the sacred in some ordinary object, a stone or a tree — to the supreme hierophany (which, for a Christian,
is the incarnation of God in Jesus Christ)
there is no solution of continuity.
In each case we are confronted by the same mysterious act —

the manifestation of something of a wholly different order,
a reality that does not belong to our world,
in objects that are an integral part of our natural "profane" world.

guy knew his shit, eliade. whattisname?ach

but blake ther e way before him, yes?
"This life's dim windows of the soul
Distorts the heavens from pole to pole
And leads you to believe a lie
When you see with, not through, the eye."


but then dylAN!


You lose yourself, you reappear
You suddenly find you got nothin' to fear
Alone you stand with nobody near
When a trembling distant voice unclear
Startles your sleeping ear to hear
That somebody thinks they really found you.
ME?

French by William R. Trask, [first published in German as Das Heilige und das Profane (1957)]

Man becomes aware of the sacred because it manifests itself, shows itself, as something wholly different from the profane. To designate the act of manifestation of the sacred, we have proposed the term hierophany. It is a fitting term, because it does not imply anything further; it expresses no more than is implicit in its etymological content, i.e., that something sacred shows itself to us. It could be said that the history of religions — from the most primitive to the most highly developed — is constituted by a great number of hierophanies, by manifestations of sacred realities. From the most elementary hierophany — e.g. manifestation of the sacred in some ordinary object, a stone or a tree — to the supreme hierophany (which, for a Christian,
is the incarnation of God in Jesus Christ)
there is no solution of continuity.
In each case we are confronted by the same mysterious act —

the manifestation of something of a wholly different order,
a reality that does not belong to our world,
in objects that are an integral part of our natural "profane" world.

guy knew his shit, eliade. whattisname?ach

but blake ther e way before him, yes?
"This life's dim windows of the soul
Distorts the heavens from pole to pole
And leads you to believe a lie
When you see with, not through, the eye."


but then dylAN!


You lose yourself, you reappear
You suddenly find you got nothin' to fear
Alone you stand with nobody near
When a trembling distant voice unclear
Startles your sleeping ear to hear
That somebody thinks they really found you.
ME?

This is delicious. Sensuous, spiritual and ethereal. Nicely done.

I love the images you paint here. The moon is a source of much lovely poetry. I loved the liquid music.
rated with love

Baby, it's cold outside.

Love the being held in the lap of night...the pregnant moon...the ancient, sacred and profane.