A Moon-Stained Poem

by Portia Burton

The dome of sky has dissolved,
And in the snowstorm’s hearse
Dead flowers are being carried
To the dust to meet their curse.

In this hour of melancholy,
On the blanket of darkness,
The moon has slept taking me
In her motherly embrace.

Yet I feel like an orphan,
And seek some solace with a shaking hand,
Oh, how everything has collapsed about me
Like a ruined castle of sand!

All my cries are stonewalled
By the silence so absolute,
Their wounded echoes return to me
To coagulate my tears and make me mute.

The tendrils of vine of darkness
Are surrounding me as if to claim
My tears and sighs and heartbeats
In lieu of a moon-stained poem.

©Portia Burton 2012

3 thoughts on “A Moon-Stained Poem by Portia Burton

  1. A poem full of imagery, sound devices, fresh diction resulting in an evocative poem full of compressed emotion which brought tears to my eyes and made me want to hug you. This is what Wordsworth called “a spontaneous overflow of emotion reflected upon during a moment of tranquility” and proves you on your way to the point where the writing of poetry ceases to be a craft and, becomes, instead, a fully developed artistic art. Well done.

    • Portia Burton

      Thank you, dear Mr. Ron.
      This poem came to me while I was sitting by the side of my ailing mother’s bed in the eerie silence of the hospital. I scribbled it there on a tissue paper and thereafter went to the washroom to give way to my welling tears.
      -Portia Burton


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