Tonight the Moon Offended


Once more with night the moon proceeds

Upon her stately course.

She carries her own sad music with her always

as she goes,

and fills the air it seems as though

with many violins.


Yes tonight the moon imperious strides.


She keeps her own company tonight,

drifting through the cloud palaces,

Her courtiers pace behind her

at a respectful distance,

Whimpering to each other, unseen

In the shadows of the trees.

Their whispering is the rustling of the leaves,

they say:

See the Queen tonight… she is thoughtful, no?”

But why does she not smile??”

Oh yes, her smile is like a mountain lily

kissed by a dream.”

But why does she not smile??”


She dreams, by and by,

Resplendent upon her marble couch, the sky.



surveying his lunar goddess from below,

a pensive poet sighs and cries unto the skies;

Oh moon!

My moody moon!

Why do you turn your face from me?

How have I offended thee?

Why do you scowl behind

Your sullen shawl of yellow clouds?

Why Veil thyself in vapours,

like a grey and shifting shroud?

Why will you shine not upon

your poet and his labours?

Are not we poets, after all,

Your most devoted Admirers?

Your most faithful Lovers?

Your most obedient Slaves?

Haven’t I written all of my most

beautiful poems

for you?


O How have I offended thee?

Why do you turn your face from me?

Was it something I said.

Something I wrote that you read?

Was it because, Oh Moon,

I once rhymed you with spoon?

O Moon

I’m sorry.

I will never

Do it




See now,

You smiled!

That’s better then.

So come and sit with me awhile,

in this secluded garden where

the silver fountains play

and we will trace the paths of stars

as they cartwheel through the sky.

And we will dream, (as lovers always do)

until the dawn ‘cross the night sky seeps

And back to our beds we both shall creep,

You behind the western shadowed mountains,

and I behind my bedroom’s velvet curtains.

And as we sleep, we shall ignore the day

and dream of twilight’s dawning

and the new night’s play.


So Moon,

My moody moon,

why do you turn your face from me?

* **


No review this week kiddies, but stay tuned cos in the coming weeks because I’ll be showing you how to train your cat not to kill birds and reviewing the Coffee Shoppes of West End. Is it possible to get a decent coffee in Brisbanes cosmopolitan hotspot  in 2011, or even a comfortable chair? Attend next Sunday’s sermon and discover the shocking truth!


The Reverend Hellfire is a practising Performance Poet and an ordained Minister of the Church of Spiritual Humanism and the Church of the Universe. He has the body of a young boy and the heart of a three thousand year old crocodile.



~ by reverendhellfire on June 5, 2011.

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