Purple Moon – A Poem

Image from Clapway.com

28th August 2021

The modern-day definition of a Blue Moon is when there are 2 Full Moons in one month. A Full Moon occurs roughly every 29.5 days and on the rare occasion when the Full Moon falls at the very beginning of a month there is a good chance a Blue Moon will occur at the end of the month. A purple moon is the special name given to the second full moon of a 30-day month, especially in April. Generally, second full moon in a month is called the blue moon. The first full moon occurring in April is called the Pink Moon. Purple Moon fits well as the name of second full moon in April following Pink Moon, analogous to mixing pink and blue yielding purple. Giving that April has only 30 days, a second full moon in April is extremely rare, which led to the idiom once in a purple moon referring to an extremely rare event, even rarer than the more familiar ‘once in a blue moon’.

Purple Moon

August is the corn moon; it happens every year.

And once in a blue moon rising is something rather rare.

February never has two moons, it never sees one blue,

It sometimes has no moon at all, and cares little about that too.

But April is the pink moon when flowers and seeds break out,

So, two full moons in April are a bonus to shout about.

Pink and blue make purple, so we call it the purple moon,

There’s not been one in fifty years, let’s hope we have one soon.

©Joseph R Mason 2021

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Choice

21st August 2021

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

In my ear, a small voice, “We all have a choice.

We all have free will, to do good or for ill.”

“We were never made perfect; we were born out of conflict.

Sin was never our choice.” “But it was,” said the voice.

“We could never do better because sin was our fetter.

It’s like chains that bind us, in prison confines us.

Is there just no way out? No forgiveness about?

It’s a highway to hell, when for you tolls the bell.

There’s no stairway to heaven, there is no antigen.”

“But there is,” says the voice, “and it’s still about choice.”

“I chose darkness not light; can I still choose what’s right?

“I am not your nemesis, and way before Genesis,

Before you were in womb, you were then my heirloom,

My precious delight, never out of my sight,

No more wrong, just do right, come into the light.”

“But how do I get there, I don’t know how to pray?”

“Just be trusting in me, for I am the way.”

So, I asked for His grace, and His Spirit He sent.

When I got to my feet, on His cross I was leant.

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Midnight

21st August 2021

Photo by Kindel Media on Pexels.com

Please note, this is just a poem, it does not reflect me at the present but may resonate with some.

Midnight?

That’s not my time

At least, not at my time of life

Cocoa’s long been drunk

Teeth cleaned, and into the arms of Morpheus

But when I was younger

Fifty years younger

Oh, how I remember

Or rather, I don’t

Was I drunk?

Those years I can’t recall

Those pints of ale

That singing

The darts

Those laughs with my mates

Most of them gone too

All vanished, like butterflies in winter

They may be there, but…

I remember them not

I ask, was I drunk?

Was I drunk?

But now

Dementia

…and now… I wish I were drunk.

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Eugi’s Weekly Prompt – Midnight – August 19, 2021 – Eugi’s Causerie (amanpan.com)

Death in a vase

Flowers, withering without water.

Drying, dying, none to care.

Petals dropping, one by one,

Dying, drying, abhorrent, uncared.

The slightest breeze and several fall

Dried, died, yet still fragrant.

Their perfume fills only the imagination.

Reality is the smell of stagnation.

The aroma of death,

By midday sun or moonlit night

They fall, dead, dry, parched.

A flower head bends, droops,

As if looking down,

searching for the water.

Leaves, curl and crisp

Pale to the eye, pallid to the touch

Drying, perishing, bleached of colour.

Stalk, brown and shrivelled.

Crisp to touch, hard, unforgiving.

This is my life, my love, my death.

My very existence, displayed in a vase.

Arranged with care and an eye for form.

Such beauty once was there

Now dead, so dead, so dead. So very dead.

This is what I dread.

©Jospeph R Mason 2021

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Eugi’s Weekly Prompt – Petals – July 29, 2021 – Eugi’s Causerie (amanpan.com)