Letting the Poet out to play

Two more poems for my Starving Writer Survival Fund,
written for two of my generous friends.

While the City sleeps,
The Rust Moon ignites,
Steeping the streets with Crimson light.
The Sleepers dream their dreams.

While the City dreams,
The Sanguine Moon bleeds,
Baptizing the Bloodshot streets.
The Dreamer’s dream strange dreams.

While the City wakes,
The Wine Moon fades,
Dawn strips away the scarlet taint.
The People wake from their dreams.


When the light comes on,
When the eyes they shine,
When the mind is clear,
We Compose.

When the idea comes out,
When the hands they type,
When the thought is composed,
We Struggle.

When the rime is writ,
When the heart it slows,
When the soul is freed,
We Soar.



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