Photo by Keith R. Good

There’s a moon out tonight. Nothing special about that. Unless you make it special. Your poem will be a night poem. The sounds of  night. The night sky. Yes, the moon and stars. Silhouettes in the night. Paint the romance of night with your words. Write the despair of night with your words. Just don’t take all night!

Marie’s Night:


As the sun
 slips beneath the water,
Her afterglow lingers above –
Much to wooing moon’s delight.
And they  bask  in the glow
Those fleeting moments
They call their own,
As their hearts

Walt’s Mooning:


Soft summer breezes wafting,
a gentle sifting through the poplar branches.
It enhances the night as I am serenaded
by cicada bugs and the distant rumble
of locomotive engines. Humbled by the expansive
evening sky, I am mesmerized. The lure of lunar
luminance draws my glances on the odd chance
that someone else eyes this same satellite.
It is a great night and it feels right to share
this scene. Over a distance, the same moon
is simultaneously viewed – together, a bond
brightly borne. Come morning,
before the promise of a new day, the display
of this starlit night brings you both to this moment.
Under this shared summer sky; a his and hers moon;
we take joint custody of a shared passion

81 thoughts on “THERE’S A MOON OUT TONIGHT – PROMPT #18

  1. Now, there’s a coincidence I can’t ignore. I just wrote this bit, relating to something on the news a while back, about the theory (more or less) that the backside of the moon is home to the remains of a smaller moon that came too close.

    if there were two moons,
    which was the true moon
    the one who rode piggy back?
    or the the face with no back?
    did you eat the little lunatic
    who fell into your orbit, sister moon?
    is she hiding in the dark
    is she plotting in the dark
    do you only think she’s beaten, sister moon?

    If there were two moons,
    which would the owls call,
    what name would the wolf howl
    if there were two


    When the moon turns upon herself,
    folds into a rocking cradle
    of night yellow, it is not for
    timidity or her fear of
    human slings of ridicule.

    The night queen sits enthroned,
    suspended high in the heavens
    to spare us her full-blown magnificence.
    She proffers a slivered quarter
    or half her cratered loveliness.

    The moon tones down the brightness
    of her gold and nestles in the crook of
    planetary haze. We cannot comprehend
    the twinkling yellow moons like
    twin night fire flickering in our eyes.

    We capture her in feeble sight,
    see her smallness in the astrological
    distance that space travelers know so well
    but we remain blind to her power,
    the ease with which she turns the tides.


  3. My Nineteenth Birthday

    Mom invited my best friend
    and the guy next door over
    for lasagna and blueberry cheesecake
    and then we three took a walk,
    miles up the back roads and paths
    into the State Gamelands.
    My neighbor, a hunter,
    knew his way around even at night.
    To the tune of crickets, peep frogs
    and an occasional owl,
    three long-time friends
    walked through the woods
    in the light of the full moon—
    laughing, talking and joking.
    My last birthday as a teenager,
    a sweet, memorable one.

  4. Imprints of Guilt

    Father Night sweeps dust upon your cloak

    an incubus that haunts life’s fervent truth

    and though the breeze incites veracity

    dense matter stifled chains forgotten youth.

    You toss and turn, your trunk a newborn babe

    with residue beneath the skins of crime

    sweat stains the satin sheets you lie upon,

    leaves imprints on guilt’s vessel every time.

  5. In the Night Sky

    “Metaphor for the night sky: A trillion asterisks and no explanations”. ~Robert Brault

    I’ll never offer
    explanations…but look up.
    You might find me there.



    Noticing the arrangement:
    half moon
    pale in mid morning sky
    placed perfectly between two weeping willows.
    I noticed you
    just at this moment
    and I stopped to be a spectator
    of your glorious placement.
    This is one of the last times I really
    relished in the moon’s presence.
    I’m so glad I looked up when I did.

    ~Hannah Gosselin

  7. Marie, I love this line especially,”Much to wooing moon’s delight.” Playing with those extra “o’s” wicked fun!

    Walt, you really captured the moment beautifully. I enjoyed the “gentle sifiting.”

    Really enjoyed yours Barbara, interesting facts and cool coincidence as well! 🙂

    Sweet Sunday smiles to all! 🙂


    When you gaze at it
    What do you see?
    America’s achievement
    Was getting there.
    To take a chance
    You shoot it.
    Children’s books
    Say goodnight to it.

    It lights your way
    And marks your time.
    Lover’s do it.
    Scientists study it.
    Children look for the man.
    It moves the tides
    and signals harvest.
    Perhaps it is the soul of Earth.

  9. Three fabulous offerings from the talented Jane Shlensky!

    Under the Same Moon

    Reflected light appeals to lonely me,
    waiting sky-faced and moon-touched
    in the night for a time when I can trade
    the moon’s golden glow for your bright eyes,
    radiant with hope that life will be kind to us,
    will help us find our shadowed way across
    dark continents to a common ground,
    not blasted with white day but tenderly
    soothed by cool slate nights, second-hand sun
    gently guiding us, first-hand love joyfully
    sustaining us.

    a shadorma


    O lovely
    mirroring bauble,
    transform bright
    day to night’s
    purposes, sunlight made new,
    in black velvet night.

    Below, all
    things of earth shimmer
    silver blue,
    shadows touch
    and pull our tidal souls to
    light and hope, star-sprung.

    From childhood,
    I have reached for you,
    marking your
    pilgrim path
    to full-faced, golden longing
    beyond all reason.

    Moon Songs
    (For Volodya)

    You are going to break my heart.
    I feel it already sitting on this night bench
    and looking up, dazzled by moonlight’s tinge
    and singing, “Over the mountain, over the sea,
    That’s where my heart is longing to be,
    O let the light that shines on me,
    Shine on the one I love.”

    I know already that I have not found my love;
    he’s out there somewhere, in Bukhara or Moscow,
    looking at this moon tinting his world,
    all hollowed out and seeking, broken
    by his equivalent of you,
    and I know that he aches for me,
    here beneath this moon,
    sending his longing out like radar,
    like tiny ephemeral ropes of moon glow,
    as he sings, “Somewhere out there,
    beneath the pale moonlight,
    someone’s thinking of me
    and loving me tonight.”

    Wishing on moon magic.
    singing to moon power,
    two years later, we will recognize
    one another, in China, sprinkled
    with the same moon dust.
    And we will sing, “It’s not the pale moon
    that excites me, that thrills and delights me,
    oh, no, it’s just the nearness of you…”
    And it will be.

  10. Shadows Play Across the Ness Lough

    Evening plays tricks
    the mist across the moon laden moor
    shows the shadow’s movement.
    Star pocked remains the sky,
    playful pokes into the cosmos.
    A splash distracts; an act that replays frequently
    on these foggy nights. A gurgle of bubbles
    becomes the song of the lough chanteuse. Distant
    is the calling; a caterwauling as the cries
    of the creature enchant. It cannot be proven
    but the legend of evenings along Loch Ness
    performs another slight of disbelieving eyes.

  11. I Borrowed My Father’s Circular Saw

    When I was young
    my arms could curve
    all the way to my father’s smile,
    and his warmth encircled me
    till I saw my dreams.

    Then I turned my back
    as I built my life,
    eclipsing him into darkness,
    yet I always knew where he was –
    my ebb and flow of life.

    Now the dimming stars
    foretell his numbered days,
    There seems no time to ask him,
    “Can we extend our ladders
    and demolish these growing clouds?”

  12. I’m including the notes I wrote on my blog to show how much I love this site… and Marie and Walt, you are BOTH frisky on this one, hee hee. Loved it. Keith, your photo is the perfect inspiration. I’m also leaving the blog link at the bottom. Peace, Amy

    FROM MY BLOG: Poetic Bloomings (a newer prompt site – check it out!) asked for poems using the most irresistible prompt: “There’s a moon out tonight.” Aaaaaah. Amy

    La Bella Luna

    Grab a jacket and take my hand, darlin’.
    Tonight, Monona’s lakeside is calling out to us.
    La bella luna want to bathe all lovers
    in beams of reflected light.

    Here by the shore, slight chill of the autumn to come,
    we’ll stroll, serenaded by so many crickets
    and the soft paddle of ducks, looking for a late-night snack.

    Though full-faced Old Man looms above, silverfoiled and shining,
    the lightning bugs are not overwhelmed.
    Blinking gold, ruby, emerald… just out of reach,
    yet so near, teasing us, same as they did
    when we were kids lying in field of wild grasses.

    City lights are low, revealing buckets of stars
    spilled in horoscope formations.
    We needn’t prove our love beneath this panorama.
    We are no longer teenagers, needing it now, now.
    The silver moon lingers in streaks of our hair
    as we walk and whisper, my hand in your jacket,
    you arm slung around my shoulder as we make our way home.

    © 2011 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil

  13. Love’s Wake

    Once a bitter conquest
    Tainted for love’s whisper

    Your voice is heard
    In the shadow

    In the hollows of the night
    Under the moon’s
    Sprinkled rays

    A calm light is seen
    Witnessed in the wake

    Soft grays
    Silver meek words

    Slip betwixt
    Stirred hearts

    Into rippled romance
    Resounding in the depths

    Of love’s wake

  14. Pingback: Celestial Magic « echoes from the silence


    Across the water, blue
    Splashes of amber
    Melt to a different hue

    As the sun settles there
    He remembers its shine
    On her face, her hair

    Across the water, blue
    The nightlight rises
    On time, on cue

    In moonbeams bright
    She remembers the sparkle
    Of his eyes in the light

    Defying the odds of the celestial
    Their orbits once paired
    As something quite magical

    Yet like the sun follows the moon
    Their paths cannot cross
    Neither at midnight, nor noon

    P. Wanken

  16. This is so unromantic, I hesitate to post it!

    Moonlit accrostic

    Must I really close the curtains?
    Only if I want to sleep
    Or stop the neighbours looking in.
    Not a single peep
    Lest they see
    If my house is untidy.
    Go on admit it.
    How could they do that?
    To get one up on me!

  17. From Serenade to Sonata

    The music of the night,
    takes a darkened sky and performs
    a transformation from the brilliance of day
    to the briskness of dusk, and onward to the midnight
    hours. Gentility in notation, an exploration of the sounds
    that bring sight to a wanderer’s mindless thoughts. Moonlight
    offersa symphony; a score that haunts and soothes, reminds and
    taunts, an undaunting and relentless pursuit to the melodic beauty
    inherrent in her mystery. Of all the orbs in history, the moon launches
    many a lover’s heart to the door of true love’s reasoning. Any season becomes
    a romantic departure for hearts sure and infatuate. And the music of a moonlighting
    muse will not anguish or abuse a soul’s longing. It belongs to lovers in tune with the night.

  18. The moon: is.
    Always there,
    Yet somehow it’s a pool of surprise.
    It startles me like a sudden pain.
    and catches
    ahh the moon
    my breath.

  19. Luna, How I Revere You

    Whether watching you explode
    To birth, full, on a Tuscan hillside
    Or dangle thin as my baby-finger’s
    Nail-clipping, over the peak of our roof

    I find myself weak in the knees
    Moved to tears almost with such beauty
    They say you are but a reflection of Sol
    I say, where would he be without you

  20. Ganymede

    Selena could draw blood tonight,
    Her fingernail sharp upon the
    Northern Cross. She whispers warning,

    But Zeus turns away, a great swan
    Intent upon his Nemesis,
    Stretching love across the heavens.

    Pegasus paces his great square
    And suddenly the firmament
    Springs alive, rushing down on us.

    We lie still, counting our heartbeats,
    Two children of Ganymede, drunk
    Like poets under the new moon.

  21. Streetlights

    Nighttime falls when you most expect it.
    The death of the day is a new reality.
    The long line of streetlights stand ready,
    to cast a false shadow on what you see.

    It’s what you don’t see in the nighttime
    that keeps you muted in your naivety.
    A full moon casts true shadows.
    The running headlights cannot let it be.

    So much false crying and laughing.
    They bite hard while loosing their teeth.
    The streetlights call out to no one.
    Yet many will fall down beneath.

    The spirit within each streetlight
    calls out those desiring their sleep.
    No missions in just after midnight.
    Just tears welled up waiting to weep.

    They gleam of new hope in the darkness.
    They buzz as the die then they burn.
    They speak the great truths of the nighttime.
    They wish as they watch while they learn.

    By Michael Grove

  22. OLD INK

    The night is special poets-time.
    Tis then the ghosts of poets past
    peer o’er our heads and weep
    into the liquid ink.
    Their inspiration, darkly stained,
    doth dance across the page.

    With every midnight line
    deep scratched on parchment’s face,
    new generations find archaic words
    best read by candlelight.

    I hold no fear for my demise.
    When brother Reaper calls my name
    my ever-work will then begin.
    I’ll find my nights filled as your muse,
    a distant whisper in your ear,
    and weep a river for your pen.

  23. “Zombie Movie Climax”

    So this crazy zombie movie scenario stars me
    as me myself, and also as the zombie who shambles
    patiently through the abandoned midnight neighborhood scene:
    Hero-me stops running, grabs zombie-me by the lapels,
    yells “Wake up! Smell the roses,” while shaking vigorously.

    Close up of two faces. The living one: “Look at yourself!”
    A spark ignites in the zombie’s eye. “You’re animated!”
    The room spirals and goes bright in a frenzy of cellos.
    Their clutch breaks as the hero cries, “You don’t have to act dead!”
    The zombie’s mouth closes, then opens, then moans, “Oh. I see.

    Animation. It’s all. I have. So. It has. To be. Good.
    Enough. For me.” Dawn’s first rosy finger touches the east.
    Zomb-me turns to look. On the face of it, life doesn’t hold
    much for the vitally challenged. On the other ghastly
    hand, what might a cadaver become, exploring the hills,

    riding a cargo ship to Chile, learning how to dance,
    dining with—who knows who—or what—on tacos de sesos?


  24. That Night

    I wear black
    and wish upon
    the constellationesque freckles
    of your right cheek
    breath held fast
    in clenched fists
    and trembling teeth
    as we talk it all away
    shrouded in our inky
    until the earth itself
    and there is
    the lonely liquid moon
    and her starspilled tears.

  25. Marie’s Night nonet inspired me to try one myself!

    Night (A Nonet)

    Like a cloak over her bare shoulders
    Black night descends about the day
    Pulling, shrugging, settling in
    Day sighs in gratitude
    Heaviness ,comfort
    are to be hers
    Night will rule
    She will

  26. Moon Dreams

    (with acknowledgement to Willie Dixon)

    The dogs begin to bark,
    and the hounds begin to howl,
    the full moon silhouettes a cat,
    sleekly dancing across the roofs,
    my breath is held,
    my heart skips a beat,
    as my mind is drawn to you.

    Long nights holding you,
    harsh nights scolding you,
    and reveries,
    linger in the moon light.

    The owls are hooting
    and the bats are wheeling,
    the clouds drift silently,
    but the full moon still beams,
    casting shadows like ghosts,
    as my breath is held
    and the dogs begin to bark.

    Long nights holding you,
    harsh nights scolding you,
    and reveries,
    linger in the deep night.

    Tears are falling quietly,
    no breath left to sob,
    recalling beauty and sweetness
    and a love that never was,
    my heart beats faster,
    as I dreamily close my eyes
    and the hounds begin to howl.


  27. Veiled Beauty

    I thought of writing this when I took out the trash and decided to look up to see a gorgeous moon but only found stars in disappointment. It was a very beautiful, pleasant evening though.

    Why do I long after your veiled beauty?
    Why hide thyself amongst the clouds?
    I’ve looked and cannot behold
    I’ve searched and found thee not
    Be not ashamed of thy loveliness,
    thy healing radiance
    For you are the lesser light bearer
    to rule the night
    a precious stone amid a star studded cast
    and heavenly host
    yet possessing no light of your own
    but only as thou receive
    is your boast

  28. Pingback: Friday Freeforall: Peanuts, Crackerjacks, Poetry Prompts « Margo Roby: Wordgathering

  29. Sorry I’m so late. I’m lucky to be here at all again this week. I have only this one so far and am hoping for at least one more this evening. Everyone has written such marvelous poems for this prompt. Kudos all.

    Moon Song

    My light notes sparkle
    Across Earth’s waters.
    My deep tones create
    Shadow Tag along
    Ground’s rises and falls.
    Rhythm remains slow,
    Steady as seasons’
    Passage through God’s time.
    Within my long notes
    Are soloists bold,
    Choirs infinite,
    And numbers varied.
    My crescendo comes
    With my darker mood
    I leave Earth to light
    Itself, while shouts of
    Encore! penetrate
    Night’s blackness throughout.

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