Hello Mr. No Moon
I wanted to say hello to your friends
The No Stars
They're there
But they don't shine like you do
No Moon
Where is your reflection
Trickled down the river
No shade No Moon
This fake one has no use for my eyes
Oh No Moon
My love
My sir
My Mr.
No Moon
Rings a bell
Glides off the tongue
Not roll
Isn't it sweet when you know when you're about to fall
To know where the fish swims
To see
To breath
To live
Mr. No Moon
I wanted to say hello
Say hello to you
You don't shine like you used to
Not anymore
About the Creator
Queen Jordan
A catapillar surrounded by butterflies
•with patience my true beauty will show•
Keep reading
More stories from Queen Jordan and writers in Poets and other communities.
Misfit
I am the misfit with a name that I never grew into. Hands are made tough for furniture building. Hair made thick to protect my head from every fall I take. I am that clumsy, too much of a klutz for my own good. Legs made strong for walking miles and carrying baggage that doesn’t have my name on it. No matter how hard I tried my fingers refuse to let go. Eyes wide to watch what I must protect. Which isn’t much since my heart is a one bedroom apartment. But my mind has guest rooms with balconies and a Queen size mattress with a dresser underneath it. A strange apartment complex where each tenant has an unusual hobby that could get them kicked out. But their entertaining, so I keep them. They are my misfit personalities. A hodgepodge of what I want to be and want others expect me to be.
By Queen Jordan6 years ago in Poets
First Starlight of Summer
Your whole being is constituted by yearning. You miss the stars but have never seen a fully-realized night sky sparkle to life before your eyes. You write things, funny but short but profound, emulating the archaic cosmos that turns by its own unknowable calculus emulating love in all its celestial glory turning in that same cryptic way, but fully know neither and hardly know both, and it feels disingenuous, so you write about writers. It feels vaguely masturbatory, but it’s funny but short but profound and it impresses the people around you enough, so you run with it forever until you can’t anymore.
By Steven Christopher McKnight4 days ago in Fiction
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