My Poems 1

This poem won the Space Poety Competition in Writing Magazine.

I would like to dedicate it to Neil Armstrong 1930-2012. The first person to walk on the moon.

The Man in the Moon.

 

As a boy I laughed

At the face, in the round

 yellow night-light glow

 that beamed through the window pane

 and danced patterns on my pillow,

 and I dreamed one day we would meet,

me and the man in the moon.

 

When I grew up, I became part of

 the race. A carefully rehearsed plan,

 we were there first.

 In awe I bounced around the boulders

 with eyes, picked dust from the nose,

 and floated over craters of teeth.

 There was not one sliver of silver

 or piece of green cheese in sight.

 The race was won and we came home.

 

And now I lie here and gaze into space,

 wondering how I imagined a man’s face,

 or reflected on rhymes about jumping cows.

 Not that it really matters to me now,

 here in this white walled room,

 that reeks of boiled cabbage and beef.

 Because I, who left footprints on the moon,

 am being slowly eclipsed, with all this.

 Someone is holding my dish and feeding me,

 with a spoon.