There is nothing more beautiful than full moon light riding on ocean waves. As fall comes on, and tourists crawl back into their cocoons, the lunar cycle continues with two full moons in the month of October. The Harvest Moon comes on the first and the Blue Moon comes on the thirty-first.
Full Moon surfs high tide
crashing on glistening wet sand
Coconut Palms sway
Tonight at d”Verse Frank Tassone asked us to write our Monday Haibun using the moon as our prompt. Two full moons are happening this year in the month of October. I took two of my paintings and changed them into black and white for effect.
A Dunkard Brethren church once sat at the top of the ridge overlooking Willow Run. Now in crumbles of brick and mortar, flowering honeysuckle invite bees to commune at their cups of sweetness. Blacksnakes slither through the rubble looking for a toad or rat residing there.
It was in this church where itinerant preachers on horseback brought fiery brimstone, forgiveness, and grace to the faithful who gathered. Souls were saved and dunked all the way under in Willow Run.
On the hillside the full moon reflects off of a few protruding graveyard stones. Most have long since been overgrown and broken. The names on the stones kiss the ground, above the deceased as “In their dreams they sleep with the moon.”
Tales are told by the ancients, who still live nearby, that at midnight’s full moon rise, horses pounding hooves echo through the night!
Today at d’Verse, Merril introduce a prosery prompt. This is a short story of no more than 144 words that can be flash fiction, true, or far out imaginary. It must include a random line from a poem that she shared with us. Her line was from a Mary Oliver poem, (Death at Wind River),“In their dreams they sleep with the moon.”My story is flash fiction, based on a little church from my home town. My two brothers and I visited there two years ago, and I took a bunch of photos. These are a couple of photos from there. The story is made up.
This painting caused me great frustration in getting the turtle to look right in the sand. As a result it remained unfinished. Finally, I simply redid the painting, keeping the moon and changing the scene from the beach to the mountains. I like the way it turned out. A friend that I work with decided he wanted it, so now it has a good home.
Some things in life don’t
turn out the way you had planned
Time to change the scene
Rethink what is important
Recreate something you love
Paintings: Dwight l. Roth
*The turtle lies at the point where the stream turns!
Everyone said the house was haunted. No one lived there since Jim was found hanging in the back bedroom. He came home from a trip to Atlanta and was told by the sheriff that his wife had been murdered by her ex-husband. Weeks later, Jim just couldn’t face life any longer without his one true love.
When George Scott, his neighbor down the hill found him, he immediately called the Sheriff. He met him at the end of the lane, and the two of them went up to the house. The door creaked as they went in and found the chair lying there and the rope dangling from the closet, but Jim was nowhere to be found!
On full moon nights, some say they see movements in the window. Others say they see Jim standing there, as “his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream!”
Tonight we are writing Prosery at d”Verse. Bjorn asked us to write a prose piece of exactly 144 words, that includes this line from Maya Angelou’s Poem …Caged Bird Sings: …his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream…
Sixty years ago, when I was twelve, we loved to go sledding in the moonlight. The bright full moon shone down on us as we sailed down the hill, past the mail boxes, on our sleds. All the neighbor kids joined in for a fun evening in the cold. Those were great times.
Mem’ries of snowfall
Bright Wolf Moon shines down on us
Sliding down the hill
Photo: from our family album
Frank Tassone asked us to write a Haikai poem that alludes to the Wolf Moon in January.
The full moon crept over the treeless plain. John Clark sat on his broken porch step and watched it rise. Clouds left eerie shadows across the yard. It was All Hallow’s Eve. There was no thought of candy or spooks and goblins.
The dry Oklahoma winds had blown away much of the topsoil. The wheat, this year, dried up in the fields. Last year, it was the swarm of grasshoppers that ate every green thing in sight.These fields were once covered with tall grasses and ranging bison. Now they were lifeless and dusty as a desert. “This is the barrenness of harvest or pestilence.”
John had no choice, but to load his wife and four children in his old Model T Ford, and travel West. They took what they could, hoping to make it to California before the Snow arrived in the mountains.
Dust Bowl Photo: Saturday Evening Post
Bjorn at d’Verse asked us to write a prose piece of not more than 144 words. He took a line from a Louise Gluck poem, which we had to include in our writing. It was also to include the holiday theme of All Hallow’s Eve and Halloween. It was, “This is the barrenness of harvest or pestilence.” I attempted to apply this line to the sad times of the Dust Bowl.
The Full Moon in August is referred to by the Native Americans as the Sturgeon Moon. It is thought that it was due to the large numbers of sturgeon that were available in the northern lakes and rivers at this time of year. Sturgeon are thought to be prehistoric remnants of the ice age. They are bottom feeders that live much longer than most fish. Their boney scale-less bodies and long pointy noses make them look quite different from most fish. Today, Frank Tassone asked us to write a Haikai poem that refers to the Sturgeon Moon. The painting above, of the moon over the mountains and the flowing river, is one I did a few months back. Yesterday, I went back and added more details and color to the original. It is a recycled painting from the Habitat Restore.
Sturgeon Moon rises
Like a boney reflection
This is my little corner of the garage where I do my painting!
Who knows how many souls were lost when this ship went down in the gales of November. Its bones were unearthed on the Outer Banks by another storm many years later. Now it lies in the sand as children and adults look in awe at this piece of the past that has lasted all these years.
Ship bones lie in sand
Hollow ribs without life’s breath
Winter Moon survives
I decided to do an oil painting for a change. I had an old black and white photo I took of a shipwreck in the dunes near Nags Head, NC. I added the oversized full moon for effect. It turned out to be a hauntingly fascinating painting. The top sketch is my original acrylic sketch in black on a white canvas. I covered the canvas with linseed oil and began adding the oils.
Below is the final result:
Painting and Photo: Dwight L. Roth
I did post this a couple of weeks back. I modified it slightly for todays challenge.
I am including this poem for Frank Tassone’s Haikai Challenge, Winter Moon.