Ballad Of The Moon


The moon came into the forge in her bustle of flowering nard. The little boy stares at her, stares. The boy is staring hard. In the shaken air the moon moves her arms, and shows lubricious and pure, her breasts of hard tin. “Moon, moon, moon, run! If the gypsies come, they will use your heart to make white necklaces and rings.” “Let me dance, my little one. When the gypsies come, they’ll find you on the anvil with your lively eyes closed tight. “Moon, moon, moon, run! I can feel their horses come.” “Let me be, my little one, don’t step on me, all starched and white!” Closer comes the horseman, drumming on the plain. The boy is in the forge; his eyes are closed. Through the olive grove come the gypsies, dream and bronze, their heads held high, their hooded eyes. Oh, how the night owl calls, calling, calling from its tree! The moon is climbing through the sky with the child by the hand. They are crying in the forge, all the gypsies, shouting, crying. The air is viewing all, views all. The air is at the viewing.”


Congratulations! Your recitation has been created. Let's wait and see what others think of your performance.

Now playing

sergey May 20, 2013 at 7:45am

This is awful and robratterman sucks!

Reply

robert-bobert May 21, 2013 at 3:10am

Yeah, this guy is just nuts!

robratterman May 21, 2013 at 3:12am

YOU BOTH ARE FIRED!!!

poemz recitations




No one has recorded this poem yet! Be the first!
more

or

Upload .mp3 file
or click here to cancel.

Please allow us to use your microphone...

Recording in progress

00:00

Please wait while we upload your record...

Review your performance