The Tethered Moon

To give us naught but bleak display,
To say, to say,
Love has never tethered moon
That way,
That heather never blooms but brays
To drop the stars in sage and grays.

And in this flash hewn verdance sent,
Aghast the sea in violet vent,
Abhors the virgin-singed regret,
This skirmish lost though never met.

And where upon a furrowed leaf,
The miner enters as a thief,
To take the blood but not belief,
Was not the time to span a grief?

But given naught but bleak display,
That tethered moon has gone astray,
And pulls not tide but skin away,
To slink beyond a son and pray.

Image: Aron Visuals on Unsplash

5 Thoughts

  1. Good morning Mr Brock. On the basis that a writer’s best can earn greater credence by the presence of a piece that is not quite as glorious, I liked this poem a little less than others. Without spending an age in seeking the reasons, my gut feel is that the rhyme was too insistent. And of course this affects not at all my love and enjoyment of your work. All best.


    1. Hello, Peter. It it so good to hear from you. I hope you are well. And thank you for your honest assessment of this piece. I’ve been working on meter, rhyme and form of late (this one after a deep dive into Blake). Please feel free to drop me an email, I’d love to know how you are doing and how your work is coming along. I’ve stopped popping in on WoL, so if you have posted there I will not have seen it. But you always deliver the goods. So, if you have (posted there), let me know and I’ll check it out.

      All the best,


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