The Man in the Moon's Nightmare
The Man in the Moon sailed down at noon, to dance in the sands of time. As his feet touched the soil with hardly a toil, he began to speak in rhyme.
“The cat’s fiddle is lost and so is Jack Frost, in the soft places of the world.
No mariner I be, but I sail indeed, to find them in this sea.”
His beard does sway in a merry way as he marches through the mist.. Clouds rise and fall, while thunder booms and startles the man in the moon. Shaken yet unafraid he sings to whatever there may be.
“Halt unseen stranger and halt your noise! For thunder and lightning make unpleasant toys. Tread lightly and speak freely, let me be your boon. For I seek no battle, just my friends, says I the man in the moon.”
Out of the fog, comes the little dog. In its mouth a silver spoon. The man smiles with glee and the dog jumps to see, the man for himself. He sniffs the man and licks his hand and gives the spoon to thee.
“How good it is to see a familiar face, old friend of mine. I seek the fiddle and good Jack Frost, who were lost in the soft places of the world! I’ve walked for hours perhaps even years, without a hope in sight. Now sight I no longer need, for now we have your nose!”
The man laughed and rose, and wiggled his toes, and off the pair did go. They set sail again in his silver craft, the man did row, and the dog did laugh. The light did fade as they sailed away into the sandman’s sea. The boat began to rock, the dreams did mock, and the man began to cry.
“We’ve been here for eons! With no luck to date, Jack Frost and the fiddle…this must be their fate.” He bowed his head in horrible dread and the dog began to speak.
“Fear not, my friend, together to the end, wake now and you shall see!. Jack Frost, the fiddle, this is not their fate, but you must wake soon, the man in the moon, and leave this dreaming state!”
The man opened his eyes and soon he woke, back in the bed in the moon. The dog rushed in to kiss his chin, with Jack Frost by his side. Hey diddle diddle the cat played the fiddle, with the spoon and the dish nearby.
Something wrong with this poem?
Replies are closed for this poem.
Your Poem's Voice
See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.
Comments (0)
No comments yet. Be the first to share your thoughts.
Log in to leave a comment.