Friday, April 29, 2011

Morning Moon

                                           Brenda Bryant


The rising sun floods the sky with pink,
Yet still the night's full moon,
Sails on, majestic, up above,
To be extinguished, soon.



A room hung with pictures is a room hung with thoughts;
Thoughts, understand, of different sorts.
Arthur gazes at a naked figure
And wishes it had been painted bigger!

Gladys looks at the same bold scene
And she thinks it is quite obscene!

Fred takes a look and thinks 'Not my type.
In my opinion she's over-ripe!'

May, who's obsessed with cellulite,
Thinks 'If I undressed I'd look a fright!'

Guy, the local Man of the Cloth,
Thinks 'That deserves the Grapes of Wrath!'

Felicia, who's young and pretty,
Thinks 'I've never posed and that's a pity!'

Bertie, a lad who's not too smart,
Thinks 'So that is why they take up art!'
A myriad thoughts buzz round the place,
And you'd never read them from each face!
All that we can do is guess
As they view a lady without a dress!


Emille said...

The morning moon is beautiful! Thanks for visiting my blog:)

magiceye said...

:) beautiful!

forgetmenot said...

Love your Morning Moon poem and the lovely shot it is written about. Very nice. Mickie