Conversations With The Sun and The Moon Read online

Conversations With

  The Sun

  and

  The Moon

  Conversations With The Sun And The Moon

  by Pauline Edwards

  Copyright 2014 Pauline Edwards

  Cover Photo by Francesco Ungaro

  Thank you for downloading this ebook. This book remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be redistributed to others for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy from their favorite authorized retailer. Thank you for your support.

  Author’s Note

  Conversations With the Sun And the Moon was the first collection of poetry I turned into a book. I self-published this collection as a pocket-sized spiral bound chapbook and distributed it to my closest family and friends for Christmas in 2004. A very limited edition of twenty copies were printed. The poems in this collection were written mostly during my teens/tweens when I was struggling with my first period of severe depression, and my first real heart-break. I’ve made only minor edits for formatting, spelling, and punctuation in this edition in an attempt to retain the authenticity of the original manuscript.

  Table of Contents

  The Sun

  The Moon

  About the Author

  Connect with Pauline

  The Sun…

  Cannot Cry

  I cannot cry

  I don’t know why


  but every time I try to

  no salty tears come to my eyes,


  just a jaded sight of you.

  It is no lie
I cannot cry


  and every time I want to


  I scruntch my face and curl my nose


  and think worse thoughts
and

  hold my breath.


  I cannot cry

  don’t ask me why;


  it doesn’t seem that normal


  that I should be the one with you

  after everything you put me through.


  You think I would have learned by now


  but you’re so wrong, you know,


  I cant even make the sound.


  I cannot cry

  I don’t know why


  when every time you fall through.

  Careless is the One

  Careless is the one

  whose heart lies beaten
on the floor.


  His love is dead.


  This is it and nothing more.


  Sadly sinking in moral’s boat,


  sorrow yanks him at the throat.


  And if his heart were in it’s chest,

  it would
be sinking with all the rest.


  But there it lies four feet in front


  to stare and condemn a misguided lust:

  “It was not I,” preaches the heart,

  “who caused this mess, more some other part.


  If you insist on ignoring me

  to obey the one
you use to pee,

  then be forewarned you will not
love,


  but lust and lust and lust and lust,


  and when your lusting all is done


  you’ll end up the lonely one.


  I will not stand it anymore.

  I’d rather stay out
on my own


  than be broken one more time


  by foolish wants and careless nights.”


  And then he sees his heart is talking.


  What is this, it must be joking! 


  “My heart can’t talk! I must be dreaming.”


  And so walks on the heartless man


  to see how long an empty chest will support


  his loveless life: a life without love
just sex sex sex.

  Change

  I was born with a perfect body.

  It’s through my own fault she is poisoned,


  doomed now to decay

  beyond the natural
course of this life we set out on.


  My body is now a host.


  An incubator of more than just my one mind.


  Her burden increased
is my sorrowful regret.


  And not being able to separate mind from
body,

  this disease is now part of me.


  I will die unrecognizable


  as the purer soul who
entered this world so long ago.


  To ask why is to curse our fate

  but the
question is begging
so on my knees
I cry.


  Would the sun not shine on me again?


  It’s more than a shadow. To the death I change.

  Dark Blue Planet

  Stop surrounded by the Earth


  Take in air that breathes like ice.

  Colossal feeling: that surge is pure.

  You lose control of it tonight.

  Step deep into the darkness,

  let the stars eyes see your way.

  You know the prayer you know the words

  so let it whisper through your veins.

  I can lose myself tonight


  on the surface of my mind.


  We can find the way together


  drifting close your world and mine.


  Let the sky set on the blue hill,

  leave the clouds out there to dry,

  when the water leaves the skyline

  I’ll climb the desert mountains high.

  See your gods they’re suffocating,


  choking on rebellion,

  begging now for you to save them;

  give them life or let them die.

  Stop surrounded in your madness.

  Think for a minute are you here?

  See your gods they’re up there drowning

  while we’re crumbling down here.


  And the Earth her breath is quiet

  and her pulse a deafening hum.


  Feel the rush don’t try to fight it.


  This is it. Your time has come.

  Stop surrounded by the Earth.


  Take in air that breathes like ice.

  Colossal feeling: that surge is pure.

  You lose control of it tonight.

  Forgotten Tree

  Fire killed my family.


  Burned them down
right to the ground.


  Fire killed twenty-seven of my siblings


  but it didn’t kill me.
I was not selected.

  Here I stand still and quiet.

  No whispering
around. There are no trees.

  There’s just me
and I am not fallen.


  I can barely breathe.


  I am not fallen.
I am a forgotten tree.


  The air I breathe is
cold and thick.

  When my roots
drink up Earth’s water,


  in my blood
I begin to feel sick.


  In my veins
I begin to feel ill.


  I could be here for ten more winters

  or I could be here for one more day.


  You never know just how it’s coming:

  wind,
chainsaw, fire, or age.


  I am old to those around me.


  Half of them will see next spring.


  I am ancient to the animals below me


  who come and go and eat and chase.


  I’ll be a ghost until I die.
I am a forgotten tree.

  Frost Bite

  Some old skinny tree


  stood alone
beside the street.

  Curving naked branches reached


  up to the sky,
up to the heat


  of the shining sun.


  But such a shining sun
was hiding


  behind a quilt of dark
grey clouds:

  reverse blanket for the

tree afraid of frost bite.

  Homesick

  I don’t like it here.

  I want to go home.

  Nothing’s familiar here.

  I want to go home.

  Things smell wrong here;

  It’s not like home.

  There’s only English beer.

  It’s not like home.

  I know there’s nothing to fear

  when I’m on my own,

  but I long for my friends
to be near

  when I’m alone.

  And things are different here.

  I want to go home.

  In the Attic

  The trick is to believe that it’s not even there
at all...


  Like some kind of biological lightening bolt

  it tears across your face as you cry,


  disappearing as it appeared,

  leaving you
wondering,
remembering,
sniffling in the attic.


  And still, in this house of dreary
white drapes, draping drawers, and draped
mirrors, it stabs through a thick, dusty
cloud, not disturbing
the
dangling widow.


  And tumbling from a chair,
just a push to the left,
an invisible cloud rolls over your senses,
sucking the breath from your lungs
as you try to inhale...


  Holding your nose won’t work –

  the trick is to believe it’s not even there
at all...

  Love is

  Don’t ignore your heart.

  Listen and you will hear


  all the things you’d never see


  with your eyes wide,
my dear.

  Don’t try to play your part


  as if in some Shakespeare
play,

  throwing tantrums
or driving lovers away.


  Love is a bird resting on your window sill:

  fleeting, yet in that moment a life fulfills.

  Merry-Go-Round

  What can I do


  when you’re on your merry-go-round

  but stand by and listen to the happy music?

  What can I do


  when you’re spinning round and round


  but stand by and worry about you,
about us, about life.


  Where can I look


  when you’re dizzy and dumb and grinning


  but to my lover
and to myself and to another?

  And when you finally stand firm on the
ground,

  you look around
and I am nowhere to be found.

  When you finally stand firm on the ground,
look around

  and I will be nowhere to be found.

  Midnight Fix

  Listen now baby

  Mamma’s going out to play.

  You’ll be alone now baby


  but I’ll come back ok?

  Mamma needs a fix now baby,

  a salty moonlight hit.


  Dream away the pain now baby,

  turn my poor blood blue.

  Early moonlight’s calling baby,


  calling me to come out and play.

  You’ll be alright without me baby


  while I trip the night away.

  As I