Taste Sorrow Of The Moon
© Surazeus
2026 07 18

If I stand outside in hot evening rain
I can almost taste sorrow of the moon
sweet as honey on peanut-buttered toast,
but when gods of ancient societies
arrive with tablets and bottles of wine,
we dance all night to celebrate true love.

I hear soft voice of sorrow in gray mist
when young Theneva, pregnant with disgrace,
arrives on boat of wisdom on my shore,
so I give shelter to the wounded girl
whose father hurled her from cliff of despair
then cast her adrift on indifferent seas.

How far across the swirling sea of hope
must I sail bravely in frail ship of faith
to find lost homeland of lush Ithaca
where prim Penelope in ribboned gown
weaves tapestry depicting noble deeds
of warriors fighting for security.

All questions about nature of this world
have compiled code of wisdom in fraught verse
recording ancient wisdom of wise fools
who proffered answers about how things are,
so I lounge mindlessly on my back porch,
plucking rusty strings on my old guitar.

Though Achilles, gone mad with grief of loss,
destroyed the city full of families
to rescue Helen from towers of love,
Odysseus sailed against obsessive hate
past obstacles of fear and bitter pride
to restore the city where his wife rules.

With baskets on arms of companionship,
we gather strawberries, mushrooms, and eggs,
along with lavender and eglantine,
from sun-drenched meadows of sweet innocence,
till we find Theneva wounded on grass,
so we bear her to cave of healing care.

Now that I know name of that faceless ghost
who haunts my backyard after the sun sets,
I translate voice of thunder in wild rain
to analyze state of the human mind
processing global conflicts with old myths
that celebrate the hero who goes home.

Though we seem lost in rugged hills of mist,
wise Wotadinus raises wand of truth
and calls our names so we may follow close
attentive journey of his earnest quest
to build safe home with walls of honest stone
where sweet Theneva may tend apple trees.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/07/…

Orpheus writes tale of Theneva on parchment with angel blood as ink as she dictates story of her journey to found the holy city of Glasgow.

#Poetry #Poem #Pastoral #Necropastoral #MetaModernism #Transrealism #NewSublimity #NewRomanticism #AmericanDream #Cinemism #Existentialism #Surrealism #NegativeCapability #NewGnosticism #MetaRealism #NewTranscendentalism #Astarism