Red Moon Aloft

HChristian74

By: Hunter Christian 

She danced alone
In the parlor of a centuries old manor
In the wash of a red moon aloft
As she whispered on a wind so soft
The words hung in solemnity
Upon the face of a red moon aloft
Glued steadfast to the firmament


Alas the Spring rains came
So the children sang happily
And their parents clapped and smiled
Nothing feels happier -
Than the contentment of a child
No matter how cosmopolitan
Or mired in impoverishment
The wealthy lived aside their servants
Living quarters could not lessen the blood
Nor mansion or shanty
Nor color of skin
A child's laughter is honesty's purest form
Latch the shutters
Ride out the storm


With adulthood honesty wanes
Like a new moon
Truth evanesces to the wayside
The lost innocence of a virgin bride
The ebb and the flow of a drowning high tide
Warmth by day
Frigid by night
The lost letters lost amidst lost sight
Awash in a red moon aloft


Red beams advance like warriors on teak floors
Kaleidoscopic are the windowpanes
Dancing erotica with aged wooden doors
Creaking, creaky, hinges howl in agony
Drapery draped in crimson gluttony
The red goes as red does; cracking open nightscape
Shafts of shadow red roll with her in bed suddenly
The warriors escape defeat through doors agape


Red moon aloft takes measure
Measuring its canvas for leisure, for pleasure
Haunted the empty parlors sit
The heartbreak of a man she could not, would not quit
Flickering flames in the parlor that’s dimly lit
As she opened her wrists lying vulnerable upon an aged chaise
To the red moon full she cast a longing gaze


When the red moon aloft came calling
She danced again like she danced before
Crimson blood to the teak floors went falling
Slammed shut we're the aged wooden doors
She was barely twenty-three
The night the red moon aloft came to set her free


But stand in the parlor, in the mansion, on West Parkland Street
Listen for the delicate rhythm of dancing feet
Upon old teak floors, in tune with the harmony of creaking doors
And the red moon aloft


Hear she whisper on a wind so soft,
"Dance with me one last time my love, before the final time in my life, I bid you adieu, and see you off".


Crimson washed away decades ago
New owners came, owned, then bequeathed away the home
All the while she danced - she danced in defiance
She danced with love; but most of all - she danced alone


Crack hard did the whip as hard and cold bludgeoned the stone
Footprints delicately danced into crimson - as she danced alone.

 

 

 

  • Author: HChristian74 (Offline Offline)
  • Published: October 16th, 2017 01:15
  • Category: Unclassified
  • Views: 24
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Comments1

  • Heather T

    This is a buffet of imagery. The repetitions are haunting, nearly musical. HC, is this piece grounded in any actual history?

    • HChristian74

      Thank you for reading and for the thoughtful feedback. As far as I am aware, no actual historical events are represented in this piece, yet I will admit, many historical elements influenced it.

      ~HC



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