Mark Scrivener Poetry Blog No 93 Phases

PHASES

This poem, originally for younger readers, explains the phases of the moon. Poetry, I believe, can also present facts but it does so in a more livingly imaginative way. Dry, cold facts appeal to some but in essence they have no human warmth.

The metre is composed mostly of variations on the Choriamb ( STRESSED, unstressed, unstressed, STRESSED). For example - HIGH through the SKY or My WAXing means GROWing.

Note re Twenty-nine are the days- strictly speaking- As the Sun sets, the Moon rises with the side that faces Earth fully exposed to sunlight..The Moon has phases because it orbits Earth, which causes the portion we see illuminated to change. The Moon takes 27.3 days to orbit Earth, but the lunar phase cycle (from new Moon to new Moon) is 29.5 days. from Google. 

            PHASES

High through the sky
Forever I fly,
Cries the white moon,
Sighing her tune.

When I am new,
I'm hiding from you;
Like a seed's birth,
Lying in earth.

My waxing means growing;
So comes my first sign:
Curved slice of shine;
Thin, crescent moon's glowing.

First quarter means
Half my face shows;
White are my beams,
A half circle glows.

Then night after night,
I grow and I grow,
Shining my light
On dark earth below.

Ascending the sky,
I shine through the leaves;
Gliding on high,
I shine on the trees.

Sparkling on waves,
I ride through the sky;
I shine into caves
Where wild winds sigh.

At more than half bright;
As gibbous I'm known;
Strong is my light,
The night is my own.

And when I grow round
Then full is my face;
I shine all around
And light every place.

I gleam on night's dew
With pale, silver light;
I light the dark view,
Shining full-bright.

Then waning my light
Is dying away;
As night after night,
I glide on my way.

The last quarter means
My shine is half gone;
Still bright are my beams
As I keep shining on.

Until I remain
Only sickle of shine;
A crescent again,
Fading with time.

Till every last ray
Is gone from your sight;
I'm hidden away,
Concealed in the night.

Once more I'll grow
Just like a smile;
New crescent's glow,
Westward awhile.

Yes, I'll grow once more,
That is quite sure-
Twenty-nine are the days
Of my changing phase.

High through the sky,
Forever I fly,
Cries the white moon,
Sighing her tune.