Saturday, January 30, 2010

This is a legend, real or imagined, from the depth of the human psyche. It could be a story that you’ve heard, or are capable of conceiving, unassisted, as you, child of the universe, ponder your small place among the prominent features our vast space, distant and close.

Later on as night fell
A Southern cloud
The size of Loveland
Stood between the Moon
And a brooding child…
His grandma had often said:
‘Son of my son,
When you grow old
We’ll get you wed
To Lady Moon.
For now', she added,

'Let her be just a friend.'


Ali H. Raddaoui. In Larmie, on this 29 night of January 2010.


Abigail Blue Jay Stone said...

Hello Ali,
I am writing to say I enjoyed reading your poetry. It has a beautiful feeling to it. I noticed you got a spam message and were so polite when you responded to it, that I thought I would leave you a real message and tell you that someone out there read your work and liked it. Sincerely, Abigail

Ali H Raddaoui said...

Thank you so much for your kind words and for 'correcting' somebody else's conduct by leaving your message on my blog as a comment on the interaction with the spammer. The world is a composite of everything, I guess, including spammers, but they should should learn to find 'cleaner' ways of polluting polluted spaces. They are in a way people whose behavior we don't like, but it's all about coexistence, without injury. So we'll see. I like how you word response, saying it is 'a real message', but I will add it's also a caring one. Thank you loads.