Red Star
“Fly me to that red star,
the one outside the window.”
Teddy’s voice droned
its mosquito in my ear,
but made no sense.
“I’ll try,” Owl said.
I hadn’t noticed him there,
snuggled in beside me.
“That’s not a star,” I said.
“It’s a planet, Mars.
It’s in conjunction with Venus,
that other bright blob.”
Owl flapped his wings
and flew out of the window.
Up and up he went
until he faded out of sight.
“He’s gone,” said Teddy.
“He’ll never come back.”
But return he did and
“A star too far,” he said,
as he pulled up the blankets
and snuggled into bed.
“It’s not a star,” I said,
but my words were ignored
by the snores emerging from
two nodding, sleepy heads.
rogermoorepoet 
A story
Everybody would like to listen 🙂 🍸
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I really like this, Roger! Glad you are feeling better…
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Very different: a happy poem and one that disavows the flu totally. The narrative is something I usually use in prose, rather than poetry. Glad it works for you.
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It is happy! I liked the format of the piece. It felt like the brain on a the mend from a bad fever…the return journey…lol
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I thin kit was just that. It was very different in the journal and then kept getting reduced to the barest of narratives.
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I like this one, because it’s just as beautiful as always, but it’s a bit easier, if that makes sense? It’s the kind of poem that a child could appreciate, as well as an adult.
It’s calm and familiar, like a very short and pretty bedtime story. Well done!
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It’s my getting over the flu poem combined with fly me to the moon (planet / star in this case). It is a narrative poem, rather than one stuffed with metaphors. That probably makes it easier to read: the story line definitely helps. So glad you like it.
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Oh! How much sense it makes with the backstory!
I guess I’m extra fond of it because I’m not so good with metaphors(or sayings or proverbs and stuff like that). I like your poems so much because I can imagine so beautiful pictures when reading them, but I’m doing it sentence by sentence, detail by detail, and often miss the big picture. But I could keep up with this one 🙂
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The big picture (narrative) often contrasts with the smaller pictures (the metaphors). Metaphors are ‘difficult’ because they create pictures within the reader’s head and each of those pictures is individual to each reader. If you, the reader, try to link them to what is in my mind, you will find it is impossible to do so because you only have the words on the page and not my whole thought process. However, you have your own thought process and the spark of the metaphor will light the flame of your own memories (not mine!), if the metaphor is successful. This ‘living reality’, transferred to the reader, is what gives metaphor its power. So: my advice is, don’t worry about what I am writing when I write with metaphors, think more about how the metaphor sparks free associations within your own mind. The power of poetry is not in the narrative, it is in the images you provide your own mind from your own experience, provoked and goaded by the metaphor.
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Incredibly well said! This is the reason I like your poetry so much! Thank you!
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