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Look Down, Fair Moon

LOOK down, fair moon, and bathe this scene;
Pour softly down night's nimbus floods, on faces ghastly, swollen,
purple;
On the dead, on their backs, with their arms toss'd wide,
Pour down your unstinted nimbus, sacred moon.

poem by Walt Whitman
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The Silvery Cloud

Her scholastic life set out
When she was enough old
Scalloped marge of a figure
She learnt it as a cloud

Cirrus it shaped
Fairly then up a height
Each day slender it whorled
Along her way white

Her heart afterward bore
Joy-cumulus of her emotional youth
High as the clouds high did she score
Amassed beauty cumulus all truth

Up and down in wedlock ocean
Stood she apart like a beacon-light
Tenebrous stratus or nimbus
She defied it as a nought

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poem by Indira Renganathan
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Super Moon disguised
Silver nimbus veils hide
magnetic powers

haiku by Monica Lorraine Taylor
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Nimbus is doing a great service with these excellently produced transformations of piano roll recordings.

quote by Harold Bauer
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Two-Faced Red Fox

Beneath the two layers of makeup
The scent of strawberry kiwi
The dazzling White river smile
And the romantic nimbus she wears
Is a hidden agenda

poem by Michael Fischer
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Night In Iowa

Nimbus clouds erasing stars above Lamoni.
Jaundiced lights. Silos. Loose dogs. Cows
whose stench infuses the handful of homes,
whose sad voices storm the plains with longing.

poem by Deborah Ager
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In Transit

A blind spot
was clinging on to earth.
Point of entry had
an eye against eye.

obsidian falls
unshaved. The guilt
of dawn was palpable.
A nimbus surrounds the pain.

A microdrone takes on
the spider. Diffusion of
hydrogen sulfide starts.
Don’t break the window.

Through my love, I touch
you on face with ashen fingers.
I step out from the hawk’s talons
into the prophecy.

poem by Satish Verma
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When You Say Yes To Me

when you say yes
to me
and i say
hurray!

ah! my world has become
my world and your world
has become my world too

the mountains move
the sun brightens and dances
the moon keeps on smiling
the stars keep on winking
the grasses fill the emptiness
the rivers sing
the seas keep on waving
the clouds are not nimbus

ah! whatever that be
i know, that our world shall be

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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Buncefield: The Memory Depot

The roof of dreams crashed on my head,
up-puppeting me to an ash dawn
as my window-frames St.Vitus danced.
By breakfast it was World News
as sidelong the raven plume
smeared like the mane of a scarlet Astarte...
the Marseillaise who lured me,
a virgin, Magellan-bearded,
from her stall of Henry Miller in St.Albans market.
For two nights, smoke-nimbus cast
rust and grisaille
like the pupil of an eye across a waning moon.

poem by Richard George
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For Frankie

My words are taller
Your native canes cannot reach them

So you always say
You misunderstand me
My murmur
You mishear as my sole reason
For waking up from cubic morning
To the edge
Of twilight

Perhaps you miss
The light burning in the middle
Of your forehead

As old woman
You’re taller as I am
Even when I stand and look up
I see the nimbus bursting
In the dark

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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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