I’m working on a book of poetry, called one pass by. The theme of the book is one trip of the Moon through the lunar cycle, with the Moon as the protagonist of each poem. She’s speaking directly to the reader or just thinking out loud. They’re musings about the moods and experiences that come up each month, as Luna aspects the other planetary bodies in our solar system.
Our moon travels around the entire ecliptic (faster than any of the other, traditional planets) in roughly 29 days. That means She regularly conjoins (meets) all the other Planets, as well as forming what astrology calls aspects with them, such as sextile, square, trine and opposition. Each of these angles prompts a different type of energy. Making sense of how these aspects affects us is a big part of what serious astrologers do.
In astrology, the word planet comes from the Greek, meaning “wanderer”. So yes, the Sun (Sol) and the Moon (Luna) are each a proper Planet (capitalized P, for respect), even though they are not planets, in the astronomical sense.
In mythology, each of the Planets are ascribed as being the same energy or archetype of a particular God or Goddess. Our versions are named after the Roman Deities and correspond quite closely to their Greek counterparts.
In essence, these poems are the Goddess Luna, on her monthly travels around Earth and Sol, the Sun. She’s talking about Her experiences with each of them, telling us the story of what can usually be expected, when She bumps into the other Gods in some way.
Each piece is written in lowercase, including the proper names, such as Saturn and Jupiter. This is a stylistic choice and nothing else. I probably read too much e.e. cummings and I’m just plain weird like that.
People who understand basic astrology will probably get a deeper meaning of each piece. However, they’re written simply enough that those with no astrological background can still get the gist of what’s happening and follow the stories.
The Moon is representative of many things and the easiest of these to grasp right away is emotions. Where the Moon is and how She is interacting with the other bodies out there determines a huge amount of what wee feel, collectively and individually.
This piece is about when Luna occupies the same bit of space as the Planet Saturn, who is the Lord of Time, restriction, boundaries, limitations, duty, architecture, crops (to some degree), geology, slavery and prisons. He also rules over contracts and institutions, especially in their more complex, bureaucratic and byzantine forms.
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And now, I give you…
one of my least favorite bits
and each of us admits
jaws clench and grind
dutifully, as we try
to respect the old man;
but it crumbles, our plan
when near him, you find
you want to curl up in a ball and cry
i try hard to explain
in a language, most plain
my thoughts and feelings
and my needs, most dear
from his bed, every time,
of gravel, dirt and lime,
grumbles that these dealings
he just doesn’t care to hear
the only thing that i can say
of our meetings that’s okay
is that beside him, i discover
i seem to have the uncanny knack
for putting self into order,
defining clearly the border
between this, that and the other;
and it helps me to pick up the slack
but it’s tiresome work
for he’s a bit of a jerk
to be honest, he’s no fun
and no one really likes him
but as guardian, it’s clear
he inspires much fear,
so much so, that no one
ever dare strike him
into whatever room
floats our cloud of gloom,
they sit up straight and quick
and all take a somber notice
the vibe becomes serious
no drunk smiles, delirious
like jesus hitting you with a stick
or buddha, with a lead-filled lotus
folks get down and back to working
time for labor, not lurking
and he’s carefully checking
everyone’s to-do, check lists
if they’ve missed a thing or two,
as we all often do,
their rear ends, he’s wrecking;
his motivation-boot, it assists
my heavy heart hurts
at each weight he asserts;
the sad details he shows me
of the most dreary, depressing issues
though i attempt to retreat,
our little dates aren’t complete
until he calls me a baby and throws me
a box of camel-hair tissues
copyright 2020 Kevin Trent Boswell
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