UnderTheWildMoon

Writer, Photographer, Farmer Mom

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Diamonds by UnderTheWildMoon, literature

Moments Dressed in Snowflakes by UnderTheWildMoon, literature

Literature

Moments Dressed in Snowflakes

My pup by my side, the neighbours cat watching quietly, He gently whines to remind me the snow is cold on his paws, and all the while the smell of freshly baked shortbread tickles my nose. Snowflakes flutter like migrating butterflies and dust my eyelashes with confectioner's sugar. Each strand of hair that usually flows freely about my face wriggles in the wind like a poor fly ensnared in a spider's web. My breath cascades over my lips in a fanciful dance, etching my dreams into the crisp morning air as my lungs revel in the vacation from humid breaths. The tenderly lit Christmas Fir paints pictures in the frosty window, while boots not

Baby Blue by UnderTheWildMoon, literature

Literature

Baby Blue

I expected I'd look out across the sea and see him there on the horizon, waving back at me like the mirror image of myself on a distant star, wondering if I 'm looking back, but it didn't happen that way. We found each other in a mutual drowning and hung on for dear life, lost in each other's eyes and dreams of baby blue. Why not a boy? A sun in a son, a light in dirt and grass stained shirts and blue jeans. Blue jeans he just got that don't fit anymore like the only silence that doesn't fit us now.

Maple by UnderTheWildMoon, literature

Aurora Borealis by UnderTheWildMoon, literature

Literature

Aurora Borealis

Not unlike the dancing sky my memories of you are lit with emerald spirits and recollections dotted with stars and the sparkle in your eyes. I have fallen for your smile in the moonlight each night it has peered through the crease of the curtains and illuminated your face as you dream. I dream of us beneath the Northern Lights as one with eachother as the sky to its stars, it's clouds, its swirling confetti of magical rain that never leaves our view. I dream of you and envelop myself in the blanket of your scent, watching you sleep, listening to the snow (like the night) melt away.

World a box by UnderTheWildMoon, literature

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Dandelion by UnderTheWildMoon, literature

Literature

Dandelion

My head has been swimming in the dandelion breeze, seeking earth and truth and something to hold onto. Cast before the wind and sea to journey beyond the horizons and the limitations I set for myself, I spread my leaded wings and learn to breathe water, returning to my amniotic beginnings when life was simpler (and I could hear Mother's heart beat). Though I couldn't hear clearly, my destiny was raw and I fought to grow instead of fighting growing old; I learned to breathe instead of learning not to suffocate beneath the gravity of life; I bloomed as the dandelion sang and set loose fairies full of pla

Dandelion

UnderTheWildMoon

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Fall, Dreaming, Into the Mountains by UnderTheWildMoon, literature

Literature

Fall, Dreaming, Into the Mountains

I find my dreams there, on the river's bend, beneathe the changing leaves. Sweater weather, barefoot, line sitting in the back eddy (there are no snags here). Off in the distance cows grazing fading fields without swishing tails, goats peeling thistle leaves with not a bug to stomp off; children flipping rocks and playing with sticks. Husband has his eye on a buck in velvet drinking down the way; he's nice but, maybe next year. Fish on.

The Last Day by UnderTheWildMoon, literature

Literature

The Last Day

The memories of my father are sparse, but vivid and they play back in my mind like old reel footage in High Definition. His hair was the cherry of the crushed red velvet interiors of old travel vans, soft and shiny, but it was sewn with the colour of the rich brown dirt I find in my pig pen. I remember the outline of his eyes under non-descript truckstop sunglasses, the deeper blue of the sweat rim on his mesh-backed ball cap, the way his curls billowed like smoke (held suspended in time) from beneath it; I remember his brutish hands, large knuckled and weathered from years of abuse (or arthritis), the gifted Grey Cup ring upon his finge

War Flag by UnderTheWildMoon, literature

Diamonds by UnderTheWildMoon, literature

Fairies by UnderTheWildMoon, literature

Shut up and listen by UnderTheWildMoon, literature

Mercy by UnderTheWildMoon, literature

Literature

Mercy

I stood out in the cold and watched the Milky Way cry like a new mother cries when her first child is slow to take a breath and begin life. And I wondered: Are these our last breaths or our first? I thought about how beautiful the Earth was around me, even in the darkness, and if she was merciful. Would she see the good in my heart and spare me, or would she clamp down on me like a mosquito who had been caught sucking the blood from her thigh... As I returned to the warmth of my home, I considered the cool air caught in my chest. I hoped if she wasn't merciful, I had earned mercy enough to exhale one last time and remember the sensation

Moments Dressed in Snowflakes by UnderTheWildMoon, literature

Literature

Moments Dressed in Snowflakes

Upon Pondering Life and Love by UnderTheWildMoon, literature

Ode to a Grain Elevator by UnderTheWildMoon, literature

Literature

Ode to a Grain Elevator

Silence begets beauty and the view of a thousand acre sea of gold. Even when the days are grey, a beacon within expanse shall you be and a refuge for the owls. Tell me, does your dust give comfort to your mice as it does my mind? You do not lean in the great prairie winds, weathered by the pummeling rain and hail, dressed by the sweet white winter. The name aside your walls to you a memory, to me a location of no significance, really, but you wouldn't understand as I don't understand your will to stand tall. Though abandoned in farmer's field, with every bird you shelter, every creak and moan, you smile on the knowledge you see the most be

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About UnderTheWildMoon

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Artist // Hobbyist // Literature

Mar 9, 1986
Canada
Deviant for 13 years
Steadfast Farm
She / Her

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My Bio

My pen name is Penelope Hawthorn.

I once was and am again. Maybe you will find an old friend here, if you look hard enough.

Perhaps you will enjoy what you find, and I hope you will stay if you do.

Favourite Writers

Robert Frost; Yeats; Dr. Suess

Favourite Gaming Platform

PS3 or PC

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UnderTheWildMoon

Oct 24, 2014

Endlessly Hollow

0 min read

That moment when you realize:    The muse is gone.  You will never write again.

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UnderTheWildMoon

Dec 7, 2012

Prompt me - An update

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I wrote last year here, and that was the end of it -- I never updated. I ended up published.  I didn't win that contest I entered, however of several thousand entries I was in the top 200.  The book I'm featured in is currently still available online, however limited the quantities.  Send a note if you'd like to know where to purchase. I've found a lot of sadness in my life recently, and it's brought back dark poetry that comes and goes; I hate it all.  However, I must write through it. Provide me a creative prompt as a reply to this journal entry if you wish to try to help me out of my funk and I'll see what I can come up with, if anythin

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UnderTheWildMoon

Aug 4, 2011

Twisters and pulling peas - Opportunities and time

0 min read

My apologies for the absence and for the lack of response to things.  I'm mostly caught up now, however to my writers, I'm still behind on your stuff as I want to take the time the deserve.  I'll get to them I promise. Part of my away period is due to life.  I'm waiting on Provincial Disaster assistance to approve or deny my claim.  The adjuster came in and told me it was the worst foundation he's ever seen under a house that's still standing -- it has only gotten worse since he's been gone.  I hope they get back to me soon. In addition to all that, we had a twister roll through about an eighth of a mile north of me.  It tore apart a farm,