Are different species able to communicate clearly and concisely with each other? – perhaps through an empathetical voice (as it seems most people rarely hear them.
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‘Under the Light of the Midnight Moon’
Under the light
of the Midnight Moon,
A Racoon asked a Loon,
“Have you seen my spoon?”
And the Loon said, “No.“
There once was a forest upon the Moon
that flourished for a while
but vanished too soon;
a realm of trees upon her face,
a woodland there in outer space.
.
And all the creatures of the trees
lived happily, life was a breeze;
swinging through the branches high
the monkeys laughed, and then did cry;
for, when the forest realm could not rebirth,
they all fell, back down to Earth.
Everything under the sun,
must mean everything;
but, what about when the Sun goes off to bed?
Everything under the Moon?
But, the Moon isn’t always there
when the Sun is off getting some shut-eye
So, when the Sun and the Moon
are off wherever they go to at night,
is there anything left?
boBeep: Hello, boBob!
boBob: Hello, boBeep!
boBeep: Where are you going to in such a hurry?
boBob: I am going to the Moon!
boBeep: The Moon?
boBob: Yes, The Moon!
boBeep: How are you getting to the Moon?
boBob: I’ve got a ticket!
boBeep: A ticket?
boBob: Yes! A ticket to the Moon.
boBeep: Oh… I’d like a ticket to the Moon.
boBob: I’ve got a spare one.
boBeep: A spare one? A spare ticket to the Moon?
boBob: Yes. I had a voucher for a BOGOF offer.
boBeep: A ‘BOGOF’ offer? For a ticket to the Moon?
boBob: Yes. I bought one ticket for the Moon, and they gave me another ticket for the Moon free.
boBeep: Free? A free ticket for the Moon?
BoBob: Well, I had to buy the first ticket, so not really ‘free’.
boBeep: Oh. How much was ‘your’ ticket?
boBob: My ticket was free.
boBeep: So, my ticket would have been at the same price?
boBob; You wish.
NB any similarities between Eccles and Bluebottle are purely of my own fault. G:)
“How Big is the Moon?”
.
The sky was so big,
the moon so small,
yellow and ridged
like a lone tennis ball
“It’s made of cheese!”
I heard someone say,
and that made my night
as it sometimes makes my day.
The Moon in May –
though not in June,
as old songs would say –
its light shining down
and showing the way.
“How big is the Moon?”
‘Quite big.’ I’d say.
Moon Over Looe.
That Moon,
over Looe,
blue, slim
with edge thin;
lost, bold, cold;
what else?
Cool dude,
nude, rude,
spin away?
Ne’er! Stay!
That Moon,
over Looe,
seen.
I’ve bought a little allotment,
an acre on the Moon,
peaceful, quiet (though the soil is none too good);
I haven’t actually been there,
I hope to get there soon.
The Moon stayed at home, tonight;
we couldn’t see her corporeal light,
the sky was dark
stars didn’t shine,
and everyone went to bed at nine.
She asked a boon,
“Could I have the Moon,
upon a bed of lettuce?”
I, thought once,
thought twice;
and gave her the Moon
on a colourful bed of rainbow rice.
Not what she wanted,
but almost as nice.
The Moon
above the trees
fluttering in the breeze –
the Moon, not the trees –
in the Lunar Wind blew away;
the tides all stopped that day.
Graeme Sandford 