A Fool’S Moon

By Enid Aames

A Fool's Moon," is a collection of poems that were written between circa 2004 and 2006, when I was in my mid-to-late 20s. My work is mainly based on past life experiences that have affected me so greatly that they served as literary inspiration to me, for better or for worse. The book title itself is in reference to a poem that's included in my book, on page 78.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Mar 25, 2014
• ISBN: 9781493189441

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Copyright © 2014 by Enid Aames.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

Rev. date: 03/20/2014

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Contents

Thomas… Named For Generations

The Edge of the First Step

Potential Friend

A Mysterious Muse

To Begin To Want Him

Surge

Party Lights

Words Can Haunt

Oak & Evergreen

Regarding Teacher Dear

Taking a Second Guess

Someone of His Kind

Don’t Count On Me

A Body Language Comprehended

It’s Good That We’re Apart

Blossomed

Camera Shy

Once Shallow Breaths

A Family of Friends

Through Our Brains

Just Blocks Away

Last Time We’d Spoken

A Piece of Him

Poetic Seduction

No Longer Speak

Feline Surprise

Abominable

I Try To Stick Around

Eastern Autumn

A Flawed Angel

Unprepared

Out of Character

No Time

Cave of the Soul

Falling In Love Unromantically

Mouthful of Fire

Pulled

Only Open So Wide

Language Indications

Irresistable Fire

Once Married To Both

Breezy Appearance

Cat Crazy

Reserved

Anticipated Presence

Slept Between Times of Day

Kisses with His Eyes

A Handle on Life

Cross Between Arms

Drunk With Drama

Alleged Ridicule

An Exercise in Patience

Spontaneous Steps on King Street

I Believe That He’s Present

Movie Life

We Have the Chance

Note for Note

Tormented Birth

A Parade of Snow

From the Moment

Rain like This

A Fool’s Moon

For A Day

His Sweet Heart

Bits & Pieces

The Last Minute

Fire from the Storm

Wintering

Sky Sculpture

One in Black

White Wall

Stopping You

Suitable

What They’ve Survived

The Archer

Chopped the Noise

Pause

Taking Time

Truth about My Selfishness

Dark Cloud

Repellant

All Said & Done

Grows, Leaps, and Bounds

Playing Flute under the Bridge

Alarmed With Terror

Tap Dance

A Touching Moment

Where He Goes

Say Hello at the Shop

Bitch Eyes

His Own Masseuse

Petals in Air

Arms Spread Open

We Alone

Flooding the Floor

Leaving In Daylight

Wisdom of 33

George Owns Me

The Lady Illuminates

Our Lives Are a Dance

The Hidden Comedy

Where’s My Mirror

Portrait of a Shower

Eyes of the Heart

Focus On the Locust

Hours More

Life Is a Slow Death

The Opening

Saw the Blossom

An Immediate Date

To This Day

Seductions of the Mind

Adoration of Some Kind

He Found It Deadly

A Daring, Budding Relationship

I Owe Kitty a Stroke

Wasn’t You

Trapeze Squirrel

Something in the Air

Recurrent Spiders

The Foot of Land

Two Hep Cats Dancing

Shadows in Milky Evening

Your Heart Speaks To Mine

Not Always

New Year’s Eve 2004 At the Market

Something Boiling

Heart’s Coffin

Half-Awake

Polar Bear in the City

Opened Gate

Spilling a Drop

A Bouncing January Moon

Weary Of Battling

Unstable Domestic Style

Hot Doorknob

Irresistibly Touched

Favorite Candies

Dialogues Are For Simpler Minds

Strange Somnolent

Please Pardon My Error

A Flash of Warning

Drive Himself Mad

Drawbridge

Heaven of Actors

Thomas… Named For Generations

He haunts in a sneaky way.

His wild spirit creeps in terminal insomnia.

His name has been repeated-generations long,

a force driven in furious speed

like his carriage between the woods

of a dusky path down in rural Alabama.

What schemes lay un-hatched,

like gators’ eggs beneath his hat?

He’s kept, for too long,

a mental grip that strangles, like hands

about to choke a body slammed against a wall.

When he combated, there was no contest.

There is an unanswered mystery behind his name…

and his tree, whose ancient roots won’t enervate.

He’s aware of my knowledge,

though it’s on a surface only slightly scathed.

Our first contact was indirect.

The memory of the photo of