stdClass Object
(
    [ID] => 5341
    [post_author] => 7
    [post_date] => 2014-08-12 17:28:30
    [post_date_gmt] => 2014-08-12 17:28:30
    [post_content] => It begins a comedy, a pocket-sized calamity,
as eye and lens turn to sky, and there,
fuzzed and haloed, sallow and pale,
the moon shrinks in its socket.

Slowly, slyly each night,
It wisps to cobwebs, fizzes to ash,
No longer the prize opal,
but a synapse in the empty sheath of stars.

And the spectacle turns sour,
As NASA project images across still seas:
a sphere of marbled blue and white,
draped in black, and very much alone.

And gradually, the word salutes,
it’s newly deceased companion,
with arrays of artificial, clammy oranges,
icy whites, each night,
that burn too small a hole, in the darkness.

A slow tragedy, as grandparents tell,
of the lantern that lit their nights,
of the mythical onion that shed,
slice by slice, skin by skin,
visibly and vulnerably,
into history.
    [post_title] => Moon
    [post_excerpt] => 
    [post_status] => publish
    [comment_status] => closed
    [ping_status] => closed
    [post_password] => 
    [post_name] => moon
    [to_ping] => 
    [pinged] => 
    [post_modified] => 2016-11-24 18:26:39
    [post_modified_gmt] => 2016-11-24 18:26:39
    [post_content_filtered] => 
    [post_parent] => 0
    [guid] => http://poetrysociety.org.uk.gridhosted.co.uk/?post_type=poems&p=5341
    [menu_order] => 0
    [post_type] => poems
    [post_mime_type] => 
    [comment_count] => 0
    [filter] => raw
    [meta_data] => stdClass Object
        (
            [wpcf-published-in] => 
            [wpcf-date-published] => 2014
            [wpcf-summary-description] => This poem was a runner-up in the Cape Farewell Challenge #1 on Young Poets Network (YPN) in 2014.

The theme for the first challenge was disappearance. What happens when something disappears? Will it come back in another form or is it gone for good? What would you least like to disappear? Or what, perhaps, would you most like to disappear? Climate change and growing industrialisation is bringing many changes to our environments, such as loss of habitat, and the disappearance of whole glaciers bringing rising sea levels which threaten whole communities and species.
            [wpcf-rights-information] => 
            [wpcf-poem-award] => Runner-up, Cape Farewell Challenge #1 2014
            [wpcf_pr_belongs] => 
        )

    [poet_data] => stdClass Object
        (
            [ID] => 1768
            [forename] => Natasha
            [surname] => Keary
            [title] => Natasha Keary
            [slug] => natasha-keary
            [content] => Natasha Keary's poem 'Moon' was commended in the Cape Farewell/Poetry Society's SWITCH: Youth Poetics Year 2.  She is a winner of Young Poets Network challenges including  'Censorship' and the Cape Farwell 'Vanishing' challenge.
        )

)
stdClass Object
(
    [ID] => 1768
    [forename] => Natasha
    [surname] => Keary
    [title] => Natasha Keary
    [slug] => natasha-keary
    [content] => Natasha Keary's poem 'Moon' was commended in the Cape Farewell/Poetry Society's SWITCH: Youth Poetics Year 2.  She is a winner of Young Poets Network challenges including  'Censorship' and the Cape Farwell 'Vanishing' challenge.
)

Moon

Natasha Keary

It begins a comedy, a pocket-sized calamity,
as eye and lens turn to sky, and there,
fuzzed and haloed, sallow and pale,
the moon shrinks in its socket.

Slowly, slyly each night,
It wisps to cobwebs, fizzes to ash,
No longer the prize opal,
but a synapse in the empty sheath of stars.

And the spectacle turns sour,
As NASA project images across still seas:
a sphere of marbled blue and white,
draped in black, and very much alone.

And gradually, the word salutes,
it’s newly deceased companion,
with arrays of artificial, clammy oranges,
icy whites, each night,
that burn too small a hole, in the darkness.

A slow tragedy, as grandparents tell,
of the lantern that lit their nights,
of the mythical onion that shed,
slice by slice, skin by skin,
visibly and vulnerably,
into history.