[RCL]

A Sirius Romance

She’s Nature’s art in full disgrace
beginning with her longing face.
Below her bangs the eyebrows mate,
her eyes are runny, teeth like slate.
Her ears, unlike smooth tiny seashells,
swing a lot like misshaped cowbells.
Her twitching nose is ski-slope long
and never has inspired a song.
With lips severely under-drawn
and tongue that yaps from dusk to dawn,
with sour breath to make one reel,
this is one gal no one would steal.
But I’m a pooch who loves her smile
when we’re romancing doggy style.

[Martin Elster]

That's really good, Ralph. I enjoyed it.

Cosmic Canines

Two dogs, one large as Jupiter,
the other small as Mercury,
dance gravitationally round
a star we call the Now.

As solar winds whip past their fur,
they gambol through the galaxy,
glee plain as tongues and tail-wags, sound
of woofs, and breaths of wow.

Immersed within the quantum whir,
they move with such agility,
they make a light beam look earthbound,
and teach with every bow

how, lost in a ray of timeless play,
to romp and revel in today.


Tweak: The penultimate line was: "lost in the rays"

[Martin Elster]

After Studying the Hubble Ultra-Deep Field

(Rondeau Redoublé)

“Once upon a time, faint lumps of light—
coiled bluish millipede, plump tawny snail—
each formed of scores of flames, whose rays took flight
soon after the Bang, appeared exquisite and frail

as spores,” you muse as you tramp along this trail
through oak and hickory filtering the might
of the low-slung sun. You’re lost in a fairy tale
of once-upon-a-time, as flecks of light

wink softly from radio towers on the height
like fireflies sparking the dusk. A fingernail
of moon appears while, beyond a long-winged kite,
coiled bluish millipede, plump tawny snail—

invisible as viruses—glide and sail
on waves of ion seas. How did the night,
beyond a jet plane’s woolly water tail,
form multitudes of flames whose rays took flight?

You suddenly catch sight of a wary white-
tailed doe and her fawns, which follow without fail
as without fail the world became just right,
just right for a bang, a bang zapping the frail

and exquisite, as exquisite as the pale
but darkening skyline. Somewhere out of sight
a hoot owl harmonizes with the wail
of air-raid sirens. Things were looking bright
once upon a time.

[Martin Elster]

Betelgeuse

The red giant Betelgeuse is the dimmest seen in years, prompting some speculation that the star is about to explode.
—National Geographic

The stars of Orion are not the same
**as they were a few months ago,
for his right hand has dimmed so much
**you scarcely see its glow.
Yes, Betelgeuse, the supergiant
**lighting up the sky,
has lost its luster, barely noticed
**by the naked eye.

Yet still it’s so immensely bloated,
**if swapped with our own star,
it would eat Earth, Mars and Jupiter
**like a bear at a salad bar.
When Father Time soon gives the order
**to explode, so shall it,
glittering like a glockenspiel
**struck by a metal mallet.

In a hundred thousand years—or now—
**whenever it takes place,
it will be brighter than the moon,
**and all the human race
will watch in awe an event that happened
**in the middle ages
of a well-upholstered gaseous blob
**that’s gone through its life stages.

But if tonight that cosmic whale
**so pale now in Orion
spews its seed of elements
**like the floss of a dandelion
to make more suns and worlds and life
**(akin to me, in fact),
I’d feel as high as the moon itself
**to catch it in the act.

[Martin Elster]

This one is not about a particular planet, but an Italian philosopher. A supporter of the heliocentric Copernican view of the solar system, envisaging an infinite universe of numerous worlds moving in space, he was tried by the Inquisition for heresy and burned at the stake.

Giordano Bruno (1548-1600)

Folks reckoned the Earth is so rare
that the rest of all space must be bare
**and empty of creatures,
**but among all their teachers
one asserted what most wouldn’t dare.

That philosopher’s surname was Bruno.
His claim? We’re not numero uno
**and each star is a sun—
**that there’s not merely one
but bajillions!—a thing we now do know?

But for a heretical scholar,
it could be quite risky to holler
**that we’re not the hub
**of existence, ’cause, bub,
you will blaze from your shoes past your collar.

(Appeared in The Asses of Parnassus.)

[Martin Elster]

Meditation on a Twilight Union

Luminous, numinous,
Venus and Jupiter
triangle-set with a
**scimitar moon:
soon they’ll descend into
invisibility;
stars will appear and the
**crickets will croon.

Vega, Arcturus, and
countless bright crystals will
quiver the heavens and
**dazzle the eye.
Journey your eyes to the
phantasmagorical
reaches of space and your
**spirit might fly!

Alpha Centauri, Ca-
nopus, Capella: stars
incontrovertibly
**gave us all birth;
Ponder the chill of deep
space, though, your mind will then
unhesitatingly
**kiss Mother Earth!

[Martin Elster]

I reposted this poem ("Sol Concealed") in Post #92.

[Martin Elster]

Neil Armstrong (1930-2012)

You could fly while still growing and green,
could repair any flying machine
**by your twenties, and tested
**new rocket planes, crested
the clouds in your bright X-15.

In due course, you were picked for Apollo
(undreamed of by falcon or swallow)
**to land on the moon,
**and to do it quite soon
so the Commies could no more than follow.

You touched the moon’s hide, took a stride,
spoke of steps and of leaps, then all pride
**disappeared as you turned
**toward your planet and learned
that your thumb is precisely as wide!

(Appeared in The Society of Classical Poets.)

[Martin Elster]

An Affinity with Infinity

Views on the universe flit round like bats
inside my head. It seems I even dream
of planets and ETs, savor the cream
of nebulae on the Milky Way. The rats
of science brood about the fact that cats
can be alive and dead at once, a beam
of light be waves and particles. Why deem
my cosmic place like dogs asleep on mats?
Though comfortable on Earth (at least somewhat)
I daydream about being on a crew
of rovers zipping fast as light. Though told
that isn’t possible, I am a sot,
drunk on the kaleidoscopic hue
of suns that made both bat and marigold.

[F.F. Teague]

Ralph's back. Hooray! And what a great poem; it made me chuckle all the way through :-)

Martin, your dog (I almost typed 'god') sounds like a real character. Have you ever written any dog poetry? Thanks for the additional info. re. Sirius. I know a couple who named their house 'Sirius'; initially I thought they'd called it 'Serious', silly me.

Your poem 'The Dog Star' made me laugh. I like limericks. The rhyme scheme of 'Cosmic Canines' is very effective, I think. Well, it's all good. I'm sorry I haven't written anything new for a while; I'm a bit tied up with work at the moment, but I might be slightly less busy next week :-)

Best wishes,
Fliss