[Martin Elster]

Thanks, Fliss. A house named Sirius? Were they serious? I'm pleased you liked "The Dog Star" and "Cosmic Canines" and I appreciate your saying the rhyme scheme works for that one. Thanks also for reading all those others.

"My dog is a real character" is a huge understatement. I have, indeed, written a lot of dog poetry. My first big project, in fact, was writing a whole book of them, mostly limericks but also other forms in iambic meter. After about three years, I got enough material for a collection, which I had published with a print-on-demand company. (It came out in 2003 and revised in a Second Edition in 2005.) A few years ago I decided to let it go out of print. The title of the book was There's a Dog in the Heavens!: A Universe of Canine Verse.

Have a great weekend!

Martin

[F.F. Teague]

You're welcome, Martin. Yes, they were/are deeply serious about Sirius. The dog-themed poems are excellent, and congrats on the collection; I like the title :-)

Unfortunately it'll be another working weekend here, but possibly with a bit of creative time depending on how quickly I can plough through the current typescript. I hope you have a great weekend too :-)

Best wishes,
Fliss

[Martin Elster]

Fliss, thanks for liking the dog poems I posted (some of which I wrote after the book came out). Thanks also for liking the title.

I made a slight tweak in "Cosmic Canines" (Post #62). Changed the penult line from "lost in the rays of timeless play" to "lost in a ray of timeless play." I think the full rhyme (ray/play) sounds better.

I hope you have a nice weekend, even though you have to work.

Martin

[F.F. Teague]

You're welcome, Martin. Dog poems are always good.

I like that tweak to 'Cosmic Canines'; yes, the full rhyme sounds v.g.

I was up fairly early this morning and have just completed Chapter 16 of 21. There has been a lot of coding and referencing, but I don't mind that as I can listen to music while attending to such tasks. Today we've had Mussorgsky, Prokofiev, Stravinsky, so far.

Still thinking about writing a poem re. the Winchcombe meteorite; I just need to check a couple of things :-)

Best wishes,
Fliss

[Martin Elster]

Fliss, I'm glad you feel the full rhyme works better. I hope you're not too tired from getting up too early. But it sounds like you are doing your job, despite that. Mussorgsky, Prokofiev, and Stravinsky are some of my favorite composers.

I'm in the middle of watching a video about the Voyager probes, both of them having gone past the heliopause (the boundary of the heliosphere, caused by the sun's magnetic field). They are now beyond the influence of the sun's radiation (the end of the solar system) and are at the beginning of interstellar space (which has its own magnetic field — the probes are bombarded by cosmic rays from supernovae, etc.). They have sailed through an 89,000ºF wall of plasma, which is the interstellar medium colliding with the heliopause.

Here is a poem I wrote a while ago about those probes.

Voyagers

Two eagles soared amid the Jovian spheres
before they hurtled past the heliopause,
becoming so unthinkably remote
from Sol, the photons pouring from his throat
now travel a million million miles to cause
those regal twins to lift their silver ears.

They focused in on rings of ice and rock,
great clouds of red, volcano bands the size
of California, moons with skins so bright,
they outshone even Venus’ lustrous white.
These sights had mesmerized the many eyes
that dreamed of rising like a kite or hawk.

Then when they’d reached the solar system’s brink,
one took a backward look and snapped a shot,
a picture of the place their architects
called home, a mote among the sundry specks
revolving round what dwindled to a dot,
its radiance continuing to shrink.

These travelers shall eternally convey
a pair of golden records with the sound
of trains and Bach, of wolves and whales and fire.
Who knows if any being will admire
two earth-born pilgrims launched from sandy ground
to skim the thermals of the Milky Way?

(Appeared in The Chimaera.)

[F.F. Teague]

That's a brilliant poem, Martin; I'm drawn to any poem that mentions birds, but this is particularly vibrant, I feel. I hadn't heard of The Chimaera, so I'll take a look.

My psoriatic type of arthritis is controlled by medication at the moment and I find I don't need much sleep, which is good. The osteoarthritis and other things will always be with me, but the morphine helps. I love what I think of as the fire of those Russian composers. I appreciate Rachmaninov and Tchaikovsky too.

The video sounds interesting; to sail through a wall of plasma must be no mean feat! The Winchcombe Meteorite poem should be here soon.

Best wishes,
Fliss

[F.F. Teague]

Well, I've written the poem, but I'm having trouble posting it. I'll go and have my Fortisip and then I'll try again :-)

[F.F. Teague]

Ah, that's better.

Here's a poem about the Winchcombe Meteorite, which somehow became more about Moppet and her two companions, guineas owned by the Wilcocks of Winchcombe (Cathy is friends with my mum). Performance note: squeaky voice.


Moppet's meteorite

It was cold. It was dark. We were grateful for hay,
00we being Portia and Parsnip and me.
We were singing and snoozing and feeling quite gay;
00we'd had cabbage and carrots for tea.

Parsnip said she was thirsty and moved from the bed
00to the diner, to have a quick drink;
but she rushed back, her tufts raised. 'What is it?' I said.
00'I don't know, Mop! Come, let's sit and think!'

So we all ambled out and sat still for a time,
00ears and noses a-twitching a lot.
We heard whistles and rumbles and some sort of chime
00and the air felt remarkably hot.

'Something's falling!' breathed Portia, her eyes very wide,
00and we heard a sharp thud not far off,
then a human, perhaps. Parsnip said, 'Time to hide!'
00No one came, though; we just heard a cough.

We continued to sing and to snooze through the night
00and through dawn, 'til we heard a big noise!
Human voices, so many, they gave us a fright.
00Even Portia could not keep her poise.

Breakfast came; it was carrots and cabbage again.
00We were puzzled; it's normally weeds.
But we ate all our veggies and made a nice den
00in our hay, which was sweet, with no seeds.

[Martin Elster]

I love it! What did the guineapigs think of that crash in the driveway? Now I know. It's amazing that the meteorite didn't smash through their house. It's also amazing that you are acquainted with the family.

[F.F. Teague]

Thanks, Martin; I'm glad you enjoyed it. This is just a flying visit, but I'll be back later (and I'm about to post on the poemusical thread) :-)