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Astrophotographer Seeks Stellar Bodies


The Beginning Is Near

Astrophotographer Seeks Stellar Bodies

bodies to the astrophotographer
might make you crazy
but makes him slightly more sane

an invincible universe
powered by amoeboid quanta
a challenge to undo

space from the wall of death
seen through cadaverous eyes
and high nose to sniff out subtitles

he looks out for his chances
on that carousel ride to nowhere
confusing painted animals and gods

some seek mountains to climb
others pursue galaxies to conquer
they run rings around the planets

they turn on the metaphysical countertop
clearly, effectively, always sustainably
communication tries, people don’t succeed

****************************

Written by Request of Roger Weiss a facebook space pal. He liked the picture, asked for a poem, don’t know what the credits are for the picture.

Posted on:

One Single Impression – Prompt 202: invincible

Also posted on:

A is for…

Also posted for Out of this world promt:

Where in the World?

Photo credit:  Bat-Ami Gordin  © 2012 all rights reserved, credit if you use it, please.

Study Red on Green


Red Sunset Over Green Sea

Study Red on Green

drinking wine
basket full of cheese
perfect spring lunch
on the beach

soft iridescence
against a carmine sky
wings reflecting cherry
soaring in the wind

red hot questions
on cool olive sand
volatile lust
in a gust of brine

green ocean spray
choreographed
always in her memory
lines of emptiness

she wants to crush
but in her wicked hands
she holds a green dragonfly
to be caged for life

*****************

This was written and posted for:

dversepoets Play with Color – Posted by Victoria at 

I chose Victoria’s direction : choose two complementary colors (colors that are opposite of one another on the color wheel) and weave them into a single poem and also to choose colors to paint an emotion.

I have studied a lot of color, both pigment and light, so this was fun. Obviously, green and red are complimentary colors. Sometimes the sun looks red, and the sea looks green, thought a picnic under these unique circumstances would be really cool.

I played around with this picture myself.

Coexist Sticker


Coexist Sticker

This sticker’s on an automobile.
It has a dream that’s unattainable.
Yes, it’s a very vain appeal.

Who’s out there seeking for an ideal,
when gods are unexplainable?
That sticker on any automobile

is a sarcastic way to conceal
a peace that is not sustainable.
I tell you, it’s a vain appeal.

The concept has a tendency to reel
you in. You think it is explainable?
The sticker found on some automobile

attracts attention with its pretty teal
color. But it’s not obtainable.
Coexistence is nothing but ordeal.

Don’t put away your sword of steel.
Soldiers, you are strong and trainable.
All those stickers on a junked automobile
are nothing but some vain appeal.

**************************

Written for:


Dverse Poetics “Bumper to Bumper” –

challenge, that is to write a poem about a bumper sticker, or about bumper stickers in general.

Also posted on:

and for:

Also posted on:

The Gooseberry Garden
Poetry Picnic Week 37: Peace in Love, Peace in Families,
Peace Among Friends, and Peace Around The World…

Also posted on:

C is for CATS !

I kinda chose to put up my cynical view of how people of diverse religions can’t really love one another.
For those who don’t recognize this, it’s a villanelle.

when men are like children


Annotation:

This time, I will start with the annotation.

This piece was written for Wordsmith Wednesday – Snooping  . Victoria essentially asked, “Have you written any short stories or poems that were inspired as a result of listening to conversations in public places?”

I was at an office today where two women at the reception desk were talking. One had a packet in her hand containing a set school portraits. However, the subject of the portraits was not a child. It was her husband, who is a school teacher. Included in the packed was a Child ID card, in case he went missing. The two women were laughing and making fun of the whole concept of a grown man in a child-portrait framework. The conversation of course flowed to the fact that men act like children, so the wife needed to keep this missing child card, of her husband, in case he ever got lost.

So, of course, I wrote a men are like children themed poem.

**************

Adding this after the fact, due to someone saying that the poem is not very flattering to men:

I am writing this in the voice of the women who are making fun of the husband. I do not think all men are children.  Some men are tooooo serious. Some men are toooo power hungry. Some men are there for you, and are loving and caring. I’ve singled out a situation about a man I never met, who might not even be childish, based on a conversation. Why? Because the prompt here is about snooping, and I found the conversation interesting and animated. For all I know, the women talking may not think this man is childish, just went in that direction because they found it funny to see the man’s picture on a “missing child” ID  card.

Notice that I did not call the poem “all men are like children.” I called it “when men are like children.”

when men are like children

(you know it all)

absorbed in avocation;
wide, shallow geek in many ways.
omnivorously eating candy-apples
like a loving super-horse.

living in the two-dimensional.
whining when he doesn’t get his way.
perpetual adolescence, shallow and deeper;
always in an problematic place.

stomping, throwing, fighting and whining.
he does it on a fishing boat.
mirrors of his own emotions ―
like sipping weak tea, just for fun;

victorious warrior one minute.
directionally challenged for hours.
gripping obsessions. distracted.
never losing his spontaneous heart.

*************

Also posted in Theme Thursday -October-13-2011-fish.html

Also post on:


dversepoets

poetics-falling-into-magic-potion-were-going-comic

Ms. Ellie Shrillcock


Woman Yelling

Ms. Ellie Shrillcock

A woman of the highest squeakery
has a big problem:
MEN!
Although she’d thoroughly
Invest every cent
In hard-core sentimentality.

Ms. Ellie Shrillcock, single mom and sentimental
piece of ass had her squeaky
butt wiped off her centripetal
self. Now, she probably
rides like a thoroughbred
race horse on the mend.

Flesh-like jerks, with mighty menhoods,
steer her with phemerones as they sniff scentless
silk tulips. Her house is a thoroughfare –
her boys try to keep it squeakily-clean.
Where is she sleeping tonight? Probably
not in her own bed. This past century

who was your first centaur,
Ms. Shrillcock? Was he a menace
with a torturing proboscis?
Or was he a sentinel
with the squeakiest
fiddle, thoroughly

quivering beneath your tight skirt? With thoroughness
you lazily transcribe central
bureaucratic formats. Squeaker,
with the lurid voice, that mental
patient whose final sentences
are compounded by problems,

is the only one you comprehend. How probable
for you to fall thoroughly
from elegance to sleaze. You were sent
to a celebration of centennial
proportions, for rugged men
who spent several years getting the squeak

out of their problematic voices. A cent
will buy you a thorough morality mentor
to exhume your inessential nasal squeakiness.

************************

Written and Posted for:

 D’verse Poets Pub

Hosted by Gay Cannon. Her sestina variation being  Art in 5.7.5 – Sestina Variation

Picture Credit blindgossip

I wrote thins in 1994 about…well, someone with a squeeky annoying voice, who had some issues. Let’s just leave it at that.

Please feel free to comment, and help me be a better poet.

Also posted on Poetry Picnic Week 8: Friends, Relationships and Everyone around

Sonnet XXIV


Rare Green Flash From the Moon

Sonnet XXIV

Light from the moon hits Earth’s dense atmosphere
in the low opaque areas that are wet.
Then the apparent lunar photosphere
emits green light as Luna starts to set.
The grey moon seems orange in the dark sky,
then a rare flash appears out of nowhere,
as a giant prism paints verdant die
and a blazing mirage seems to hang there.
Lunar soil releases ionic
streams as it is hit by the solar winds.
Then it wears a crown that seems demonic
’til the moon in the sky sets and rescinds.
The air helps bend light into frequencies
like weaving bright threads of embroideries.

**********************

I just found out about this phenomenon today on the New Scientist page . Then I wrote this sonnet.

Digg Newsrooms also has some interesting comments.

Posted on:

The Poetry Pantry Is Now Open! – #85

Also posted on:

Prompt 217: Verdant