In puzzling out the mystery that surrounds you,
the enduring enigma of your radiant grace,
I consulted astrologers, wisemen, barometers, and saints
to conjure with your effect on the weather here,
miles and miles removed from your gentle influences,
and finally discovered the answer, written on the furthest stars,
sprinkled across the bosom of our landscape,
and nestled among the brambles and the flowers:
Even the sky misses you at night.
I've heard it sigh when you retire
and seen it smile when you awaken
to grace the waiting day.
Christopher M. Swan 2009
As quasar mixes the starry dust,
a newly formed planet en route’s a must;
new universes revealed beyond black holes
captivating stories are yet to be told.
Tiny newborn sails saturnian seas,
a Venus flyby in Saggittarius is a breeze;
absolute magnitude in glimmer sails on by,
soon new space he will occupy.
Whoops! Now dodging meteor shower,
a bruise or two won’t slow his power;
he’s on his very own spiritual quest
for new horizons where he will rest.
He’ll take his place amid the fold,
his travel stories yet to be told;
to tinier planets that he will meet,
he’ll even brighten eclipsing binary.
He’ll take his place in man’s Ephemerides,
oh the astrologers he’ll guide with ease;
to alter man’s future by their birth stars,
providing them with fascinating memoirs.
No planet in any galaxy,
will mess with this star’s alchemy.
He’s on a mission, this tiny young one,
his planetary cycle for millennia will run.
When you spy him there in your glass eye,
be sure to shout, “Hello, Goodbye”,
as he races across your galaxy,
you’ll marvel at his pageantry.
When I gaze up at the evening sky (by the way I think everybody should)
I’m often reminded of my younger days…back in my childhood.
Back when I played with my Lite Brite…for often I would sigh…when I saw the constellations I created…back when I controlled the sky.
And I wonder if ancient astrologers gazing up into the night…were as enamored with what they saw…as I was with my Lite Brite.
Back when I played connect the dots…when it wasn’t always clear…when I started to connect them…what picture would appear.
And I wonder how long it took ancient astrologers to make the correlation…to connect the dots of light across the sky and form the constellations.
I don’t think it crazy or in the least bizarre…to think there was a little bit of child in those ancient astrologers as they gazed up at the stars
Perhaps they formed their beliefs…and found answers to the question why…by playing, in their own way, with their Lite Brite in the sky.
Gazing at the constellations tonight…I’m filled with a host of childhood thoughts…which makes me want to thank those ancient astrologers…for connecting all those dots.
I was born
Under a bad sign
The sign of the scorpion
In late October
In the year of the Goat
I did my chart once
I had five stars
In Scorpio
Sun, Rising Star, Mars,
Jupiter and Pluto
Moon in Aeries
A very Scorpion signs
Filled with passion, fire
And furry
The woman who did my chart
Said that it was a very powerful sign
And that I would accomplish great things
According to western astrologers
A Scorpio-Gemini relationship
Is a very challenging thing
But when it works
It can be one of the most
Profound relationships
According to Chinese Astrology
The goat and pig
Are the best astrological combo
The best that there can be
In the end
Does it matter
What sign I was born under?
All that matters
Is that I met and married
The woman of my dreams
And met my fate
On that date.
Here I am
Grounded on earth
And, my fate
Hangs in the stars
My future
Is predicted by people
Who are unsure
Of their own fate
For them,
It is profitable business—
They have absolutely
Nothing at stake
All they have to do
Is to play with my anxiety
And, I am sure
To shell out nickels
The astrologers
Tell you,
“What the stars foretell”
Or, so they say!
I have now extended this
When astrologers travelled from afar
they were led from the east by a star.
Through King Herod they sought
the infant King at his court
to pay homage with gifts such as myrrh.
King Herod reacting in fury
having asked scribes and priests was sure he
knew just where he'd be found.
So the Magi profound
under the star found the babe securely.
Bowing before him they offered their gifts,
gold frankincense and myrrh as befits
Jesus the suckling King.
Then homeward returning
far away from King Herod's raging fits.
Herod discovering that he'd been deceived
ordered the slaughter of boys to proceed
in Bethlehem town
and the region around,
leaving their parents so deeply bereaved.
But Joseph with Mary to Egypt flew
to keep Jesus safe until they knew
king Herod was dead.
Relieved of their dread
they returned, making prophecies come true.
Matthew 2
Are we blessed or cursed?
Who will get there first?
Into the far reaches of space
People race!
God, our Creator put it where?
It’s easy; it’s around
Truth can be found.
Astrologers try the stars and stare.
Pages of our lives lay bare.
But it’s not there!
Others just listen and study
But the truth gets muddy
As more questions keep coming.
The truth takes off running.
This treasure chest
Holds the best
Only the humble will believe
The truth they do receive
Whether young or old
Fearful or bold
God wills us all to know
That He loves us so!
Truth is Jesus, His Son.
He is for everyone
That’s why He obeyed and came
To love all of us the same.
Accept Him into your heart
Have a brand new start
Own the richest Treasure ever
Not a religion nor idea clever.
It’s a Person that loves you.
A Spirit to be in your spirit too.
He ties you to all the blessings
Takes away all your guessing
Peace and joy begin to reign
From the Father He came
The truth Treasure can be yours
Freedom by his power out pours.
This morning while walking in the darkness
I hadn’t traveled very far
When I looked up…
and across the sky
I saw a shooting star.
A screech owl trilled, “Did you see that?”
(he was hidden from my view)
Then I heard a second hidden screech owl answer
“Yes, I saw it too!”
I stopped walking at that moment
(as I say I hadn’t traveled very far)
for I knew I needed to make a wish
upon that shooting star…
I know a shooting star is rare
I know what the astrologers say
If you make a wish on a shooting star
you’re in for a lucky day…
They say a shooting star is strange
extraordinary and bizarre…
they say that there is magic
in the power of that star.
Today, however, I decided not to make a wish
and though it may cause astrologers to howl…
I decided I was lucky enough
to share this moment with the owls.
Most rigorous astrology can hardly divine
Why flamy galactic orbs often burning fall;
Or the calm pull behind shiniest meteorites'
Hurtling lower from their neat nestlings tall.
I own that apt eyes as of the lauded Magi may
From starry ciphers tap signs of a coming day;
Yet no tiny mass among the fiery marvels high,
Can answer when first they graced the idle sky.
While I'd rate their near-syzygies tolerably rare,
I know ethereal balls as bereft of all oral strain.
All sheen but full non-awareness of birth-date,
Ought to render these speechless vapors vain.
What telescoped forms of dumb orbitings mute
Might imbue with insight in placid images cute
Any salient squinter into thick lens herebelow,
Where tiptop harps and strung wonders bore?
Astrologers and their crafty stars will sweat to tell,
Where and when their augury-warped instincts fell.
Lots of Leos in my life –
Astrologers believe
That certain signs with others
Symbiosis do achieve.
My husband is a Leo
And his birthday is today.
We’d celebrate regardless of
The Zodiac’s okay.
But the stars are in alignment
For this Leo and this Aries
Have shared many celebrations,
Never once as adversaries!
It is revered in the East,
while feared in the West.
It is asleep during noon,
and wide awake under the moon.
Sometimes it is carried on people's skins,
where it stays still as part of yins.
.....it is also part of yang,
giving hope to the young.
Eastern astrologers mark it in calendars,
from the lands filled with cedars.
Whether in the present or future,
it will always be a mystical creature.
Descend to join me now in Luna’s sept
Before the summer storm’s pale vision
Disturbs the bed of glory where you slept
And sighed at passing time’s derision!
Arise and sow your wonder over hills
Where free birds can outlast the wingless,
And grass unweaves so gently over rills
Whose timeless flow is quick and listless!
Unending hours advance while tearing off
Astrologers’ ill fancies, deader
Than fragments wrought and torn away by scoff,
Whose broken vows are Hope’s beheader.
All envy shrinks, for you are like the spell
Which thaws cold marble into living
Decay. Descend, illume our moon-beamed dell,
For memories can foil misgiving!
Find my poems and published poetry volumes at www.eton-langford.com
EPIPHANY - Acrostic
They came from the East, the three wise men,
Following a star that Prophesied a King,
A Shepherd of Israel Immanuel his name, in a
Stable in Bethlehem Precious gifts and adoration.
'I'd like to worship!', Herod declared.
Until in a dream the Astrologers were warned.
God’s gift of love for New Year, as foretold,
is Christ the heart of Yuletide and light of the world.
by Jean McLoughlin
Two eyes can only see limited images,
beyond there are worlds like ours
perhaps more awesome and peaceful:
is there another species more powerful?
How vast is our universe? It puzzles the scientist's mind
and inspires the humble heart; it amazes the believer
and confounds the atheist who somehow seems blind;
I am that observant who strongly believes in a creator!
In an age of vanity where self-ego denies the God of perfect Man,
fools stand on the highest edge of perception mindless of astonishing beauty;
how can one see a creation so immense and still battle within?
Ah! All narrow minds don't allow their consciousness to comprehend infinity!
How vast is our universe? Imagine its immensity! Who is capable of measuring it,
if it constantly extends itself? Doesn't it baffle scientists, astrologers and us?
If life has flourished on earth...wouldn't it be present on a distant planet?
Will they will find it in outer-space? Will this alien race be more advanced that ours?
Written ON 8/19/2015
The astrologers have set a date
for an unique celestial phenomena;
why would the translucent Luna
turn ginger and then deep red?
Back in January it resembled a huge orange balloon,
its size was awesome to view;
it stood there to entertain a goon
whose sad mood turned into
the happiest song he ever sung...
and although the air was nippy, he strolled along!
Bloody moon of April, appear before I go to rest
and linger until the robins start warbling in their nest;
who wouldn't think of passion and envision dreams
that change with the seasons like your moonbeams?
Bloody moon of April, hang in that breezy, starless sky:
isn't this my last opportunity to marvel at you before I die?
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