Best Jules Verne Poems
The city of Prague
In a different world
Its centre ripped
The whole world heard
Its now separated by
Canyons so deep
The day it happened
To hear a country weep
Beautiful buildings
Fell away
Architectural delights
Toppled on sway
But the city recovered
No bridges to be seen
Ingenious in genius
Sky Gondola's reign
To cross this great city
From north to south
Over the gaping rift
Above the canyons mouth
Gondola shaped
Zeppelin for lift
Tiller propeller
Propulsion shift
Sky taxis
In ariel flow
With their lanterns lit
Like glowworms glow
This sight i view
With my pal Jules Verne
Inspires his writes
As generations will learn
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/fantasy4.php
So I’m building a spaceship,
But where should I start?
When the spaceship I’m building
Is made out of art
Books for the seats
And paintings for the walls
Cause this type of spaceship
Goes nowhere at all
I do not want it to
Why should it go?
To travel to space,
Where I do not know?
When in my own room
There’s mystery and tale
In pages of books
In pictures on nails
I will set up two chairs
Connect them by sheets
Webster can help me
With good wordy seats
I will need a good staff
I will need a good crew
To narrate our path
To guide us all through
Virgil can help
He’s a good guide
He knows the maps
Of the spiritual side
And there’s only one doctor
I could put to good use
The greatest of time
The old Dr. Seuss
A friend of Ernest
Our pilot to be
An old timey sailor
A man from the sea
A hatch I will make
Of a copied Van Gogh
The stars through the door
Oh how they will glow
Our ship will be waterproof
So that’s no concern
But in case there’s a problem
I will bring Jules Verne
A clock I have seen
That hung in the hall
Created by Dali
Will make up a wall
I believe that is it
That’s all I will need
I’ve got my good paintings
I’m ready to read
Oh no but wait
I almost forgot
Shakespeare, get in
We’re about to take off!
And away we go
On a journey tonight
To return tomorrow
At mornings light
'Our Mother'
Our Mother - a sophisticated lady
Always destined for the top
You'd never see her walk on by
A top designer shop
So impeccably presented;
Amazing handbag, clothes and shoe
Even perfume richly scented
Numbered bottle gives the clue
Never more elegant a lady
Than the stylish Mrs Mannell
Surely can't be just co-incidence
That her name rhymes with Chanel?
For pleasure; Mum rode her horses
Liked playing hard and drinking gin
Slip in friends and glass of champers
And her heart you'd surely win
Of her job she could wax lyrical
And of work being her miracle
A workaholic one might say
Toiled every cent of hard earned pay
Mum frequented finest restaurants
If dined with Margaret you would discern
Whether lunching at the Ivy
Or in Paris, of course; Jules Verne
Mum once painted chairs and pottery
And boiled up fudge to taste
She made luscious chocolate mousse those days
And yoga trimmed her waist
Mum sketched and drew with creative flare
Gave her loving cats amazing care
She sung out loud never just a hum
Then taught me to be a Mum
We all knew different parts of Mum
But between us we all know
Her strength could be a barrier
"Dahhling, don't let feelings show"
No matter what we all admire in her
With love and pride we glow
At the sea of people facing her
Must not let tear drops flow
A formidable woman Margaret
Or as Peggi to many friends
Just 'Mum' to my sister and I
And where this poem almost ends
She was Grandma Peg to four granddaughters
And now a great grand-son
Who knew she stayed and fought
To become a great grand mum
So to the 'bar', let's go raise glasses
For this tough old bird please grin
She'd hate to see sad faces
No tears while drinking gin
'Our mother'
For Margaret Mannell's funeral
By Victoria Payne
We're on a journey of exploration, a long-deferred vacation
There's room for you too … Come with us, and your essence renew
We've been so busy surviving, striving, never quite thriving
It's time to live life large, hire a sea-worthy vessel, a sturdy barge
First it's off to Africa, to distant shores, hottest jungles and desert sands
There to unearth unknown civilizations, man's oldest bones, in buried lands
Then we set sail for the Isle of Atlantis, with the help of a 'sea sherpa(nt),' who in Atlantis will plant us
We're sure to find this isle 20,000 leagues under the sea, with the help of
Jules Verne and Walt Disney
After that we'll blast off into Space, bidding adieu to terra firma's rat race
We'll rocket past Saturn, Neptune, Uranus---and learn how our galaxy works
to sustain us...
When we return, we'll have stories to tell, a feature-length movie, a best-seller as well
About our journey of exploration
and how we managed it all
~ from the comfort of a virtual play-station
Entry in "Dealer's Choice Poetry Contest" (Going My Way)
Sponsor: Caren Krutsinger
To Jules Verne
A man feeling drowse at the top of the mountain, fell asleep.
He dreamed dreams
emanating from floods of seas.
In remote droughts,
he gave his fruit of smoke
on a simple altar.
Curd quartz opened
solidifying thousands of stamens,
they glowed
like the warm reflection of the stars on the sand,
the man kept close watch of the r.e.m. hour.
life is the strife of one baptized
in the depths of all his memories,
yet he forgets before awakening.
Founding himself face to face
with another man holding a frozen fish
and a bucket,
they begun the climb down,
What do you fish when you fish,
he asked,
for a bolt of fire, said the man
as he released the fish into the ground
and rubbed his hands,
cryogenics?
no, fisherman.
For many an historical generation,
you scintillated man’s imagination.
The subject of numerous films and books,
your presence was worth some astronomers’ looks.
From writers such as H.G. Wells and Jules Verne,
the fire of man’s curiosity would burn.
With mankind’s ingenuity and labor,
could we travel to this planetary neighbor?
If we arrived there, what would we find?
Are there living creatures similar to earth’s kind?
With man’s advancing technology,
space probes to the planet became reality.
However, what we discovered was not as expected.
Hardly any form of life was detected.
With cold desert-like terrain and desiccated atmosphere,
no life as we know it could live here.
No canals as previously conjectured would exist.
As a planet with life, you are crossed off our list.
You have the hysterical look of mutes
that roar through narrow straws.
I see in your yellow eyes – a Jules Verne winking moon.
Soon that ribbed pink cave will release
another flock of demented coots
hacked from the craw of an ancient macaw.
Soon the whip of your vocal squawks
will pluck my eyes from their trembling stalks.
Maine Coon, part Persian, part whiskery herring,
grimalkin mouser,
I love you not when you sing.
Verne goes to the movies, a flickering French theater
of painted malarkey, where mice threaten to Can-Can.
Buck Rodgers shoots rays of hyperbolic sound
from the open nozzle of your mouth.
There is nothing at all that appears on the norm.
Our surroundings are strange after the wake of the storm.
The ship was ripped apart like tin foil.
On this surface, we are slipping as if covered with oil.
We pause on the edge of a deep abyss.
Draped and muffled in a mist, everything is amiss.
Normally heavy objects are light and easy to throw.
This big heavy stone feels almost like a pillow.
Where do we dwell right now, I really don’t know.
We are not on the earth. That is a fact we can’t deny.
The stars are in different configurations in the sky.
Things look so strange to say the least.
Even the sun appears to be setting in the east.
The comet must have hit the earth, and we are on it right now.
Thank God we have survived this disaster somehow.
draped/ slipping/ pause/ edge/ muffled/ foil/ wake/ deny/ dwell/ pillow
Based on the science fiction novel "Off On a Comet" by the late Jules Verne
Dragonflies impossibly maneuver,
defying aerodynamics.
Obviously, there is something wrong with our
calculations,
even bumble bees behave like U.F.O’s.
Da Vinci, sketched flying machines
everything is feasible on paper
and we know paper planes can also fly.
A child can imagine a flying peddle bike,
because they can easily ignore
the settled science of gravity.
Peddle power is a real thing.
Children leave room for the impossible,
the way the Wright Brothers did.
Rockets were invented by the unimaginative,
Jules Verne and comic books misled them.
Space travels not about moving through space
as if it were actually a distance.
When we ask what it is - that nothingness
in which objects hang within or fly through,
then we will be close to inventing fire once more.
The sloth and the snail are not moving slow,
the flitting dragonfly, as it sharply veers
and turns in an iota of sky is not moving fast.
They are all equally synchronized,
they just do not consider time as a hurdle
but more of a tunnel.
I can still recall
the taste of that first youthful kiss,
it has not slipped away into a nether place,
it returns when I call to it, that kiss
and many more exclamation marks.
A hummingbirds bewildering feats of aviation,
though explicable, is no less magical,
it should remind us of the origami nature of time,
how it folds to accommodate any space
even a long ago kiss.
Excited steampunk creators
Designing in dastardly studios and attics
Working with fascinating gears and copper levers
A whole new world envisioned in a collective remembrance
Jules Verne watches from his heavenly seat and smiles
Admiring his octopus box from 1869.
SYRACUSE DEPARTURE
Twelve degrees at seven AM
and the weather a sharp bitter
force off Lake Ontario
The daybreak is luminescent
gray, the bright star rising, the
cloud cover glowing like the
opalescent door to the mysterious
power source of some
Jules Verne wonder
Passengers board
Instructions are given
Men and machines withdraw like
medics now useless to a resurgent
warrior
On runway twenty-eight / ten she
turns into the wind
Bright light splits the clouds
The big fan jets roar and her
man-made mean heat makes her
airborne and silver, crashing through
the morning, banking east above the
city, screaming toward the sun
Emanuel Carter
Colonoscopy
Colonoscopy,
strikes dread. It’s not too bad - when
Colon trouble free.
Jules Verne-like travel,
up your ****, spelunking through
strange, pink-ridged caverns.
Hunting for the snark,
or boojum, or polyp, who
feasts, darkly, in there.
Snipety-snap - jaws,
polyp-snatch; dragging from view,
miscreant tissue.
Pathology dock -
destined. Tried in the morning,
suspected malign.
Tried.. judged innocent.
Callooh! callay! It vanished
softly — my boojum.
If I had a time machine, I would visit Samuel T Coleridge
My favorite poet of all time, the author or Kubla Khan
"The wailing of his demon lover” sticks in my mind
Delighting me every time, especially today, May 1st, 1803.
As I was speaking to Samuel, his pal William Wordsworth would drop in
They would ask me if I wanted to write a ballad with them.
I would be thunderstruck with happiness but too shy to do it
However, I would clap in rhythm as they created
Wordsworth would talk about his deep love of the
“Beauteous forms of the natural world”
I would be amazed by their vocabulary
They would both blow my mind out into the hills
I would set my time machine to 1858 next.
To visit Jules Verne, one of my favorite authors.
I would ask him how he thought to create
Around the world in eighty days and twenty leagues under the sea.
Amazed that we still speak of him in 2025,
he would have a zillion interesting questions to ask me
I would set the time machine to year 1868 next. .
My last stop would be to visit Louisa May Alcott, author of Little Women.
If I were a submarine
I would jump out of the water
Checking to see if other ships
Were doing what they ought-er
Jules Verne would come back
And write lively stories about me
I would be deemed the sheriff
Of the Mediterranean Sea
#3: Tis Twilight Time
Goal hour is here ... the spirit joins the soul,
ephemeral or twilight ... or two worlds,
dreams; exchange facts for fiction ... a black hole,
furtherance, lying on a bed of pearls.
The Ancient Mariner, sailed all seven,
--but know that all of creation matters,
Jules Verne starts your voyage, you'll break even,
the journey will seem endless ... but crackers!
The choices lay at your feet, just explore,
"Around...," "Center...," "Under...," "Mysterious...,"
most productive voyager--go ashore.
This would be the trice of time, serious,
for the twinkling has arrived, tis Twilight,
Time, inspired, now expired, on-site, sit tight.