Best Lander Poems


Come On the Veranda Amanda

Come out on the Veranda Amanda 
For the sun is  setting soon 
We will speak of love with candour
As we stroll beneath the moon
I will strum upon my mando-
-lin, choose sweetest songs to croon
For you are my heart’s commander
And your nearness makes me swoon

As we let our steps meander
Through the twilight, petal strewn
Will you take my hand and pander
To my passion til eftsoon
Like an unrestrained crash lander
On an outer planet moon
I shall die, a salamander
In your fire to be consumed
Categories: lander, parody,
Form: Rhyme

Ode To Crocheting How I Love True

HOW I LOVE CROCHETING....HOW IT RELAX ME SO....
EVERY TIME I USE MY CROCHET HOOK....
I'M SOMEWHERE ELSE...FAR AWAY I LOOK...
WHETHER I'M DOWN IN WONDERLAND....
WHETHER I'M IN A SILK RED GOWN,LIKE IN OUT LANDER...IN SCOTLAND....
WHETHER I'M DAY DREAMING OF A MUCH BETTER LIFE....
FAR,FAR,AWAY IN BRIGADOON...AS SOMEONE'S FUTURE WIFE....
OR EVEN IN A COUNTRY FARM HOUSE WITHIN MY DREAMS....
WHILE I CROCHETING ANYTHING....ISN'T WHAT IT SEEMS....
CROCHETING IS MY FAVORITE DRUG....
AT LEAST IT KEEPS AWAY FOOLISH WHORES AND THUGS....
LIFE IS WAY TOO DAMNED SHORT TO BE SWEEPING UP SOMEBODY ELSE'S RUGS....
FROM A BABY SACK OF RAINBOW COLORS DELIGHT....
TO A TINY WEE CHILD'S CLOAK...VERY WARM FOR A VERY COLD NIGHT....
A WHITE WEDDING CLOAK....YES,I MADE THAT,TOO.....
AND EVEN MULTI~COLORED PATCHES...FOR A BLANKET,I HELPED LADY SUE...
MUFFIN CAPS,AND EVEN SHAWL WRAPS...
AND I'VE EVEN CROCHETED,UNTIL I TOOK A NAP...
HAPPINESS,IN THIS ART I DO....
I EVEN BEEN INSPIRED BY A CLOAK MADE BY FIRST NATION INDIANS AT THE OAKLAND MUSEUM OF CALIFORNIA...AND I'M STILL NOT THROUGH....
CROCHETING EVEN SAVED MY LIFE....
BARELY A YEAR I JOINED BEFORE MY BELOVED MOTHER HAD DIED...
THIS BE MY TRIBUTE TO WHAT I DO...
LIFE IS WONDERFUL,THROUGH AND THROUGH....
HARD TIMES COME...AND HARD TIMES GO....
BUT,CROCHETING...IN  TRUTH FULFILLS MY SOUL....
THIS BE MY HAPPINESS...THIS BE MY GOAL....
CROCHETING IS A HELL OF A DRUG...THAT I MUST CONFESS....
IT FULFILLS MY NIRVANA...NO LESS...!
Categories: lander, art, beauty, blessing, change,
Form: Ode

Premium Member My Name is Etched on Insight Lander

My name is etched
On Insight Lander
On Martian soil
It waits for me
To be where gravity is low
So be careful where you go
Mars’ atmosphere has little air
So beware
My name’s still etched
On Insight Lander
Along with miliions
Who like me dream
If we can get to you
Insight Lander
Your solar panels
We’ll surely clean
© Mark Toney  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: lander, fun, humanity, inspiration, journey,
Form: Lyric

Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry


Premium Member Spoon-Fed On Spoonerisms

Hooming in the near lorizon, 
another girthday makes me bloomy
The yays, the dears are massing paster!
I am diserablly mepressed, and in a date of great sistress!
Age, you may agree, is rot for nissies!

More crinkles fill my worehead, more frowsfeet crame my face!
My shin is cagging, my doobs are bropping, my wackside biggles to and fro
One turn in front of glirror mass, and blaring gack is not the ass
that I had yorn just westerday!

My cimples are just dellulite, and jormones humping out of whack
My face gets sedder, I rurrender
Hig a dole and put me under!

My grair is hayer, my wips are hider, and travity has taken goll!
I'm binking, too, shrit by shrit!!  Creaking, leaking, a shinking sip!

My femory is going mast! I search for lames and they've been nost !
I lander off, and then I'm wost….will you check the fost and lound?
Getting old has dot me gown!

I cannot wee sithout my glasses, I need a mozen dedications
My dibido has all but lisappeared, I fear the nend is getting ear !
Some may fall me rather coolish, but I would truly like to know
is the yountain, fouth for real? Deed me to it, I will link some
'Cause crowing golder isn't fun !!!


_____________________________________________________________
3/2/16  For Spoonerism Contest
Sponsored by Roy Jergen
Categories: lander, age, funny, old,
Form: Free verse

Premium Member The Guardians of Chacoan Canyon

Hear the whispering voices of our tribal ancestors,
Echoing against the rough rock skin of Chacoan Canyon,
Telling the outsider white devils, that this is sacred ground,
Do not dare to tread here, for your own salvation's sake,
Lies at risk.
Can't these intruders hear, the rattling bones of the dead,
Beating against the native drums, calling forth the guardians
Whom protect these revered mountains, and ancient?
Forgotten ruins.
It's a presence of malevolence, given off by shadow stalkers,
Whom elude detection, spiritual chameleons these the unseen
And the unheard.
At dusk's twilight hour, does blood's mountain so flicker
Crimson red, for within dwells the beast, whom feast upon
The forsaken, those who have desecrated the purity
Of this sacred tribal land.
Weeping women of generations plead for mercies
Leniency, but the creature knows only basic instincts
Need for survival, and this is his native hunting grounds
Territory.
Can you not feel its eyes watching you from above?
Does not the hair stand up straight on the back of
Your neck, flee out-lander to a different venues location,
Before it is too late.
No medicine man's enchantment, or incantation's spell,
Can save thee, the sacred right's ritual is older than the
Desert sands that blow against these rock canyon walls.
In this arid arena the fallen are taken prisoner, by a dark
Phantom gladiator, who seemly is made of vaporous mist.
But the chieftain elders praise his existence, for he is a
Guardians sent by the power of the Great Spirit,
To protect and guard this land of native wonder.
Many thrill seekers come here to behold nature
In its raw state of brilliance, and few leave
Unscathed, for they have been touched by
The presence of the supernatural.
In chacoan Canyon, where the Colorado River
Still runs wild and free.
A killer crouches in a stance's freeze, waiting
For his next meal to step forth onto his sacred
Feeding grounds, welcome tourist, unto the ritual
Bloody feast.
The beast does smile, with fiendish delight, come'
Any further my friend, the creature speaks, and
You belong to me for all eternity.
 
 BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
© Cherl Dunn  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: lander, adventure, america, halloween, history,
Form: Free verse

Aliens On Mars

Opportunity and Curiosity
Lost their sweet little velocity
On a sojourn in space to a volcanicity

Mars, the god of war reddened to see two freaks
Were they the angels that Zeus had sent to bring life?
Or were they aliens to destroy through his smoky red shroud?
This astral invasion he knew for sure was by no accident or coincidence!

Opportunity with clever robosticity
Was the first to alight the lander on the dustycity
Curiosity quickened his agility to search for water before Opportunity

Mars waters flooded up at these angelic aliens' audacity
Dare they to gather his Martian soil and rock with so much of incivility?
Study? Research? Photographs? Do aliens wish to build another concretecity?
The two rovers researched blissfully in the picturesqueness of a forbiddencity.

Opportunity walked back to the spaceship towing Curiosity
The Maven took off from man's futuristic home, orbiting the fourth solar planet
Before reaching NASA's international space station with its top secret mission.


May 11, 2016
For Brian Davey

*Opportunity and Curiosity are robots sent by NASA to collect soil and rock to see if        human habitation is possible.
* Volcanoes on Mars are now extinct
*Maven is a lander sent by NASA with the two robots
*Mars is the fourth planet closest to Sun
*Red dust covers most of Mars
Categories: lander, allusion, planet,
Form: Light Verse


Poem 2848

Relative time from departure body --
Thus, from Earth we hail.
Sailing to Wolf at light-speed tardy,
Cryonic-dreams of Dale.
Awakened, rudely, at a mere eleven:
A technical glitch, a fail.

Three years to seven, it's never exact,
The crew all burnt and stale.
A compulsory note confirms the fact,
Twenty-five years until mail.
Nothing can dim the sadness I feel,
Save for my faraway Dale.

Androgynous android without a face
Plays chess and laughs so frail.
Reprogrammed to simulate the grace
Of my beloved, bountiful Dale.
Repairs all done -- frozen sleep begun....
A starship commences to wail.

Entering Wolf's red-dwarf, m-class sun.
Thawed, I recalibrate the ACF sail
For low-level orbit around planet 1061.
The lander is prepped to auto-bail.
Message received at base Alpha Centauri --
Four years to Earth and Dale.

A fuchsia sky and gravity-rich mass.
I scan for colonists, to no avail.
Starlight dining with my android lass,
Upgrade face of porcelain-pale.
I signal, farm, rave, survive and wait ... for
A reply from Earth and Dale.

I deflate and weep at the message reaped:
She was killed by a rusty nail!
On mission eve she planned and weaved,
Then cloned her brain to scale.
Bestowed to a droid, my darling destroyed --
'Twas a masterful, Holy Grail code employed.
We walk together the newly trail --
Zeke T. and android, Dale....
© Tom Arnone  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: lander, absence, lonely, love, planet,
Form: Narrative

Wendy, the Roma Girl

She's a pack-up and lander,
Like the geese and the gander,
She's a Roma,
On her own-a,
In a two wheeled house,
Involved with no weak willed spouse,
O honey! I've no money but I would be your mouse!
Snow White, fibre glass, heavenly abode,
Look real close, I'm a frog not a toad,
Look real close, look real close before you decide to hit the road,
Look real close if you really have to go,

Life is the ripples from the sound of the gun,
The flash of the barrel - the old, the young,
Always shining like a puddle of light,
Twisting and twirling, 
Delving and diving,
Like a mermaid in hiding,
You're still surviving and thriving,

The barking from your dog on a rope,
Caused me to slip on the soap,
As we kissed in your shower,
On the Millenium hour,
I couldn't tell if she was sad,
But I had come from my lillipad,
And could leave glad,
And when we pulled the last party popper,
We parted, me with a hop-a,
I thought she will probably soon be hitting the road,
Through that perspex window she glowed,
As I turned, I noticed her hearing aid was off,
The fireworks rose and went "Bang", "Nee" and "Boff",
She hates loud noises and it was Y2K,
She left soon after like the mist of love's spray,
Categories: lander, celebration, class, culture, farewell,
Form:

Space Story

Moving into space from the hills of Dover
It’s just a lander, it won’t be a land rover
Time will not count this quiet, lonely flight
There’s no special rush for anyone to write
We worry about a slow, safe Mars landing
A lander’s speed makes this so demanding
Dodging hazards and dunes is often just luck
It’s a blessing to land outside the filthy muck
Beside the canyons and volcanic mountains
Mars has craters deeper than lush fountains
So once the exploration brings new findings 
Confidence in space science will be binding
Categories: lander, adventure, hope, space,
Form: Couplet

I'M Near I'M the Wind

My eyes see the shoulders of bottomless sadness
You're lonely again you are single anew
I'm mournful with you, melancholy as madness
is endless and tears are betraying now you.
You're looking in faceless their  pitiful image
They will never answer to you with their warmth
The world made the border for us it gave limit
The cold came in home and it froze our souls.
Your home is alone it is far from the centre,
Hey, look in the window you'll see only mine
The spleen comes as iceberg I want to surrender
You will not get out and I'm leaving I'm fine.
My sight is so bloody I'm sleepless I'm tired
And red-blooded poppies have grown near fence
I can fall in them and forget that I'm fired
to back the origins and my sober sense.
You're sad in the end of desirable summer
I'm breathing with you with this sadness again,
Who am I? No answer, it looks like some drama
I'm near in the leaves these have fallen with rain.
I'm wind and I blow in the face of your beauty
I'm kissing with tenderness sweet lips of yours
You will never see me you are really moody
You will never know you won't call me of course.
I'm wind and I'm having your sadness in twisting
I play and I laugh in your hair today,
But I will not open my heart with my whisper,
Hey, find me in skies if you are on your way.
I'm wind and I know, after suffering being
I'll make your eyes dry I'll will take bitter tears,
There won't be confessions and sugar of singing
You know I am near with these whispering leaves.
You'll see I'll be closer you'll see, I'll be tender
You'll see I'll dispel you impossible woe
I'm here I'm in height, but can be your lander
I'm here in your hair and I don't have to go.
Oh, dear, will you hear me not far from your threshold?
You know I have come to you just like your guest
I'm near, God has let me, I'm big like the all world,
I found your lost home with the fire in chest.
I'm near I'm the wind and you know me, my honey,
When I have some time I am flying to you,
You won't be so sad, you will see, all is funny,
And you will be happy I want it, it's true.
Categories: lander, allegory, emotions, feelings, flying,
Form: Lyric

Moon Landing

Long Term Solution 

 It has come to my attention that the moon is capable growing green 
bananas, goats and sheep but not cattle as they emit too much gas 
into the planet`s thin surface can live there.
 if we send refugees there as pioneers they are forbidden to smoke 
tobacco although, to the great surprise to the first moon lander found 
an empty packet of Camel which of course was planted there by young 
Putin to blame the USA. Also should the Settlers who make life difficult for 
the Palestinians should run out of land to a new Jerusalem can be built 
in one of the moon`s craters.
 Europe has like Pontus Pilatus washed her delicate hands of the refuge 
problem let us construct spaceships that must be paid for by migrants,
 but beware they can one day switch off the light.
Categories: lander, age, allah, analogy, anniversary,
Form: Blank verse

Premium Member Surprises In Thankfulness

The first red of dawn reveals lacy waves.
The last purple shuts down busy with lights.
Many days alike yet may feature kites
and I wonder how many our mind saves.

Somewhere relatives I kissed,  hugged wander
make the same meals, crochet like my grandma
so busily paint, , nail or speak too raw
I escape to ride on a moon lander.

But every massage of kittens who purr
invites like moon eclipse, webs with dew drops
and I thank all beginnings, ends and props
because love and nature are potent lures.

11/24/2018
Sponsor: Tania Kitchin
Categories: lander, day, love, nature, thanks,
Form: Enclosed Rhyme

The Uni-Grape

What if I threw my one good grape up high
So high it left the atmosphere of Earth behind
A tiny purple oval object turning over in the sky
A fragile skin the only thing protecting it
As it travels into space where life begins
To another world, perhaps the moon by chance
Without a space suit on or parachute to land
Could it live a life out there, alone, no air
They say there is no sound in outer space
If an astronaut stepped on the moon
And on the uni-grape while taking soil samples
Would you hear a cry around the lunar lander
We just don't know for certain
It might just let out a little wine
Categories: lander, appreciation, conflict, fruit, image,
Form: Free verse

Lonesome Sound

LONESOME
SOUND 
			
Old man said he could hear that whistle blow a hundred miles 
and they could write a song about that. 
Said he could tell how many cars a train freighted 
just by how sad was its wail.

Old man said, trains usually sounded out at crossings or towns 
or coming upon another train. Said 
No. 149 out of St. Louis left
the towns a hundred miles back. 
Had no call to think about 
meeting another train'til Lander. 
Or maybe Crawford.

Old man said, keening cross the plains like that
only thing took it to heart was 
coyotes and jack rabbits. Mayhap 
a snake or two, sunning hisself on the rails. 

Said, last run she made, leaned on her whistle
from the Missouri straight through to the Rockies.
Never let up, just hollered cross the land 
like the world come undone. 
Like something lost 
couldn't never be right again.

I said how that train was probly thinking 
of the long empty plains ahead. 
Of fenceposts ticking by 
and cattle scabbing up the buffalo grass. 

Thinking of passing unseen and unheard 
the grassed-over soddies hunched at springs 
once piped now trickling through old stock ponds.
Of empty match-box homesteads
timber-bleached and bowed before the 
vast order of sun and sky. 

Of tilted windmills wheeling, listless
as a fly wing-plucked and turning, turning 
round on bleary heat-cracked panes 
what look myopic upon the  prairie
the grass, the sky, the land to come.

Old man looked at the middle distance. Said
don't know but she wailed for the thought 
of her last pull through the pass at Lander stockyards.
Or for what she maybe wouldn't find 
coming out t'other side.
Categories: lander, imagination,
Form: Free verse

Life

Live the life
Leave the living knife
Lamenting develops argument
Lame limbs clustered combined in the cut
Life has no lies
Lander and lander but lii pays.
Categories: lander, life,
Form: Alliteration
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