Best Nova Poems
Nova
Mountain sunshine, take my hand;
Wrap your warmth around my shoulders;
Slip your arm within my arm;
Dance in my eyes as on sparkling waters;
Warm my heart to grow as columbine.
Mountain moon, weave me a gown;
Cast in my spirit a summer night serene;
Braid my hair with silver ribbons;
Give my face your harvest glow;
Let me too reflect the sun’s light.
Mountain rains, wash my heart clean;
Fill up each day with tender grace;
Create in me a wellspring of peace;
Give me the melody of rushing rivers;
Let me share the joy of rambunctious raindrops.
Mountain wind, give birth to my soul;
Shake the dust off of my feet;
Sing me songs of rustling leaves;
Give me the words to a snowstorm lullaby;
Send my feet to greet the dawn’s light.
Mountain stars, give me your dreams;
Diamonds that twinkle to wear for a ring;
An open heart for a wishing star;
Shining dreams to hold in the night;
Make my life a heavenly nova.
Now I’m ninety solar masses and I grow as I accrete
all the inter-stellar gasses near my neighbors when we meet.
My doctor says I’ve grown too fat too fast, “… it’s unsustainable!”
But I’ve big plans for a big blast that I know is attainable:
I’ll do the Supernova Bossa Nova, watch me when I blow.
Let’s do the Supernova Bossa Nova and host a cosmic show
for galaxies both near and far, a dazzling dance display,
and I’ll blow a smoke ring where we are here in the Milky Way.
My hydrogen will all have fused and soon I will implode,
that's inward, I’m an introvert, but watch my shell explode.
My core will keep on shrinking ‘til a blackhole is created,
a wormhole linking to a world where dance is venerated.
We’ll do the Supernova Bossa Nova, watch me when I blow.
You can blame the Bossa Nova but let’s all enjoy the show!
July 4, 2020
For the “You are a star Poetry Contest” sponsored by Nina Parmenter (First Place)
A SONG THAT WILL ONLY MAKE SENSE
TO EAST COASTERS! (CANADA)
A heritage that we all share, our blood is maritime.
We thrill to see the Bluenose, her picture on a dime.
Emotion for an ocean, gray Atlantic ever by,
Newfoundland, New Brunswick, Nova Scotia, PEI.
We’ve been to L’Anse Meadows, explored the Labrador.
Cruised the Ponds in Gros Morne Park, fished Caplin from the shore.
Raised a glass at Crow’s Nest, saw the sunrise Cape Spear beach.
Sang along with Great Big Sea, kissed the Cod and drank the Screech.
We’ve inner tubed the Nashwaak, fly fished the Miramichi.
Been to Historic Village in the heart of Acadie.
Climbed the Big Bald mountain, walked on Fundy’s floor.
Coasted up Magnetic Hill, scoffed at the Tidal Bore!
A heritage that we all share, our blood is maritime.
We thrill to see the Bluenose, her picture on a dime.
Emotion for an ocean, gray Atlantic ever by,
Newfoundland, New Brunswick, Nova Scotia, PEI.
Sang “Farewell to Nova Scotia|”, drank Rita’s tea as well.
Danced all night at Ceilidhs, been to the Citadel.
Strolled the shore of Baddeck Bay, where the Silver Dart took flight.
Walked the wharf called Fisherman’s, the rocks at Peggy’s Light.
Sang “Bud the Spud!” with Stompin’ Tom, watched splinters fly away.
Ate lobster at church suppers, could hardly walk away.
Picked potatoes for the farmers, back in our childhood years.
Crossed Confederation Bridge, eight miles long me dears!
A heritage that we all share, our blood is maritime.
We thrill to see the Bluenose, her picture on a dime.
Emotion for an ocean, gray Atlantic ever by,
Newfoundland, New Brunswick, Nova Scotia, PEI.
A heritage that we all share, our blood is maritime.
We thrill to see the Bluenose, her picture on a dime.
Emotion for an ocean, gray Atlantic ever by,
Newfoundland, New Brunswick, Nova Scotia, PEI.
Ellis Pringle Craig, 2024.
There is a catchy tune recorded during an earlier day.
This recording was made by the talented Eydie Gorme.
Yes, she was the same one who was Steve Lawrence’s wife.
The song turned out to be the biggest hit of her life.
On a popular dance she wanted to put the blame.
The “Bossa Nova” was what ignited her love flame.
A handsome guy caught her eye; then she wanted to dance.
Eydie said that was what started her romance.
Just listen to the song if it is something you don’t know.
Perhaps you might be one to fall in love also.
Consumption, please eat me
Before I explode
And vanish completely
I'd rather erode
Kill the craving
That's killing me so
Dying to sort
The disorder inside
Bag of entropy
Sack of skin
Outside empty
Chaos in
Particles scatter
Collapsing to fast
Mind over matter
Critical mass
Between a sky of pale blue, streaked with white,
and a glassy sea of royal blue,
there lies a land of lavender rock,
where wind blown grasses grow in briny
patches around weather beaten houses
brushed in pastel shades of yellow, pink,
and green and blue.
A grey fishing shack stands on silts
beyond the waters edge,
deep in rippling reflections of itself
and the sky that shimmers across the inlet
to the other side, where a dory
tethered to a dock stacked high with reels
of blue and orange ropes and buoys,
rests peacefully in the noon-day sun, with me,
on these long cold winter nights.
~~~~~
B eneath the cloudline shines one star that greets
R adiant flames with a murmured drawl,
E ager to shimmer on, yet dusk time fleets
A s winds peal their ballad to enthrall…
T ill glints the orchid like a jewel
H eavenly in the amber of light,
T eetering near the edge for a hued flight
A nd pearl its brightness reaching star’s cell …
K iln of glitter spreads on a marquee, where
I ridescence leaps its twinkling climb…
N ever a sight this breathless , this rare
G lorious oh nova and bloom… sublime!
Contest: Brian's Choice P
"Species Nova"
A letter from Horace
today, I read,
he sends his ample
split dichotomy
he’s a writer with
novel ambitions
to shake the world
of reality up a little
make his mark
he will be read
poets are extraordinary
creatures, when extracting
charms and chimaeras
out from their heads
but isn’t that life?
my over self said
sic vita est
sine loco
ars poetica
species nova
from the place of
nothingness emerges
fromless evolution
in laureate nature
stet ante bellum
sine loco
ars poetica
sic vita est
(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)
"He can be lofty sometimes,
yet he is also full of ...
charm and grace,
versatile in his figures,
and felicitously daring
in his choice of words..."
^b^
Lux Nova
(after Notre Dame)
The light at Suger's
St. Denis
precursor for mighty Notre Dame
Paints both floors in color.
Transliterated from the glass of guilds
Tracery and mullions
Adumbrate
A story in late winter's light
Perhaps enough, barely enough
Enough of an outline...
Still, colors bleed
Onto freshly scrubbed floors and
Sing in their own tongue.
A washbucket stands idle
Utensils erect and attentive
Listening for
A song sung to eyes, not ears
And that is what some call magic
For others
Inspiration...
To all
The lux nova.
I too have heard whispered prayers
Hushed reverence, suspirations of hope...
Nascent long ago
Even in the empty house
So still, so full of light.
Stone and the Areopagite
Make the stuff of building ---
But neo-Platonic rhythm on strings
Sound the noumenal
now real and
Find the unwinding of the literal
Amid limpid traces
Of flesh, reaching spirit
Like incensed smoke-trails
Seeking height.
Censers disgorge aspirations
History disgorges bodies and
fire destroys beauty.
Climbing inchoate dactyls
Finger the new braille
Of the new light...
Lux Nova
Noli me tangere...
And so it is ---
Light remains ineffable in its
Own incarnation...
One can re-build stone and timber
the rest
Resides inside...
^b^
FAREWELL TO NOVA SCOTIA
A net of cables stretching overhead in the mist to Dartmouth Bay:
Our boat slips under Angus McDonald bridge out into the Atlantic greys,
Leaving forever the blues and yellows of the clapboard houses and the days
Of Annapolis valley blossoms and hearing Pugwash bagpipes play.
Running the combers out to the horizon and slipping over, storm tossed:
The sight of our hilltops sinking away brings a salt taste of spirits lost,
Reaching, yearning to return just once to the fog-land we loved the most,
Jib and bowsprit stretching up from the water, farewell arm of a ghost,
We see again the beach at St. Mary’s with the crying gulls at their song,
And watch the whales blowing in Fundy’s Bay and the tides strong,
We follow the fish, the waves, the winds, summers short and winters long:
We know the cliffs where the land ends and where we belonged,
And the call of foghorns and the estuary lighthouses welcoming bright.
We walk the causeway at Canso Strait, left side frozen with St Lawrence ice white,
Right side side open to the water of the unfrozen Atlantic, dark as night.
We hear Nova Scotia call us : we’re home with our nets at last - and all’s right.
Come visit us under pink tinged twilight skies..
among boughs borne under a song laden tree.
In fair view of land, meadows green coiling rise,
one hundred twenty counted souls, and me.
The older children play, running in sun washed petticoats,
hair pulled back in pigtails & ribbons, an untied shoelace floats.
Their errant hoops gone tumbling over a dew covered hill,
wonder if sun refused to shine, and not mourning them still.
How resplendent a vessel, White Star's ship of dreams,
carried their passion as coal fed fired boiler steams.
Only to sink 'neath the waves, irony in iron age..
On maiden voyage Ides of April, warned her last writ page.
To the new world go mother, father, sisters and brothers,
prayers spent all would reach safety of harbor's bustling dock.
America's shores promised in the letters of others...
went as sheep to the shearer in Reaper's growing flock.
To third class cabin dimlit, down three flights of stairs,
their mortal passage payed so high a forlorned cost.
Waiting their turn for grace, their last supper's prayers,
scrape of ice., gaping ocean roared, in darkness lost.
God bore them one and all 'way from the tortured deep,
to cold windswept mount where saints and survivors weep.
"Nothing in my hands I bring, simply to Thy cross I cling"
(The supernova observed from
Earth in 1572 was a major event
in human thought, because if
stars could explode, then they
couldn't be eternal lamps,
hung out by God.)
The cold stars glimmered
where they hung
in their accustomed places
on the underside of heaven.
The imperceptible gavotte
proceeded up aloft:
those little silver lamps,
dipping or climbing,
went about their business
oblivious of human time.
A scholar of the firmament,
incurious, unthrilled,
at ease with the inevitable,
the trueness of meridians,
stared up, unflinching.
The milky smudge of Cassiopeia
swam into his lens's narrow field,
and our student of the permanent now saw
that which he knew he could not see.
It caused no greater shock
than a snarl of irritation.
We always miss the moment.
The quiet glory of that tiny cloud
of far-off starstuff
marked the noiseless passing
of some unknowable sun.
And though the watcher did not know,
he was party, too,
to a monumental dying.
Super Nova – Haiku
cosmic void opened
super nova explosion
bathed in light, reaching
The phenomenon, as it manifests itself over the course of a journey.
It turned me into an Orion in the form of rudimentary
When life’s trying to surpass me,
I suffice against suffrage and then I see
I strive for change, living in the Trans Lunar.
My body is here on Earth, but my mind is elsewhere.
Vigorous belief in the morning star
I ducked, crawled, and hid in things and behind.
I was laughed at, hated, and blind.
My heart is broken as a lost child,
but my intuition tells me not to give up.
It turned out to be ironic because
of where I was sitting. and I stand up.
I defy the prophecy of a wiry-breaking tongue.
in chaos for the poor child, Angels sang
I take my deterioration in appreciation.
From slavery, I built, in my own mind, a nation.
My eccentricity should not be dejected.
It's now a useless iron that can't be dedicated.
My time is now. I am in for an overwhelming delight.
The purpose of my life gave me strength for the fight.
Here I stand in front. I am the supernova.
It begins the story of my life. It’s not over
Blip on my radar
Twinkling flickering nova
Far off flashing star
By Robb A. Kopp