Best Re Entry Poems
"Colours in a Cloud Speak"
The colours
of a world
speak
no one
has time
to listen
The spectrums
speak like
music, lucid
like clouds
that pulse ultraviolet
in front of you
through wide open
windows, unavoidable,
some strange dream
your eyes see,
but do not
speak
the unbelieved
reels in the
unbelievable
we live
in these odd times
we observe meanings subliminal
that no one else
other than we
in our own moment
believe,
could see
on the peripheral
of even
like odd
evening clouds
in the small hours
that pulse curious
purple, then ultraviolet,
points of calculus
invading our
small space, try reasoning
watching us
as we move in
some strange elusive dream
a beacon
calling us
home,
some strange home
calls us crazy, we are
cats cradles cartwheeling
unreachable
we think, it exists
somewhere else,
other than this,
in the
in between
unseen
we exist
we dream
we try to live
what we see,
is not real,
it’s spun
like fairy floss
in the machinations
of the others' schemes
sugar tastes sweet
addictive, we are lost
in the after taste
wanting more
of what we
know is their drug
what we are taught
from birth to see,
is not the real of reality
our minds are locked
from time of rebirth,
re-entry
into
well-rehearsed territory
birth pains burning
the inevitability,
truth hits us
the gravity glitching
karma circles
Ferris wheels
that stop occasionally
to let us
get on
get off
it could be
realer
than real
the mysterious colour
hidden in clouds
we touch
in our dreams
we are like
comets falling
(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)
cat's cradle
noun
a child's game in which a loop of string is put around and between the fingers and complex patterns are formed.
Harry Chapin - Cats in the Cradle
I can't wait to unwrap it
The tasty nuggets
The smell, I gotta have it
The greasy hot fries
Box bursting with joy
Oh my gosh
Toy!
April 29th (re-entry)
American cosmonaut
moonwalking
Humanity is tethered to the line,
sweating vacuum fear facing the void
Planet of the apes ...
backwards talking
Silent film projector reel
spinning in reverse ... time capsule re-entry noise
Caveman slug in a spacesuit
retrograde crawling
Mushroom cloud cinematography ...
flashback to the future Stone Age trajectory
And Superman in a Captain America spacesuit
ain’t trying to save no one
The giant red star of Krypton
orbiting Washington
is gonna explode,
sucking the Earth into a black hole
Listen to the Neanderthal war chants
devolving into military gorilla grunts
Toraburu ... Rising sun trouble coming
Hear the nuclear choo-choo,
rich uranium promises ain’t worth nothing
Woe, woe ... woe!
Tick, tick ... lunar ... tick, tick
Trouble means Toraburu,
choo-choo ... choo-choo
Woe, woe ... woe!
Tick, tick ... lunar ... tick, tick
Toraburu,
lost in space translation
Hear the choo-choo,
around the bend coming is nuclear devastation
And Super Tweetman in a Captain America spacesuit
ain’t trying to save no one
The white dwarf star of Krypton
orbiting Washington
is gonna implode,
sucking the Earth into a black hole
Superman can you climb
out of the bottomless black hole?
American cosmonaut
moonwalking ...
backwards talking ...
retrograde crawling
Toraburu ... Rising sun trouble coming
Hear the nuclear choo-choo,
rich uranium promises ain’t worth nothing
Woe, woe ... woe!
Tick, tick ... lunar ... tick, tick
Rubble piles of Toraburu,
choo-choo ... choo-choo
Woe, woe ... woe!
Tick, tick ... lunar ... tick, tick
Toraburu,
trouble for the United Nations
Hear the choo-choo,
around the bend coming is global desolation
Toraburu,
insanity curse is coming soon
Death smoke from the choo-choo,
will blot out the sun and moon
Woe, woe ... woe!
Superman is kryptonite sick
Woe, woe ... woe!
Tick, tick ... lunar ... tick, tick
Captain America is radiation sick
Woe, woe ... woe!
Tick, tick ... lunar ... tick, tick
It seemed like
An innocent experiment
Simple enough
I had read the steps
Bedtime routine out of the way
I was ready to start
Relaxing tape playing for ambiance
I was gone in an instant
With zero recollection of
The next thirty minutes
When I heard a thunderous clic
Most annoying signal
The music had suddenly stopped
Overcome with a blissful calm feeling
I refused to open my eyes
Having a very different reaction
Than my bedfellow
Who was quite unaware of
My little experiment
While he was busy
Screaming and throwing pillows
At the figure there in the dark
Standing motionless at the foot of the bed
I managed to let slip out
A couple of reassuring “it’s ok’s”
Eyes still blissfully closed
As I was savoring
The last milliseconds
Of my soul’s sudden re-entry
Briskly sucked in
Inches above my navel
With almost a slurping sound
That was my first and last astral trip
A little too very real for my liking
AP: Honorable Mention 2023
Ripples
A sudden chime reiterates
She touches the world
A fingertip
And ripples sent
Resolves
Inward
Feed back
Distant
Hits resounding light
Fluent curls
She signals
Waves repeating
Sent ripples
Outward
Washing through
Eternal
A holding breath for a moment
Landscaping emotions
Swell
As she dips
Down upon the re-entry
Calling ripples sent
On waking
Reappearing
Gathers the hems and skirts of beauty
Reminding
The day turns
Me on a pendulum swing
She senses me
Ever to her
Ripples sending
Returning
And every morning I stand and wait
Looking over the edge
Out over a precipice
Waiting
While the cool morning winds are warming
I hang in a moment
She touches the world
Rippling
"Alienation"
Burning through the atmosphere
a diamond hugs herculean, demanding, meteoric,
fast like a sharp spear aimed at Zion in the
obsidian night sky deep, so vast, dotted here
and there with other anaemic diamantés
twinkling, then dimming, as if in despair,
they don’t shine as bright
nor so fair,
this immolator is without peer
Lion of Judah, presence felt near.
A shooting star into the stratosphere?
Leaving a blistering debris trail in its wake.
A Sonic Boom breaks through the veil
sends out sound waves, touching, feeling,
slightly off-rail
sends out a Revelation heralding
resounding eardrum shattering tear -
KA-BOOM!
just like some glamour chick’s walked into the room
in 6 inch killer stilettos,
curve hugging deep velvet
the sub-level indigo blues,
shaking everything in the place
slams the door, her audience now captive
is frozen in place, tittering amongst themselves,
“Here’s something new”;
the world awakes to
crushed violets, heliotropes, shell pinks, eggshell pale blues;
she rises above him
he lifts his face.
Arrival in this
AlienNation
no Ocean, a barren place
Holding pattern and station.
Her vessel lands with a thud,
breaks the bedrock, dirt
she steps through the portal
away from it all, she’s escaping
this asylum,
it’s not evolving, it’s not birth
a re-entry of sorts,
a vacuum sucking back down to
Deadly Earth.
(Lovejoy-Burton/ Dec 2017)
(1)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MEfqTlKPqfI
The College Caravan
Last night we loaded the minivan with her
suitcases, Rubbermaid vats, and chest of plastic drawers
stuffed with clothing, toiletries, school supplies, and posters.
While our vehicle is tightly packed, her room stands hollow;
drained of stuff and spirit, except for the furniture she left behind
like the last icicle melting unnoticed in the spring thaw.
Morning’s excitement, today’s foreseen guest, found her passkey
so early, she displaced the alarm clock, announcing her presence.
On the verge of adventure, our cramped van vacates the driveway,
eager to meet the other jammed vehicles joining our journey.
Sporadic chatter splinters moments of spurned monotony,
spanning the miles amassing in our rearview mirror until …
A hatchback hauling a heavy load leads our line exiting for the rest
stop, where the parking lot hosts vehicle after vehicle stuffed with
suitcases, Rubbermaid vats, and chests of plastic drawers …
Our re-entry acceleration runs smoothly, courtesy of a
clamshell-covered car graciously slowing to permit our advance.
From sedans to SUV’s, the right lane is flush with fenders and
families, forming a cohesive chain whose links approach “The Exit”
signaling for the deceleration lane. The college caravan, flowing
onto the exit ramp and through the green light, turns and winds
along Main Street. As the minivans, hatchbacks, clamshell-covered
cars, and SUV’s pour onto college campus USA, they’re carrying
suitcases, Rubbermaid vats, chests of plastic drawers,
and, of course, the proud, nervous parents …
escorting the Freshman Class of 2018!
E. V. Wyler
I was sitting in my room,
Looking at the stars,
When all of a sudden,
I thought I saw Mars,
I went out of the house,
And looked all around,
I got into my rocket ship,
Straight off the ground.
Milky Way Dairy,
Here I come,
My pockets are full,
To spend on my tum.
Oh, gosh how many
People are here,
Guess I’ll have to queue,
That’s pretty clear
I got out of my ship,
And saw the rotator,
I turned and saw a
Wow kind of waiter,
A strange looking alien,
And laden with shakes,
And to my relief,
I also see choc. Flakes!
The stools are actually ,
Floating in mid-air,
And the waiters mingle
Around, with such flair.
I say to the waiter I’ll
Have a Sundae, Oh
Never mind,
Make that a Monday!
What a menu this is,
And oh what a choice,
After spending my money
I’ll have no voice!
But truly folks,
The Milky Way is a treat,
And you come by Rocket ship,
Such a cool feat!
Take the family there,
And on arrival you’ll find,
A Drive-thru and menu
That’s One of a kind!
So first take a left,
And then a sharp right,
And the Milky way Dairy,
Is almost in sight!
And there in the skies,
And amongst all the stars,
Lies a dream world of Sundaes,
Flakes and Milky bars.
I entered this contest yesterday as a re-post but noticed today it was not on my list of poems so did the necessary.
Re-entry from a posted poem from APRIL 2019
POEM COMPETITION : Nonsense Rhyme Poetry Contest
Sponsor : Charles Messina
2021/09/12
How I cherish this time of the day,
When my lover passes by. That gleam in her eye,
Letting me know, her intention is true,
And now it is time to play.
Like smoke she lingers before me,
With a single pass. Her innocent essence. I gasp,
Trawling her night shadow behind,
She encapsulates me.
Transcending into her watery depth,
From heel to toe, bended knee to divine luxury,
Encapsulating her majestic body within,
I submit, gently washing her silk cortex.
Emerging from heated pool, she begins to sway,
I surge & break fall. We land ourselves, upon cold wall,
Our eyes never depart from each other,
Her cheeky grin implies I must stay.
She grasps hold during our slow rise,
My shoulders clench taut, thighs clasp tight in embrace,
Her feet heave up from the ground,
I vow never to release her firm vice.
Together we dance as one,
Biting kiss upon neck, she wraps arms, we've begun,
My girth ruptures as she is splayed astride,
Silently she moans, "...Make love to me Hun."
I gently place her up & away,
Upon leather-clad pad, strapped to chains, haven above,
I release her to caress, loves motion applies the rest,
I whisper "...Sway Baby, Sway".
Hair thrown back upon breeze,
Lover's delight, steam rising upon sight,
Upon departure & re-entry, she continues to glisten,
Her first luxury comes with ease.
I raise my jilted lover's head,
Forsaken she submits to my hunger & intent,
I cast & expose my maiden down,
Caressing her wounds upon bed.
I am now captured by my own prey,
Arched back, penetrated and interlocked by firm thigh,
She motions to submerge my soul deep within,
Together we sing lullaby.
"...Sway baby, Sway".
(C) 2015 PJ Bayliss
Some thought they heard a lover's fight.
To save the woman, no one tried.
When she was struggling that night,
some thought they heard a lover's fight!
Some saw her stagger out of sight. . .
where stabbed, then raped, she later died.
Some thought they heard a lover's fight.
To save the woman, no one tried.
Written April 25, 2016 now a re-entry for the Being Invisible Contest of Skat
For Picture #3: She was drowning, but nobody saw her struggle
Exercising belief about unknowns.
Makes sense to take your best guess.
Using history, numbers, extrapolation.
Getting the trajectory right for re-entry.
Few dissenters left for climate change, evolution.
Nuclear power brings a process to earth
that occurs only in space. Dangerous
but necessary? Not a risk-averse weasel.
One among many mammals is the weasel,
not known for its consideration of unknowns
but, for its extreme caloric needs, considered dangerous.
My wife says in England violent gusts
forced a locomotive off its tracks. One interpretation
might reasonably be that the mother, earth,
has stopped mothering man. We're entering
a period of unknowns and must evolve.
What might this involve
and what adjustments are possibly feasible?
Walking rather than riding to the subway entrance,
using less electricity until more is known,
preserving agricultural soils and forest land,
buying fewer plastic contraptions.
My brother's washing his pajamas less often.
None of this may make the slightest difference
in how the earth and the sun and universe revolve.
But we are human and addicted to action,
the probable less attractive than the possible.
Also, there's no percentage in respecting death
unless it's imminent. Better to remain centered,
focused on food, child-bearing, war and the poem.
All driveways plowed, all lawns mowed.
Just in time before the first snow, I raked our leaves.
Two eight hour days. What percent of all time is that?
Draw a ray with point A the first pile of leaves
extending to the extrapolating end of universe.
.01 of Aaron. Zero of Zach.
Hawks playing, hunting, mating, canaries in the mine.
Having been too many places to count.
Sex bars, infant formulas, fire crews, last rites, permanent jobs, traffic
tickets, judges' chambers, out houses, wedding banquets, boiling
teapots, frantic centuries, facial tissues, presumed innocent, clear
intentions, stainless steel.
Spiderweb glove. Deerfly earring. Daddylonglegs seeingeyedog.
Memorized songs. Privatized loans.
You cannot know what you're doing until you've done it.
Erudite sweep the floor. Articulate make the bed.
Infrared town hall. Crab nebula. Your last crap.
Eye of the tropical January sun. Slouching toward temperate zone.
Calamities…
assaulted by the Memorial Day tsunami
drowned victims & floating cars--
appendix detonates during the Season of Hell
haplessly hospitalized in the UT-Austin medical zoo
Delusion of progress…
recovering in the mobile home
plodding through texts of
postmodern pointlessness--
overcome with visions of nuclear annihilation
Life is a plunge…
sensory overload & self-deconstruction--
reading "One Hundred Years of Solitude"
pondering Camus’ only philosophical question
does Jung have the answer?
Re-entry into the (ir)real world…
Labor Day blues & academic angst
surrounded by yi(u)ppies--
mesmerized by Eastern philosophy
crushed by existential dread
The Being & Nothingness of Texas...
The Longhorns won/lost The Game
primal braying & primitive reveling
avoiding the orange phallic madness
evading beer bottles hurled by frat boys
Monstrous cockroaches inherit the Earth…
discombobulated by the sadistic heat
I ram my fist into a case of Lone Star
“The horror, the horror” as Kurtz opined
can I still resurrect myself?
Five packed together in one car…
a circuitous journey to South Padre Island
silent white sand & red star suspended over the Gulf
hypnotic waves & harsh words in the condo
the Odyssey is (in)complete(d)
I like his confidence, that working the problem
will certainly result in better outcomes than guessing.
A rationalist who does not depend on a higher power
to direct his decisions, but who may concede,
observe, realize and accept that he lacks the data
or the skills or tools to interpret data and these
decisions he leaves to his god.
But not before
thoroughly assessing the limits of his power. Guessing
before guessing is necessary makes things worse. The skills,
tools and experience are the accumulated wisdom
of earlier experts in his field.
Yet each generation
of communicants must examine the assumptions
from which the mathematics, logic, science or law
was derived. Rebuild the proofs from the simplest
truths, laws, physics. Taking God's first and only words
and extrapolating correctly, getting the trajectory
right for successful take off and re-entry.
And then
to explain the derivations to your students.
Until they too can care for the species and the planet,
making whole sentences, formulas and melodies
from few words, numbers, notes.
For those we've met in life we've had some say,
Not why God introduced them there.
But whether we'd embrace, or back away,
Or permit leaving, trusting God for their care.
Between this separation and re-entry,
Passed a span of time counted as "Lost Years".
Missing days enumerated to a quarter century,
Yet, for us, were ensconced with love and fears.
As we now glance hinder, as if into a pool,
We weigh, if those lost years we could reverse.
Would years be found the same or less cruel;
Perhaps those imperative years were to rehearse?
So, our dear sister in Christ, rue not lost years,
For we feel God has put aside our best for last.
And as for sadness, let us bottle mental tears,
While basking in the goodness that He has cast.
The sum of our experiences have made us who we are today,
Vostok 1
Within the time allotted
of eighty-nine minutes,
to orbit the planet Earth
at 17,500 miles per hour,
the Russian cosmonaut
inside the Vostok capsule
espies the distinctive
features of Earth,
from two hundred miles above
its surface.
And reflects upon
the physical violence
of energetic movement
that formed terra firma;
then watches the sun’s rays
penetrate the atmosphere
and thinks of the warmth
inside the magnetic shield.
He sees the beauty of the blues
deposited from frozen comets.
Out here, it’s so tranquil,
thinks Yuri Gagarin,
the first person in space.
“Cedar to Dawn,
I see Earth. The visibility is excellent, over!”
His message relays
to the Soviet command station.
Then, the Vostok retros fire over Africa
for gravity to force re-entry,
and readies himself for ejection
four miles above the Volga River
basin drainage system.
***
Notes:
On April 12, 1961, Yuri Gagarin (1934–1968), aboard Vostok 1, launched from Baikonur Cosmodrome, Kazakhstan, USSR, at 6:07 am local time. The total mission lasted 108 minutes. He was the first person in space and the first person to orbit the Earth.
In order to escape gravity, the capsule needs to hit 7.9 km/s or 17,500 miles per hour, which is orbital velocity (approximately 20 times the speed of sound).
Vostok: “Vostok” means “east” in Russian.
Cedar (Kedr-Russian pine): Gagarin’s call sign.
Dawn (Zarya): Launch facility call sign.
On May 5, 1961, Alan Shepard (1923–1998) was the first American astronaut launched into space, and John Glenn (1921–2016) became the first American astronaut to orbit the Earth on Feb. 20, 1962.