Best Saucer Poems
the flying saucer
missing my head by an inch
did you notice it?
Another as-I-go poem-and a true story (Even I still don't believe it!!!)
Three years ago, on a clear, nice sunny day...
By son and I were driving, just on our merry way
For some reason, why I wonder, I looked up and was shocked to see
A classic flying saucer, slowly cruising just above me!
Now, needlessly, I'm sure, you'll doubt what I will say
Even I do, but come what may, and even to this day
I couldn't utter a single word, so much was my surprise
I blinked and blinked, and blinked again, I could not believe my eyes!
I merely pointed up, for my son to take note
He followed my pointing finger
And, of a joint, he felt like he had a tote
Our jaws dropped open, both of us agape
It might as well been Superman, flying in his cape
Bright metallic silver, silent as a dove
Cruised on by before us, 500 feet above
Headed east over Queens county
at a slow andcomfortable pace,
I guess there's more out there,
than just the human race
So when next you see a movie
A science fiction tale..
With saucers and aliens too
Don't laugh it off my friend
Cause it is really true!!
A droplet of rain,
Nestled within a curled leaf:
Thirsty reflections.
Chaucer and a Cup and Saucer
I just had been reading some Chaucer
When I picked up a cup from its saucer
Looked below and by chance saw Chaucer's name
Would this help me find much fortune and fame?
Now could it really be that Canterbury Tails
Have been hard to read when the light fails
And one was a tall tale about a parsonigin
Who was first to come up with name Carcinogen.
Chaucer's style was rather nonchalant
All of his handsomeness others would haunt
With clothes full of ruffles, buttons and bows
And what is else only haven now knows.
When Chaucer wrote, it was with a vengeance
Which in those days was only worth two pence
Later held his book and it around was swirling
Then later sold it for around two pound sterling.
Book was dirty so we washed it with a bath
And am not quite whether it was have or hath
Finally, after they reached a happy accord
Mine eyes saw glory coming from the Lord.
James Thomas Horn
SAUCER
We are proud of our newspaper “Saucer”
They say It will never be a pauser
Words run like pigeon
From every region
And deliver truth like a howitzer
spilling on bare skin flowering before the leaves blushing pink to white
A flying saucer landed
In a farmer's fallow field.
It had come from far away,
Beyond Orion's starry shield.
The aliens were mystified.
They giggled and they squealed.
The cows were in the pasture,
Chewing on their cud.
They watched the flying saucer
As it landed in the mud.
They bellowed as the hatchway
Descended with a thud.
The farmer drove his tractor
Beside tall stalks of corn.
A flock of crows erupted
When he tooted on his horn.
They flew inside the spaceship
On that cool September morn.
The aliens were studying
The farmer's dairy herd.
They saw their craft invaded
By the band of big black birds.
Legs retracted, hatchway shut!
The flying saucer whirred!
The moral of this story
Is very plain to see.
It will be written down somewhere
In Alien History.
ALWAYS SHUT THE CABIN DOOR,
AND DON'T FORGET THE KEY!
I have an important message
for man's best friend
humming like rolling wheels at 90
incandescent like a hubcap overhead
listen to this you highway palm readers
the pressure in this tire
is anatomically incorrect
and at four atmospheres
ALERT! ALERT!
all radar units report your locI and foci
on the plan-it planet,
space never got named
by causes and their waiting effects
the secret of death
is to pay no attention to it
I go with the info dear recipient
info in outfo out
if we never meet
tell them I ain't invisible
it may not be much
but it won't be enough either
wheels for legs radio screaming
entertaining beyond abomination
we Febrilacs from planet Nu-Oc
speak our own language,
if monotony generates subtlety
it must be high resolution
because others have done so
is not enough
in zero plastic space
the big molecule
a million moving parts
sonic on the inside freezing out
do we try to figure it out in
here's the secret
amnesia is the root of all comedy
blame it on the invisible
beans from outer space
and their gift
the list of blisters
Silver saucered shaped spaceship dreams.
magnificent silver space suit please;
as I journey to a cosmic galaxy full of extraordinary things,
floating endlessly in a kaleidascopic machine;
the void of space is insignificant when light beams,
a field of planets to watch as the spaceship glides into an atmosphere fit for human beings;
a glimpse of a world so magical like being born again but is it a dream,
I see oceans of colours of that I have never ever seen;
pink gargantuan dolphins jumping ten feet out of a purple wavy sea,
a land of such diversity and fruit on every single tree;
green jelly tasty and strawberry creams,
animals who speak english and say good morning and thankyou and beg your pardon if you please;
all different shapes and sizes and colours it seems,
I find opals and diamonds and ruby's in magnificent tall orange and yellow rock faces as high as the eye can see;
but I have no one to share all this with and I remember and wake from my dream,
eight fifteen in the morning and the alarm that satan made rings and rings and rings;
next time I go back their I will take a girl and we can go skinny dipping with the gargantuan pink dolphins and after we can talk politics to the bright blue owl that sits in the green jelly trees.
Twenty years ago this month I was in Enid A. Haupt Garden, a manicured
garden surrounded by two rows of saucer magnolia trees. The magnolious
large, cup shaped flowers showcasing breathtaking display of white or
pinkish-purple petals with outer petals of darker shade of pink or purple.
The petals, thick, soft and velvety scattered on the ground and benches.
I was swept away by the pleasant fragrance and captivated by the scent, a
combination of sweet, floral and slightly citrusy. A fragrance so noticeable
for the scent wafted through the garden, creating a pleasing aroma, like a
sweet lemony candy. Unforgettable! When will I see and smell them again?
Saucer xx427P54 to Saucer xx37PR4
and two digits more – Earth again
Sabre Rattling its nukes: We've
seen this before, on other worlds
eventually reduced, to Radio Active
Pukes – Though an age-old way-station
for our alien species, when exploring,
or simply on vacation, should we
finally X-off this Tumultuous Turd?
Write across its sky, a large 4 letter
word, ending with “You” – telling
them they are globally through...
So hopeless the lot of them seem;
the opinion now of our entire Space
Team – Why bother to compel them
to stop? – maybe the Universe would
be far better off, if they were replaced
with an artificial, more congenial
galactic top....
It has all been said before, nothing is new.
I write these words and hold them
for a while, connecting me to here.
Then they snap free as I move on - each
word falling motionless on a page or asleep
in some silicone twilight waiting
to be retrieved. Too soon all will begin
to disintegrate, be deleted or thrown away.
I would like to be eased out of here
and become what I see. That soft light
falling outside my window anointing
the first fragile leaves, its joyous dance
in a saucer that the rain filled last night.
Nothing there seems to wish for more,
just a moment to inhabit and an audience
in me.
Breaking through day,
the last night,
where the mirror
on glass lips posed
for a new moon,
that only masked
its face in ebony
brims of space
trapping in my ache,
with cedar pandoras
making the bleakest
of songs; a
viridescent heart—
under sylvan skin;
back to sun's cloned moon;
her moody phases
cut you, while
salt gives the
macadam a required
taste— alone,
with an empiricism
of waste; but in a
candle's whiffs,
the flames—
round and round in
my head— afer an
evening's quivering
prayers, fixated on
poppies in morning—
breaking through day.
Monday
Quick! Arm the army
Lucifer has gone barmy
Where’s the witch when we need her?
Having a strop, the silly mare
Stoke the anger of battle
This is more than tittle tattle
Rumours be damned
Satan’s got this thing planned
She primed up her flying disc
A big win came with equal risk
With luck her enemy would be drunk
His power, nob and ego may have shrunk
Like the niceness he once had
Before he went all black and bad
Getting the boot from God upon high
So much became nigh!
It was up to the witch now
To turn the Devil into a cow!
With cunning and luck
She’ll hit him like a damn truck
And end this thing
Like a failed bloody fling
But that was impossible
Like a flying pig was possible
Juniper’s Daughter: Fookin' Weech
Nick Armbrister