Best Sidereal Poems
Sonnet I
In realms of emerald hush where sunlight strains.
Through veils of green. A silent throng takes root.
A clovered congregation on the plains
Their stoic forms a timeless lushful loot.
No melodies from throats unseen they sing.
No pleas for mortal ken their silence breaks.
Yet in their rooted quietude they bring
A symphony for Nature's gentle stakes.
From dust they rise, by unseen hands embraced
To greet the dawn's first kiss, a deep-green dream.
Unfurling fronds that grasp the sun's warm face...
A silent pact with life's sidereal stream.
No eyes behold the light their essence drinks
No lips confess the air for which it thinks.
Sonnet II
Through fragrant whispers secretly softly pass
On unseen currents borne a cryptic lore
A web of messages that dance like grass.
A wisdom! newly sworn on Nature's floor -
No clash of arms? no battles fought in vain.
Yet messages they send on silent wings...
A language dovetailed deep, a copious chain,
A bond that knows no end, the green world sings.
With patient strength... they pierce the earth's cold hold.
A testament to will unyielding. Strong!
Unmoved by tempests' raging fury bold,
Their roots like anchors grip where they belong.
A silent war against the storm's harsh might.
A battle fought unseen, in verdant light.
Corona
A quiet war in bright green
A song for animals and plants
Listen to people in every green leaf.
No songs from hidden throats they sing.
Through fragrant, sotto voce... secrets softly pass
Their stoic forms a timeless lushful loot.
Couplet
A lesson composed in green, a truth to glean.
Where verdant nature creates and wisdom sings.
A crepuscular theatrical serene speech prompt,
slip spill in an echoey pattern down my soft skinned ear,
as I was captivated by the gloss quilt luminance of,
glow worm stars, silver moon tarpaulin, indigo horizon,
elysian sidereal dust that so magnetic trance,
I dwell on flawless antique navy blue tapestry,
of enthralling nocturnal mirth streamed murmur,
timelessness a slow tick second hand mesmerizer,
symbiotic solitude on moulded granite bench,
whets intense yearning as my elevated odyssey,
where gilded gust a universal sage’s hint from,
invisible zone whose through the age enchantment,
forevermore a velvet hush, a lush chrysalis,
metamorphosis at a peek, diurnal cyclic mystery,
forevermore I am an affluent lodger to telluric haven
riddle of the night
unveils its lucid passage,
beyond mortal span
Heaven within an effervescent spiral steam moiety,
juxtaposed across emblazoned morning patch
immortal,
of swooning sun whose rays bounce off garnet veins,
me, spectator, bard, curator of reflection for posterity,
this tantalised dawdler in a dewdrop leaf coppice,
majestic mountain summit under dawn spell,
arousing passionate interwoven interface of cordial,
bonhomie link to merriment, auroral pathos,
perpetual and beyond expansive firmament,
romantic fingertip alignment in surreal fog tango,
where pounding heart oath infinite in salient scope,
blue lagoon bounty, argent cascade, rainbow chaser,
dizzy upper echelon beauteous my twinkled torrent of delirium,
forevermore, longer longing, forever as this wonder world dervish,
waltzing through eternal mists, with my zest for life,
as gold encrusted passport to a rapturous paradise
daylight points the way
to lasting beauty on earth
cherish the vista
An afterlife awaits a star
on having bid its au revoir
in supernova’s days of yore,
with remnant of collapsing core
impressionistic as Renoir.
The cosmos leaves the door ajar
for astral evolution far
with pulsar winds wherefrom outpour
an afterlife.
In vast sidereal memoir,
through brilliant stellar repertoire,
midst universe’s evermore
with skies our astro-eyes explore,
from starry stuff we humans are
an afterlife.
~ Harley White
* * * * * * * * *
“We are made of stellar ash. Our origin and evolution have been tied to distant cosmic events. The exploration of the cosmos is a voyage of self-discovery.”
~ Carl Sagan, Cosmos
The poem is a rondeau ~ a short poem of fixed form, consisting of 13 lines (plus the phrase twice) on two rhymes and having the opening words or phrase used in two places as an unrhymed refrain.
Inspiration for poem from article and image ~ G292.0+1.8: Stellar Forensics with Striking Image from Chandra
Explanation from Chandra ~ This supernova remnant shows us just how complex a star’s afterlife can be! About 20,000 light years from Earth, G292.0+1.8 contains a pulsar left behind after the death of a massive star, as well as other features that give scientists insight into supernova remnant evolution.
For centuries of ancient thought
cosmic harmonies have been sought
in the vast eternal motion
of the grand galactic ocean.
To some the twinkling sky inspires
poems about celestial choirs.
But if those serenades occur
it’s just as if they never were,
since sounds of stars cannot be heard
‘tis said, not even by a bird,
nor bat or dolphin, beast or man;
for frequencies are higher than
any species of mammal can
detect in auditory span.
Albeit space may ‘silent’ be,
the waves traverse that spatial sea,
which scientists convert to sound.
Plus other systems have been found.
With asteroseismology,
a useful methodology,
“starquake” flickers of light can turn
into sonancy to discern.
Still, stars are sounding on their own,
with song motifs as yet unknown,
Aural hums and thrums they render
symphonize great Nature’s splendor
in astro-plasma pulses strange
from universe’s tonal range,
like resonance of bells immense
ariose in a stellar sense,
with strains, refrains sidereal,
majestic sounds ethereal.
Is there a unifying theme
melodious in heavens’ scheme?
If only humans had the ears
to hear the music of the spheres!
~ Harley White
* * * * * * * * *
“Each celestial body, in fact each and every atom, produces a particular sound on account of its movement, its rhythm or vibration. All these sounds and vibrations form a universal harmony in which each element, while having its own function and character, contributes to the whole.” ~ Pythagoras
Inspiration derived from article with image, “Have researchers discovered the sound of the stars?”
A pair of blue wings is hovering
against the inky black covering
within ‘Little Fox’ constellation
of Vulpecula designation,
portrayed with stipple sidereal
in Hubble image ethereal,
‘Hen two dash four three seven’ labeled.
A hen with fox is Aesop fabled,
except it was really a crow
in that apologue still apropos
where pride overcame the bird’s good sense,
so fox got the food through the pretense
of disparaging its corvine caw;
thus the crow dropped the cheese from its jaw.
There are many stories much the same.
In Middle Ages the bird became
chanticleer; Chaucer’s ‘Canterbury
Tales’ has one that warns to be wary
of flattery false and specious praise,
since fox on inflated ego plays
with rooster to hear his special cry,
hence to distract and snatch him thereby.
Yet fox falls prey to his own conceit,
and chanticleer flees to tree retreat.
But coming back to high-flying hen
which Hubble’s scope brought within our ken,
this nebula with glowing surround
was by stargazer Minkowski found
then by Henize later catalogued
as nebula with the name befogged
in misleading term planetary,
for that title is quite contrary
to remnant of an imploded star,
which is indeed what those objects are.
As shown by the wings, it’s bipolar,
cast off from a star like ours solar
which nearing end of its astral span
swelled to red giant’s flash in the pan
then sent forth its layers into space,
as a white dwarf for core took its place…
And yet my inspiration’s essence
came from the alae’s luminescence
seen in this vast stelliferous sight
against the canvas of cosmic night.
Still, one might fancy those whizzing wings
borne by empyreal bird that sings
melodies wafted amidst the spheres
only a starry-eyed poet hears.
~ Harley White
* * * * * * * * *
The image and info can be found by looking up Hen 2-437 on the net.
There are places out in space
that beg the question of why,
abiding where dreams embrace
our infinite inner sky.
Stargazers pay attention
to sidereal pathways,
tracing every dimension,
some using astral math ways.
Scientists study each fact
and what their instruments find
of astronomic impact
in terms of matter and mind.
The poets wordily lithe
of celestial wonders sing
with lofty spirits and blithe
as upward their fancies wing.
Throughout human death and birth
we’ve gazed at the heavens awed
while creating hell on earth
through cause and effect that’s flawed.
We see not with precision
through mortal perceptions, but
with illusory vision
pretentiously say what’s what.
And yet, if the truth be told,
in our braggadocio
of verities we behold,
how little we truly know!
There are dreams beyond our dreams
that fly in the face of fear,
where all is more than it seems
to casual eye and ear.
In evolution stellar
a flash was observed in view
from dying cosmic dweller
that brought it to life anew…
If stars come back from the dead
reborn in a blaze of light,
who knows what might lie ahead
beyond our limited sight?
~ Harley White
* * * * * * * * *
Inspiration for poem derived from article with image ~ "Astronomers observe star reborn in a flash"…
"An international team of astronomers using Hubble have been able to study stellar evolution in real time. Over a period of 30 years dramatic increases in the temperature of the star SAO 244567 have been observed. Now the star is cooling again, having been reborn into an earlier phase of stellar evolution. This makes it the first reborn star to have been observed during both the heating and cooling stages of rebirth."
My genealogical family tree
was traced by a relative distant,
thus uncovering ancestral names for me,
of some who had seemed nonexistent.
The past came alive in my fantasy world
with visions of settings dramatic,
as I felt myself in scenario hurled
that verged on a theme operatic.
Some fancies akin rose from imagery mix
of five different wavelengths and hues
in Wide Field, of NGC one eight six six,
with orange-red old stars, young in blues.
It’s a globular cluster considered strange
in Dorado constellation found,
with sidereal periods of wide range,
hence a stelliferous bunch renowned.
One hundred sixty thousand light-years away
from Earth, at Large Magellanic’s brink
(a galaxy cloud turning round Milky’s sway),
this massive multitude seems to sync
youthful stars with others from former ages,
through metallicity analyzed,
dissimilar in stellar saga stages,
which left astronomers quite surprised,
because it appeared unexpectedly young.
James Dunlop, credited with the act
of discovery, still has his praises sung
for listing a host of stars in fact.
Indeed, it was in eighteen twenty-six that
the Scottish stargazer spied the group
noteworthy, and catalogued where it was at,
assigning a label to the troop.
In the case of this cluster Hubble captured
with varied residents in the crowd,
perhaps a new star batch was manufactured
in rendezvous with a huge gas cloud,
as in a cosmic orchestral creation
with melodies that interrelate,
scored by composer of stellar vocation
for astronomical concert great.
An opus like Handel’s, supernally grand,
might sound and resound in the cluster,
with symphonic reach universally spanned,
in radiant star-studded luster,
while music mellifluous echoes in spheres,
or so my reveries rhapsodize,
to harmonies chorused by stellary peers
that resonate through celestial skies.
Generations of humankind here on Earth,
measured in cadenced metrical bars,
could be likened to fugue theming death and birth…
Might we be analogous to stars?
~ Harley White
* * * * * * * * *
Inspiration, image and info ~ Some of the Stars in this Cluster are Almost as Old as the Universe Itself While Others Formed in a Second Generation. It Looks Young and Old at the Same Time…
Its fingerprint of astral trace
singles out sidereal face
amongst the heavenly array
of stellar orbs in star ballet
that dance in metamorphous space.
The light dispersals limn with grace
celestial body in its place
for earthly mortals, to portray
its fingerprint.
Yet nature’s flux persists in pace,
as death takes all in vast embrace
despite what star one’s cast to play,
plus humankind will fade away
and time shall by and by erase
its fingerprint…
~ Harley White
* * * * * * * * *
The poem is a rondeau ~ a short poem of fixed form, consisting of 13 lines (plus the phrase twice) on two rhymes and having the opening words or phrase used in two places as an unrhymed refrain.
Inspiration for poem and image from article ~ “Hubble and a Stellar Fingerprint”…
Showcased at the center of this NASA/ESA Hubble Space Telescope image is an emission-line star known as IRAS 12196-6300.
Located just under 2,300 light-years from Earth, this star displays prominent emission lines, meaning that the star’s light, dispersed into a spectrum, shows up as a rainbow of colors marked with a characteristic pattern of dark and bright lines. The characteristics of these lines, when compared to the “fingerprints” left by particular atoms and molecules, can be used to reveal IRAS 12196-6300’s chemical composition.
If I only could see that which is beyond the pale of the limitation of
The complexity with which things espial are thus espied.
If the round pasty pastry-
Complete with its rind of crispy, golden-brown, flaky crust,
And the alabastrine creaminess contained both without and within-
Therein, or in here, or wherever is the place where all the modes
And analogues and apotheoses of figurative speech,
And the metaphors and similes and symbols true that they prove to be,
Are housed; within that tremulous sphere, wheeling frenetically in some
Gaseous void out there, beyond the pale of the furthest star,
Beyond the realms charted by stellar cartographies,
In that otherness that is also nothingness,
In the dread, dead void between sidereal bodies coruscating in
The caliginous eternal night of the blank emptiness of space;
In that dim spatiality, where all the metaphors that we use eventually go;
To that endless address whence no man and no thing ever returns,
From that dread and dun locus on which we have assayed to focus;
I say from that there is no repair, nor remove.
Once one is there, that is their address until time indefinite.
Still, if only I could glimpse that which lies beyond the limitations of
Our somehow magnificent, yet insignificant imaginations...
The planet Neptune for god of the sea
was titled from Roman mythology.
His wife Salacia three sons Neptune bore
with Triton most celebrated in lore
both Greek and Roman as merman, then famed
as the largest moon of Neptune so named.
While three decades back faint rings were spotted
though merely a few of those allotted,
by dint of the James Webb telescope view
recently captured along with bright blue
of Triton that’s spied in the upper left,
we gain clear look through its camera deft.
Neptune is the planet eighth from the Sun,
ice giant, with Triton the largest one
of satellites natural going round
about its dense mass although duty-bound
to cruise in an orbit that’s retrograde,
quite rare in the Solar System parade.
One hundred sixty-five years is the span
of tour in Neptune’s empyreal plan
for making rotation sidereal
in journey around star imperial
compared to earthly year passage of time
from new year to the old year’s midnight chime.
In visible light Neptune blue appears
as normally pictured in solar spheres
but cannot be glimpsed by unaided eyes
due to its distance related to size,
albeit Webb’s Cam in Near-Infrared
rendered it through its glass darkly instead.
What further marvels that planet may grace
‘midst myriad wonders in heavens’ space
awaiting disclosure for humans’ sight,
if e’er their reality’s brought to light,
remain to be seen provided Man can
prove to be more than a ‘flash in the pan’.
~ Harley White
Whatever happened to the twelve o ‘clock rambler,
nocturnal venturesome brushstroke sort,
they paint sound and city pastel,
never at a loss for inspiration,
weather neither bar nor barrier,
in the face of whirlwind snowfall,
freezing ice, torrential downpour,
within themselves, he, she, they plod on,
hardship is adopted, never cast aside,
while others brazenly squirm,
wallow in uproarious denial,
wilt before the slightest storm,
taking flight in arid comfort zone,
shelter is their first convenient port,
not for stoic diarist this threadbare exit,
exodus of the half-hearted humbug,
but ironclad ilk stubbornly remain,
eyes and ears are substitute antennas,
alert does not begin an ample portrait,
of this wilful dwindling genus,
genus, genie, genius, glow worm ghost,
peaceful prowlers with pen on queue,
they capture worlds sidereal,
under velvet moon imagining bespoke,
crescendo of cathartic bonhomie,
icy night frost punctured by high drive fog horns,
deft nib from dark ink manteau nomad,
who engross themselves in light and shade reflection,
how magical their canny weave lexicon,
for us timid souls to relish evermore,
as we balk at the eerie life we revel in,
vicarious the kismet, excitement from afar,
drama under bridges, shadow figure chinwag,
river stream babble, blind alley gust,
eavesdrop on historic past teaser,
litter swept aural gossip whoosh,
eventide mournful dog bark heart tug,
darting elfin’s sly mind peep thereon,
yet the vagabond minstrel has to comb,
each backstreet, zebra crossing, sprawling suburb,
for inert sleepy after hour dozers,
who crave eye candy fodder as humdrum sidestep
I reason out the drip-dried lakes in the modifying clime
When I flowed the dawning dew in the praising sky,
I promised to sojourn the supernal time
When I choired with the migrating birds in the autumn dry.
I look for the diurnal stars in the sidereal time
When I see the clear blue sky,
I opine the cosmo alike the paradise
When I breathe the aura in the autumn dry.
I reason out the falling leaves in the cone-bearing streets
When I zest under the insolated sky,
I smell the parterre alike the eden
When I aught to scent the rose in the autumn dry.
I look for the silver lining in the cotton clouds
When I fly to reach the hued sky,
I worded the ambiance alike the promised land
When I greeted the fetes in the autumn dry.
Favorite Carolyn Devonshire Poem
History Rising from the Sea
Treasure from the sea
Golden doubloon
Sixteenth century artifact
By ancestors hewn
Earth's history lays buried
Beneath five oceans
As undersea tremors
Create violent commotions
Freeing from Spanish galleons
Precious metals, gemstones,
To greet early beachcombers
History on loan
Memories of bygone ages
Scattered on the sand
Finally kissed by sun again
While in a searcher's hand
I pursue this morning trek
With Atlantis on my mind
Seeking proof at last
In treasures I might find
When ancient civilations
Seem to disappear
Comb the beach, you might find
The evidence is here
For from a phoenix rising
New finds appear each day
And I'll not stop searching
Till doubts I can allay
Caroline and I shared of love of water - she the ocean and I lakes and Puget Sound. Her poems flow like tides - effortlessly - with bits of wisdom scattered like treasures of seashells or driftwood found on the beach. This poem speaks of our mutual love of beachcombing for treasures and the pondering of history brought to mind by life's flotsam.
The poem below represents my tribute to Carolyn.
Girl on a Dolphin
Stargazing ocean pixie
Rides the playful weathered waves
To surf the ocean tides
With laughing dolphins
Leaps to catch Delphinus
Starfarer in a star bound chrysalis
To ride this five star celestial constellation
On heaven sent lapis astral waters
Wearing moonstones like Apollo’s poetry
Where starry Aquila flies to Lyra’s music.
Salt spattered waves only gaze
At a girl – eternal sea sprite –
That sits atop a stellar dolphin
And feels the shell torn loss
Of feet that danced through tidal pools,
Delight and awe surging through her signature,
As time bound day searches midnight legends
To align in twinkling sidereal day –
A quest for remnant memories in verses
Of a star born spirit – girl riding on a dolphin.
For Carolyn
8-19-21
Contest: Celebrating Carolyn's Poetry – Not a Contest
Sponsor: Andrea Dietrich
The constellation Delphinus is made up of five stars and can be seen between the constellations of Aquila, the Eagle, and Lyra, the Lyre. It is named for two Greek legends based on dolphins one of which tells of Apollo setting a dolphin in the sky in gratitude for saving the Greek poet Arion. Apollo is the god of music and poetry.
Infinity is what we sense
when musing on the vast immense
with universes yet to mold
in starry heavens still untold
awaiting gazers in suspense.
Astronomers of why and whence
search stelliferous pathways dense,
as dreamers dreamily behold
infinity.
The great sidereal events
in views the firmament presents
upon the cosmic canvas scrolled
shall neverendingly unfold
for poets of the future tense
infinity…
~ Harley White
Rock-a-bye starlets where the Swan flies.
Like earthly Sun, your day will arise.
Bright shall you reign, before your light dies.
So shine in your cradle high in the skies.
Cygnus OB2, the place you dwell
cozily clustered in cloudy shell,
houses a host of oldsters as well,
all with their own stellar story to tell.
With infrared and optic display
coronas viewed through Chandra X-ray
are shown in hues to image portray
five thousand light-years far, in Milky Way.
This source sidereal seems to be
nearer to earthlings relatively
than other founts astronomers see
amid the fruits of their deep scrutiny.
Ofttimes we weary of worlds below,
marvel at sights the heavens bestow,
long for domains beyond those we know,
then might our fancy fly to that tableau.
Rock-a-bye starlets, in cradle nigh.
Your vision splendid gladdens the eye
of dreamers lost who gaze at the sky
wonderingly, with a wish and a sigh…
~ Harley White
* * * * * * * * *
Inspiration for the poem was from article with video and image at Chandra site ~ “Cygnus OB2: Probing a Nearby Stellar Cradle”…
More info from article ~ “A Nearby Stellar Cradle” at NASA site…
Further influence in the crafting of the stanzas derived from ‘Rock-a-bye Baby’, which is a nursery rhyme and lullaby.
Also, Article with image from NASA ~ “A Nearby Stellar Cradle”…