Best Verne Poems
The city of Prague
In a different world
Its centre ripped
The whole world heard
Its now separated by
Canyons so deep
The day it happened
To hear a country weep
Beautiful buildings
Fell away
Architectural delights
Toppled on sway
But the city recovered
No bridges to be seen
Ingenious in genius
Sky Gondola's reign
To cross this great city
From north to south
Over the gaping rift
Above the canyons mouth
Gondola shaped
Zeppelin for lift
Tiller propeller
Propulsion shift
Sky taxis
In ariel flow
With their lanterns lit
Like glowworms glow
This sight i view
With my pal Jules Verne
Inspires his writes
As generations will learn
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/fantasy4.php
So I’m building a spaceship,
But where should I start?
When the spaceship I’m building
Is made out of art
Books for the seats
And paintings for the walls
Cause this type of spaceship
Goes nowhere at all
I do not want it to
Why should it go?
To travel to space,
Where I do not know?
When in my own room
There’s mystery and tale
In pages of books
In pictures on nails
I will set up two chairs
Connect them by sheets
Webster can help me
With good wordy seats
I will need a good staff
I will need a good crew
To narrate our path
To guide us all through
Virgil can help
He’s a good guide
He knows the maps
Of the spiritual side
And there’s only one doctor
I could put to good use
The greatest of time
The old Dr. Seuss
A friend of Ernest
Our pilot to be
An old timey sailor
A man from the sea
A hatch I will make
Of a copied Van Gogh
The stars through the door
Oh how they will glow
Our ship will be waterproof
So that’s no concern
But in case there’s a problem
I will bring Jules Verne
A clock I have seen
That hung in the hall
Created by Dali
Will make up a wall
I believe that is it
That’s all I will need
I’ve got my good paintings
I’m ready to read
Oh no but wait
I almost forgot
Shakespeare, get in
We’re about to take off!
And away we go
On a journey tonight
To return tomorrow
At mornings light
'Our Mother'
Our Mother - a sophisticated lady
Always destined for the top
You'd never see her walk on by
A top designer shop
So impeccably presented;
Amazing handbag, clothes and shoe
Even perfume richly scented
Numbered bottle gives the clue
Never more elegant a lady
Than the stylish Mrs Mannell
Surely can't be just co-incidence
That her name rhymes with Chanel?
For pleasure; Mum rode her horses
Liked playing hard and drinking gin
Slip in friends and glass of champers
And her heart you'd surely win
Of her job she could wax lyrical
And of work being her miracle
A workaholic one might say
Toiled every cent of hard earned pay
Mum frequented finest restaurants
If dined with Margaret you would discern
Whether lunching at the Ivy
Or in Paris, of course; Jules Verne
Mum once painted chairs and pottery
And boiled up fudge to taste
She made luscious chocolate mousse those days
And yoga trimmed her waist
Mum sketched and drew with creative flare
Gave her loving cats amazing care
She sung out loud never just a hum
Then taught me to be a Mum
We all knew different parts of Mum
But between us we all know
Her strength could be a barrier
"Dahhling, don't let feelings show"
No matter what we all admire in her
With love and pride we glow
At the sea of people facing her
Must not let tear drops flow
A formidable woman Margaret
Or as Peggi to many friends
Just 'Mum' to my sister and I
And where this poem almost ends
She was Grandma Peg to four granddaughters
And now a great grand-son
Who knew she stayed and fought
To become a great grand mum
So to the 'bar', let's go raise glasses
For this tough old bird please grin
She'd hate to see sad faces
No tears while drinking gin
'Our mother'
For Margaret Mannell's funeral
By Victoria Payne
We're on a journey of exploration, a long-deferred vacation
There's room for you too … Come with us, and your essence renew
We've been so busy surviving, striving, never quite thriving
It's time to live life large, hire a sea-worthy vessel, a sturdy barge
First it's off to Africa, to distant shores, hottest jungles and desert sands
There to unearth unknown civilizations, man's oldest bones, in buried lands
Then we set sail for the Isle of Atlantis, with the help of a 'sea sherpa(nt),' who in Atlantis will plant us
We're sure to find this isle 20,000 leagues under the sea, with the help of
Jules Verne and Walt Disney
After that we'll blast off into Space, bidding adieu to terra firma's rat race
We'll rocket past Saturn, Neptune, Uranus---and learn how our galaxy works
to sustain us...
When we return, we'll have stories to tell, a feature-length movie, a best-seller as well
About our journey of exploration
and how we managed it all
~ from the comfort of a virtual play-station
Entry in "Dealer's Choice Poetry Contest" (Going My Way)
Sponsor: Caren Krutsinger
118
118
CharlaXFabels
AprilFooley
Is tomorrow the end of March or the beginning of April April one or March 32 the
way to approach the online scenario is to make it seem to be true. Associated
Press AP: The Government in a brief memo enacted a new presidential law
bringing the March 32 a new day into the light of day. The President of the United
States declared leap year over null and voided. Here is the words of the transcript
from the Whitehouse: This is President Bush talking "Eye am certain all we ever
had to do was add a day on the end of a month when we need to in the year they
used to all call leap year year. March now has the end of the month the April
starts after the March 32 has come." End of quotation. The Democrats in Georgia
have declared WAR upon the United States "we believe it to be wrong to take
away leap year is bad enough but to add a day to MARCH is madness." The
press corp at the Whitehouse is for once speechless. The day of the end of
March will be celebrated all over the nation with the observnace of the Marching
Bands of America. Send money via PayPal to Box 666 Mountain Verne
Washingtonia, D.C. For the hearing impaired we have prepared a phonetic
version of this message. March 32. Mahrrch Thirtee Twuu. In DRY counties of
Arkansas this day will fall on April 1, 2008. The subdivisions housing in the
Indian Reservations in Oklahoma will be left out. No one in Central Asia may
observe it. Lets go LIVE to the White house to ask a question of Mrs. Bush. What
will you do Barbara? The First Lady is unavaliable for comment. This is highly
unusual. We remain speechless. The new day falls on a Tuesday this year and
April 1, 2008 is on this Wednesday. All of you are April fools.
To Jules Verne
A man feeling drowse at the top of the mountain, fell asleep.
He dreamed dreams
emanating from floods of seas.
In remote droughts,
he gave his fruit of smoke
on a simple altar.
Curd quartz opened
solidifying thousands of stamens,
they glowed
like the warm reflection of the stars on the sand,
the man kept close watch of the r.e.m. hour.
life is the strife of one baptized
in the depths of all his memories,
yet he forgets before awakening.
Founding himself face to face
with another man holding a frozen fish
and a bucket,
they begun the climb down,
What do you fish when you fish,
he asked,
for a bolt of fire, said the man
as he released the fish into the ground
and rubbed his hands,
cryogenics?
no, fisherman.
I was asked, "What is important to you?" by a friend-
she was just making conversation...
I was silent, deep in thought of diversity-
The true meaning of important.
Other than the worldly treasures of love,
money to survive, intelligence and adventure-
WORDS- was my answer.
Words. Power. Intelligence. Knowledge.
Adventure. Love. Death. Birth. God. Evil.
Conception. Contemplation. Life. Living.
Ovid, Homer, Ducasse, Rimbaud,
Patterson, Rice, Strieber, Jung, Darwin,
Verne, Grisham, Seneca, Christ...
As I read the words from the greatest,
and not so greatest, of minds-
It is all encompassing. I am in their world.
Writers bring their world to life when simple
words are written.
I can go to Atlantis, dissect a human, kill mummies,
be a vampire, see into the mind of a beagle, fly with eagles,
see the center of the Earth, view a rose in a way alien to me.
I can do anything. I have yet to do everything.
WORDS- little configurations with infinite
meaning.
For many an historical generation,
you scintillated man’s imagination.
The subject of numerous films and books,
your presence was worth some astronomers’ looks.
From writers such as H.G. Wells and Jules Verne,
the fire of man’s curiosity would burn.
With mankind’s ingenuity and labor,
could we travel to this planetary neighbor?
If we arrived there, what would we find?
Are there living creatures similar to earth’s kind?
With man’s advancing technology,
space probes to the planet became reality.
However, what we discovered was not as expected.
Hardly any form of life was detected.
With cold desert-like terrain and desiccated atmosphere,
no life as we know it could live here.
No canals as previously conjectured would exist.
As a planet with life, you are crossed off our list.
A Side of Fries
Verne had never had the nerve before.
He stood before her, looked into her eyes
asking “you gonna eat all of those fries?”
Hunger’s hands holding hollow hope.
12/20/2015
submitted to - 4 lines – Poetry contest
sponsor – Silent One
You have the hysterical look of mutes
that roar through narrow straws.
I see in your yellow eyes – a Jules Verne winking moon.
Soon that ribbed pink cave will release
another flock of demented coots
hacked from the craw of an ancient macaw.
Soon the whip of your vocal squawks
will pluck my eyes from their trembling stalks.
Maine Coon, part Persian, part whiskery herring,
grimalkin mouser,
I love you not when you sing.
Verne goes to the movies, a flickering French theater
of painted malarkey, where mice threaten to Can-Can.
Buck Rodgers shoots rays of hyperbolic sound
from the open nozzle of your mouth.
There is nothing at all that appears on the norm.
Our surroundings are strange after the wake of the storm.
The ship was ripped apart like tin foil.
On this surface, we are slipping as if covered with oil.
We pause on the edge of a deep abyss.
Draped and muffled in a mist, everything is amiss.
Normally heavy objects are light and easy to throw.
This big heavy stone feels almost like a pillow.
Where do we dwell right now, I really don’t know.
We are not on the earth. That is a fact we can’t deny.
The stars are in different configurations in the sky.
Things look so strange to say the least.
Even the sun appears to be setting in the east.
The comet must have hit the earth, and we are on it right now.
Thank God we have survived this disaster somehow.
draped/ slipping/ pause/ edge/ muffled/ foil/ wake/ deny/ dwell/ pillow
Based on the science fiction novel "Off On a Comet" by the late Jules Verne
Dragonflies impossibly maneuver,
defying aerodynamics.
Obviously, there is something wrong with our
calculations,
even bumble bees behave like U.F.O’s.
Da Vinci, sketched flying machines
everything is feasible on paper
and we know paper planes can also fly.
A child can imagine a flying peddle bike,
because they can easily ignore
the settled science of gravity.
Peddle power is a real thing.
Children leave room for the impossible,
the way the Wright Brothers did.
Rockets were invented by the unimaginative,
Jules Verne and comic books misled them.
Space travels not about moving through space
as if it were actually a distance.
When we ask what it is - that nothingness
in which objects hang within or fly through,
then we will be close to inventing fire once more.
The sloth and the snail are not moving slow,
the flitting dragonfly, as it sharply veers
and turns in an iota of sky is not moving fast.
They are all equally synchronized,
they just do not consider time as a hurdle
but more of a tunnel.
I can still recall
the taste of that first youthful kiss,
it has not slipped away into a nether place,
it returns when I call to it, that kiss
and many more exclamation marks.
A hummingbirds bewildering feats of aviation,
though explicable, is no less magical,
it should remind us of the origami nature of time,
how it folds to accommodate any space
even a long ago kiss.
Hello Santa, Nice to meet you this year
I've been very good, come rain or shine
I know what your thinking, you have your fears
But I don't want anything big this time
I just want some books (ten would do)
Maybe some Tolkien, or Verne perhaps?
Some Sanderson would be good to
And a book on how to take a nap
(Insomnia Is very rough)
I also want a lock pick set
One that's strong, and very tough
And this time around I do not want a pet
Now, I know what your saying, You haven't been good
Coal's in your future, you can knock on wood
Well, I know I mocked that presenter
But he was as bad as Lincoln was good
And I know I became my family's dissenter
But truth be told they needed one
They always were a sheepish bunch
They always had the same kind of fun
Then I went and ruined their lunch
And that time where I drunk my sister's drink
She had no label on it!
She knows it was that or the sink
It's her that needs to take a sit
Now, I know your naughty list has my name reserved
three years running, I've been bored
But this year Santa, Let me tell you
To invest in me, though undeserved
You see I wrote a letter or two
To some high-ranking fellows at the Station
This Fellow named Tom and One named Tim
Is letting me do a presentation
If I a piece of coal (Or five, or ten)
I'll say You did me a great disservice
I'll talk about you all day
And you'll be right to be nervous
I'm sure you know what I will say
So dear Santa, I expect to get my presents
Or else I'll do some newsy segments
Excited steampunk creators
Designing in dastardly studios and attics
Working with fascinating gears and copper levers
A whole new world envisioned in a collective remembrance
Jules Verne watches from his heavenly seat and smiles
Admiring his octopus box from 1869.
Who was first to write of cultures we read,
With their trans-galactic real estate greed?
The Greeks were dreamers of heaven above
Where the gods and their men fought wars for love.
The Asian myths were clever old stories:
Supernatural ancestral glories.
The Mayan drawings fulfill that desire
To dream of ships and men propelled by fire.
The Saxons gave us warriors and more
By wrath and raw maternal spiteful gore.
Hawthorne and Rappaccini’s human bud
Pollinated Shelley’s electric stud,
But Wells was first to say it straight and plain:
Perhaps to think we are alone is vain.
Before that Verne took us down in a ship,
And later Huxley’s World loosed brother’s grip.
Now Ray Bradbury’s chronicles of Mars
And Philip K’s Mars with cars and geek bars,
Are “you must read” or “you just gotta see,”
Like 2001: A Space Odessey.
Asimov built up a firm Foundation
For Herbert’s arid alien nation.
Cult fans know Vance, Wilhelm and Bova, Too,
But of Gloss or McElroy they ask “Who?”
Not all writers have what Card has to show:
Hugo-Nebula two years in a row!
Seasoned are LeGuin and Michael Critchton;
Deux maîtres dans le genre they write in.