Single cell organisms
scatter the gigantic globe
(Ten times the size of Earth, perhaps the size of Jupiter).
We, mere humans don’t exist there.
We couldn’t, gravity is too strong.
Only amoeba like creatures could live there, alien planktonkind.
We would be too heavy, even children.
They exist many many light years away from us,
next to a Red Giant star,
just a sparkle in our night sky.
We share a common history inside the Milky Way galaxy, neighbors really.
They have vast oceans and land masses, just like Earth.
And as a single person contains trillions of cells,
organized to make us who we are.
Their planet may be organized too.
At least, I think so,
as I peer through one of our most powerful of telescopes,
I see what looks to me a giant eye
looking back at me!
Parody: “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star”
Shine and glow you giant Star;
We are blessed for what you are!
Up above the world so high;
Large, round fireball in the sky!
Now our Sun- but once a Star-
We are blessed for what you are.
When the silver Moon is gone;
Fades its glow- can't shine upon
your new dawn comes to relight-
spreads your rays until the night.
Now our Sun, but once a Star-
We are blessed for what you are.
In the light blue sky, you keep,
And through bedroom curtains peep;
For you never shut your eye
Till your sunset fills the sky.
Now our Sun, but once a Star-
We are blessed for what you are.
As your bright and brilliant spark
Lights our Earth until its dark-
We know well the gift you are!
Shine and glow, you giant Star;
Now our Sun, but once a Star-
We are blessed for what you are.
Of starry stuff our lives were made
when supernova cloud cascade
in stellar burst of gases shed
with elements from which we’re bred
evolved to human escapade;
yet nature’s laws must be obeyed
so all that flourishes shall fade
for never-ending cosmic thread
of starry stuff;
mid vast celestial serenade
as music of the spheres portrayed
with majesty the stars o’erspread
create the living from the dead
in metamorphic masquerade
of starry stuff.
~ Harley White
* * * * * * * *
“Our Sun is a second– or third-generation star. All of the rocky and metallic material we stand on, the iron in our blood, the calcium in our teeth, the carbon in our genes were produced billions of years ago in the interior of a red giant star. We are made of star-stuff.”
~ Carl Sagan, “The Cosmic Connection: An Extraterrestrial Perspective”, 1973
She is her own moonbeam shining bright;
a beacon in the sky, penetrating light.
In evenings centrifugal dance,
heavenly body does entrance.
Giant star shine lamp
of mega-trillion amps.
In the hustle of celestial bustle;
she flexes her gaseous muscles.
whirling, spinning, never dimming,
she moves along like Peggy Fleming.
A holiday on ice, in space,
puts a smile upon her face.
I gaze upon this gracious sphere,
gentility that brings forth a tear;
for she’s our planet, our homeland
and we must do whatever we can.
We must be on the alert,
Gaia’s demise to avert.
3-10-2020
Picture prompt Poetry Contest
Brenda Chiri
Have you studied your palm?
Does yours have a star?
It is the sign of a seer, a mystic, a prophetess.
Here is your head line, your heart line, your life line.
See how they are deeply cut?
You feel things deeply.
This is the sign of a well-lived life.
Good for you, apparently you are
Listening to your spiritual guides.
Compare both of your palms.
The closer they resemble each other
The closer you are to reaching your life goals
Figured out in heaven before you arrived.
Some of you will have a vertical line
That cuts your palm in two.
That is the fate line. I do not have one.
But I do have a giant star.
No one witnessed the tiny
speck of dawn, born
in very moment that
a giant star had died
and sent this bit of
iron hurtling through the
velvet deep of space,
wandering there in solitary
wonder for over
ten thousand million years.
But then one day,
it found itself on perfect course,
toward a little yellow sun,
its light piercing and intense.
But a tiny blue white dot
got in its way, and in the air
of that new world,
it vaporized and then departed,
shouting with a dazzling streak,
its journey now complete.
“It’s called a shooting star,”
the father told his kids.
“Or some know them best as
meteors. I’m sure that
if you stay outside, you’ll see
another just as nice since there’s
a shower of them tonight.”
“Naw, we’re playing
video games downstairs,
and anyway, I’m winning.”
One day, all living things might fill
The ocean of the past
And every ship, against our will,
Could bear a broken mast.
That day, when no one’s left to know
Of Satan and of God,
Our giant star shall burst and sow
A diadem of blood.
The relics of our ancient world
Shall sleep in ageless ice,
Or else burn bright as they are hurled
To seal our sacrifice.
Find my poems and published poetry volumes at www.eton-langford.com
Well and there is a LOST SEA
Somewhere running through
The crystal caverns down and
Around the foot hills of the
Appalachian Mountains...
I remember some kind of strange
Indian folklore from many lifetimes
Lived before, you look into my eyes
By firelight and you can clearly
See all the tribal signs of mine and
I got this sense of de ja vu all over
Again as voices come whispering to
Me in the wild night wind...
Well I can feel the a strong vibration
Of an ancient and powerful magic
Sense the beginning of creation, in
The shadow of the moon's shadow
As you begin to chant and I enter into
A trance, seeing the faces of the ancestors
And the elders, as the sacred smoke
Rises high up in the midnight sky and
Talking to me as if they were alive...
Well it's the ceremony of Sequoya
And my re-initiation into the secret
Indian nation as raven's circle my head
In a giant star like formation...
Somewhere down and around the
The hallowed grounds of a crystal cavern
Somewhere under the foothills of
The Appalachian Mountains...
Well I am led down now to the LOST SEA
And reborn an honorary wet winged
Cherokee!
Something about fire makes my soul sing
Not from the flames of burning homes and buildings
But from smaller ones we joyfully ignite and bring
A sense of warmth and wonder to our being.
Nothing beats sitting around the crackling sounds
Of a camp fire in the woods;
With whispering wind passing through
The trees, leaving us introspectively thinking
Life is good and all is as it should.
And the smell of smoke snaking
It’s way from earth to sky;
The aroma of burning from a solid state
To ash before my eyes.
And flames stretching higher like a funeral pyre, as if
Reaching for the unimaginable beyond
The next paradigm shift and ultimate gift.
While waiting for the flames to pass
From growth to decay stage like some
Red Giant Star nearing the end of its journey
From near to far, I can’t help thinking how
Much we have in common with dust
Made in space and fire in this race
From burning heat to eternal, deadly cold.
It’s a wonder of wonders that gives
All these thoughts of mine-d a place to shine
As I watch the fire burn and yearn of growing
Young again and old.
“The fate of individual human beings may not now be connected in a deep way with the rest
of the universe, but the matter out of which each of us is made is intimately tied to the
processes that occurred immense intervals of time and enormous distances in space away
from us. Our Sun is a second- or third-generation star. All of the rocky and metallic
materials we stand on, the iron in our blood, the calcium in our teeth, and the carbon in
our genes were produced billions of years ago in the interiors of a red giant star. We are
made of star-stuff.”
I am a scion of the Milky Way
Wholly unique to the highest degree.
My soul is as old as light-years away
My provenance stems from cosmic debris.
I need not religion to guide my life
My quintessence antedates mankind’s creeds.
The brief time walking beneath starlit nights
Imbue my soul more than mankind’s prayer beads.
Every thought, all that I am is akin
To these heavenly designers birthplace
The very essence, my soul within
Began eons in interstellar space.
Knowing who I am and where I came from
Is a greater joy than what I’ve become.
Continuum
Continuum
تسلسل
We can call the thing the continuum
Although eye am not certain just what this means
The LORD is well at hand the one who made all things
Giant star: late stage in the life of comparatively low-mass main sequence star in
which hydrogen in the core is deleted, the core contracts and temperatures
inside the star increase, causing its outer layers to expand and cool
This is the continuum
The star system nebula one one one is where eye was from
The encrypted code will enable my craft to explode
Or to open door.
The decision of the thief to break upon my countenance
The extra work that eye have gathered is now enjoyed by others not of my own
kind the stupid humans have stolen what they want and eye uncovered the
impediments of time.
Eye hope they trigger the mechanism when they reach into that place again the
trigger is next to the >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>wait someone is coming wait
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.