Long Satellites Poems
Long Satellites Poems. Below are the most popular long Satellites by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Satellites poems by poem length and keyword.
An old man walks along a deserted beach in the pre-dawn darkness.
The is no wind and he can hear small waves lap onto the sand.
He stops, turns eastward, and gazes out into the blackness.
At the same time, 93,000,000 miles away, trillions of photons of light are born in a fiery sun, and are propelled through the void of space at an unimaginable speed of 186,000 miles per second. They race past planets, moons, asteroids, man-made satellites and space debris to rendezvous with the earth and the waiting old man who stands there waiting in anticipation, and sees nothing but blackness punctuated with dimly lit, fading stars.
Then, as the earth slowly turns he perceives a faint brightness creeping over the edge of night, revealing itself where the sea meeting the sky.
With time, the sky gradually transforms from black to a faint dull gray.
As more photons pour in, the dull grey turns to a dim orange, and then orange and finally yellow.
The color grows in brightness and intensity as more and more of the becomes visible.
The process is irreversible. The darkness is in inevitable retreat, and a vibrant world of color comes alive.
As he has done many times before, the old man stares at the wonder unfolding before him. The brightness and the colors awake his senses and stir his consciousness.
He closes his eyes and allows the glow to bombard his face and body.
He feels its gentle warmth and its promise of a new beginning.
He mutters a quiet prayer, and thanks God for the gift of a new start and...
another chance to get it right.
To sit with my family in my bedroom,
when something from the outside went boom.
We looked out the window, and to our dismay,
a fireball of smoke was headed our way.
The time was elapsing so fast; we were running
Into the bunker, where we'd be safe for a moment.
The bunker door closed in the nick of time;
we heard that the boom was a nuclear bomb of some kind.
We panicked at first, but we knew we were safe.
We'd been preparing for this moment every day.
The bunker was large; it had all types of riches.
The best part about it was the fully stocked kitchen.
It had all types of food that your heart could desire,
including the meals that everyone admired.
We settled down in the bunker, our hearts still pounding.
We heard on the radio that the satellites were grounding.
With all the commotion, it was beginning to be too late.
We were going to war with the other countries we hate.
A scary situation—I didn't know what to think.
This imperfect world was beginning to shrink.
A troubling thought suddenly ran through my head:
Could this be because of the oil, water, and lead?
No more thinking, because nothing seemed clever.
No one could assume—but never say never.
We settled on down; we'd been there for weeks.
We were hoping and praying that one day we'd be free.
Wishful thinking was all I could say,
but I knew one thing: where there's a will, there's a way.
No more excuses; it was too late to save the world.
I cried for hours for all the people on Earth.
We sat close together and looked at each other,
a loving communion of hugs to reassure one another.
Dancing trees and lily pads
and shadows on the ridge
Chocolate streams and waterfalls
flow far beneath the bridge
Neon lights in cursive form
with words to pull apart
Falling into to silent whims
will break a longing heart
Fingers trace a photograph
which once belonged inside
Rocket ships and satellites
there’s no place left to hide
Broken cups of China glass
in sinks around the world
Corners call in sorrowed weeps
as sadness is unfurled
Just outside the sun is bright
with blue skies far and near
Out beyond the curtains
is a scene so very clear
Follow down the winding path
till you can see your way
Let them know your smile glows
in magical display
Count the leaves of clover
as you stroll a sea of green
Four will be the number
that will bring about your dream
Nothing ever works the way
we think it often should
It seems there is an ounce of pain
to couple with the good
You’re sure to see the meaning
if you open up your eyes
And let the joy wash over you
when soon you realize
That friendship is a kind of gift
no holiday required
It hangs around the strangest place
in all that is desired
A hand will stretch the miles long
for just a small caress
And worry when you’re feeling low
If this I must confess
But if you find it genuine
while you are far from home
Your heart will feel the solitude
yet you are not alone
Beware the lion that walks in silence.
He roars not in markets, nor chants in parades—
He sharpens his claws beneath the rubble,
And his vengeance waits in plain sight.
O Israel,
Do not live in yesterday's trumpet.
David slew Goliath, yes—
But not every stone shall fly again.
The soil of Persia is ancient and proud,
It has buried empires and baptized invaders.
The men of Iran—
they do not die as men die.
They burn with history in their blood,
And rise like dust after every bombing.
The West,
in its arrogance, plays with fire
thinking fire belongs to it.
But fire answers no flag,
nor kneels to democracies built on oil.
You boast of steel and sanction,
of drones and doctrines—
But the lion builds in silence,
and his weapons do not glitter.
They hum in caves,
and hide behind clouds of denial.
America,
You speak too loudly.
And those who speak most
often hold the least.
Power is not in sound,
but in restraint.
And greatness is not shown
in how you strike,
but in who dares strike you back.
The lions of Asia
do not fear death—
They have dined with it
for centuries.
Your satellites cannot see spirit.
Your bombs cannot crush pride.
And if you keep pushing,
what sleeps may awaken
not as a nation—
but as a storm.
A great catastrophe
is not forged in one day—
but in the arrogance of years.
So listen to silence,
for silence is not peace—
it is planning.
We stay up late to watch the Perseid meteor shower,
late for us now being after 9.
We end up moving our individual lawn chairs to separate parts
of the front lawn,
apparently more interested in our individual views of the heavens
than our proximity as a couple.
We see no meteors
as we watch the stars begin to appear,
but three satellites pass overhead
in less than a minute,
and this makes me feel some wonder
at what humanity has accomplished.
You then go inside
as I start to doze
and return with word that the internet astronomers
have pronounced 4am as the prime viewing time.
So off we go to bed and sleep.
At 4 I wake,
bundle up in an old bathrobe,
and head out into the star covered yard.
Eventually you follow
and we watch as several meteors shower past in as many minutes.
Content that we have seen it,
although definitely less impressed than we remember,
we head back to bed
and sleep.
(for Carol - 8/13/23)
INVENTIONS
ARE THE MATERIALIZATION
OF THE IMAGINATION.
IMAGINE...
IF YOU WILL...
A SMARTPHONE
THE SIZE
OF A GRAIN OF RICE.
IMPLANTED
IN YOUR HEAD.
WITH ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE
AND CONNECTIONS
TO SUPER COMPUTER
SATELLITES
ORBITING THE EARTH.
ANSWERING QUESTIONS
FASTER
THAN THE SPEED OF LIGHT.
GRAPHENE LENSES
COVERING YOUR EYEBALLS
PROJECTING IMAGES
FOR VISUAL ASSISTANCE
AND FOR THE VISUALLY IMPAIRED.
IMAGINE FREQUENCIES
REVERBERATING
BACK AND FORTH
BETWEEN YOU
AND THE UNIVERSE.
CREATING VISUALS
OF GALAXIES
2.5 MILLION
LIGHT YEARS REMOVED.
IMAGINE...
TRAVELING
TO THE EDGE OF QUASARS.
ADVENTURING
INTO AND THROUGH
BLACK AND WHITE HOLES
WITH OUT FEAR.
EXPLORE DARK MATTER.
EXPERIENCE
THE FRAGRANCE AND TASTE
OF COSMIC DUST.
COMMUNICATE
WITH A DEGENERATE DWARF.
VISIT AND MINGLE
WITH A BROWN DWARF.
UNDERSTAND
HOW AND WHY
THEY ARE CONSIDERED
THE UNDERACHIEVERS
OF THE UNIVERSE.
FEEL THE ENERGY OF
THE UNIVERSE.
EXPLORE THE THEORY
OF MAGNETIC STRUCTURE
OF MATTER.
COMPREHEND AND UNDERSTAND
THE HELICAL SOLAR SYSTEM.
COMPLEMENTS OF YOUR
FUTURE SMARTPHONE.
Michael E. Harris
08162021
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Born in era of
rotary phones and
Western Union telegrams,
my fingers now dance
on glass—no dial tone~
a frequent user of Facetime.
I carry the memory
and weight
of paper maps,
while satellites whisper
turn left, turn back.
My hands remember card catalogs,
my breath still holds
the scent of old book glue,
but my eyes keep adjusting
to the glare of forever screens.
My fingers recollect
the shudder of a manual typewriter
as it punched its teeth
into the blank white throat of tomorrow.
I recall when cloud meant rain,
when stream was a small river with fish.
Now my hands ache from phantom keyboards,
my dreams buffer between decades.
I am a bridge, a relic, a traveler,
carrying the 20th century
like loose change in my pocket,
spending it carefully
in this bright,
impatient 21st century.
We roll beneath the cypress shade,
With radar humming through the glade—
A silent beam, it marks your speed,
Before you even see the deed.
The dash cam blinks, an unblinking eye,
Recording truth you can’t deny.
The body cam hums a steady tune,
Every whisper caught by noon.
A license plate reader scans the air,
Numbers flash—a silent snare.
If you’re wanted, or your tag expired,
It chirps—a hunter newly wired.
Computer mounts glow in the night,
Dispatch sending left and right.
GPS maps where each soul roams,
Drawing paths back to their homes.
Thermal sight through swampy dark,
Can spot a heartbeat—leave its mark.
The mic in my collar hears your plea,
And streams it straight to the deputy.
Don’t think the backseat’s just for rest—
It’s steel and shield, a lawful nest.
Your rights are read, your hands confined,
While satellites keep you in line.
So when you see that bar of blue,
Know tech and training ride there too.
We don’t just follow—we foresee,
By lens, by code, by law, by key.
Midnight and,
far from my town's bright lights
in darkness of sky, I find solace
in darkness of sky, I seek freedom
I looked at the glittery trail of stars
the satellites moving as if stars are racing
the pleiades looking like a small ursa major
I lay my head on the grass
before fog comes to obscure my view
before it's grayness takes all over me
I look at the stars, spot constellations
Wishing if I could fly through them
wishing if I could go and visit a planet
wishing if a planet that can carry the weight,
the weight of my emotions
the weight that pulls me down on the ground
there's a freedom in the night sky
meant for dreamers, meant for believers
I want to dream, I want to believe
that I will be fine
midnights, and I run away from the town
to seek freedom in the starry night.
Written: November 21, 2023
_________________________________________
Amid the shooting stars, there is a lot of zeal
While satellites start spinning in various ordeals
Even blinking lights on the aircraft while in flight
Boost the vibe and thrill stargazers with delight.
Over the day, the sun swings from east to west
The stars in the sky seem to be taking a rest
But at dusk, when the earth appears to sleep
I eagerly await the night to uncover its awe-deep.
Their light cuts so deeply into the abyss.
Lifting our tired minds out of a deep remiss
They whisper wisdom that only sages can hear
Leading us on an adventure without fear.
Winds whispering, a breath, a soft kiss
Grasping leaves in serene nature bliss
Each zephyr conveys secrets across the air
Unbearable layers of love are beyond compare.
Stars dance unfettered amid the vastness
Often pondering sitting with skeptic madness
Is that a star or a satellite? Am I seeing beauty?
It's feasible for love, as a torn face, to seem sooty.