Long Verne Poems
Long Verne Poems. Below are the most popular long Verne by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Verne poems by poem length and keyword.
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.
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.
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.
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
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.
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
#3: Tis Twilight Time
Goal hour is here ... the spirit joins the soul,
ephemeral or twilight ... or two worlds,
dreams; exchange facts for fiction ... a black hole,
furtherance, lying on a bed of pearls.
The Ancient Mariner, sailed all seven,
--but know that all of creation matters,
Jules Verne starts your voyage, you'll break even,
the journey will seem endless ... but crackers!
The choices lay at your feet, just explore,
"Around...," "Center...," "Under...," "Mysterious...,"
most productive voyager--go ashore.
This would be the trice of time, serious,
for the twinkling has arrived, tis Twilight,
Time, inspired, now expired, on-site, sit tight.
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.
the whispers were barely perceptible
there was scuffling and shuffling
were ghosts up here then?
I took a peek expecting to see people
there was a steampunk like robot facing the door
his eyes were made of hubcaps and he had coils for legs
who made this? And when? It was curious to me.
I halfway expected this robot to move.
there was a brocade tapestry hanging behind the robot.
dark in color, scarlet or deep forest green, impossible to say.
the threads could have been gold.
Wait, it might have been an old velvet crazy quilt.
The darkness of the room hampered me getting it right.
I saw a hobby horse, leaning against a two-seated couch.
One of those crazy ones where you faced each other.
Who lived in this place? I was thinking Jules Verne.
Or Poe. Or a Victorian miscreant. This is a strange place.
a creepy place. there was a stuffed raven in the corner.
With yellow glass eyes.
Definitely Poe.
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