Through lenses cold and ground from mountain glass,
We watched the dying worlds of iron pass.
For generations, every spark we found
Was tethered to a bleeding, broken ground—
The sudden flash of silo doors undone,
The brief, horrific birthing of a sun,
Then ash that drifted like a heavy shroud
To lock a planet in a toxic cloud.
We turned our mirrors to the northern sky,
Expecting just another world to die,
To see Vaeloria’s final signature
Be etched in fire, black and premature.
We braced for the familiar, sudden glare
Of empires burning down their final air.
But what we found across the cosmic deep
Was not the final, static-riddled sleep.
The planet did not burn; it started glowing,
A quiet, silver respiration growing,
As if a willow made of starlight grew
And drank the poison till the sky turned blue.
No high radiation tore the night,
But pulses of a deep, organic light.
A lonely mind had stitched the broken spheres,
And washed away a century of fears.
We leaned into our sights, amazed to see
A world redeemed by a single tree.
Just outside your awareness,
Lies a place lost to our embrace.
Many energies and entities play chase,
Right in front of our face.
While we brace for impact,
Attracted to the boundaries,
We smack into the walls.
As destiny calls,
We're getting stronger every fall.
Other dimensions watching it all,
Observing each motion,
Within this ocean of energy.
Higher entities watch over our species,
As we pick up the pieces,
Of our long lost history.
What if there were aliens making plans to invade and destroy planet earth? Perhaps they would rethink their strategy and observe what's coming to birth. Perhaps they would of necessity downsize their war budget and fighting armory. From miles away they would watch our world bath in massive disharmony.
From miles away they would watch our world bath in massive disharmony. Perhaps they would of necessity downsize their war budget and fighting armory. Perhaps they would rethink their strategy and observe what's coming to birth. What if there were aliens making plans to invade and destroy planet earth?
081120PSCtest, Mirror Mirror, John Lawless
A-nother
L-ovely
M-essage
I-s
R-elayed
A-s
L-ines
O-f
R-hyme
E-late
T-he
O-bservers
Topic: Birthday of Almira M. Loreto (February 25)
Form: Vertical Monocrostic
N-ews
A-bout
J-oyful
D-omain
I-n
N-ew
E-arth
C-reates
A-stounding
R-emark
L-etting
O-bservers
S-eek
Topic: Birthday of Najdine A. Carlos (February 02)
Form: Vertical Monocrostic
To be forever bent in a lack of better term
To lie still in darkness like a sad, blind worm
To eat your words as a form of grainy nourishment
To smell the dampness of your tempered encouragement
It is a blessing like no other
To be speechless but so full of color
And to feel the good digest to the mass
No matter how blind we have come to pass
There are beings that long to comfort us
As we lie still in the gloom of lush
There is a presence that may appear obscure
Blank faces that are captured in a blur
They are the observers and they are so still
They absorb what they can and eat what they will
There is nothing to fear for they are our benediction
Out in the sidelines trading gravity for friction
They are not angels I am told
They are not demons, dark and bold
They are quiet spirits that are attracting our minds
They choose many—all various kinds
It is inspiring to know that the following beings
Engorge on our souls—such nurturing feedings!
Eyes are opening in blissful imagination
As they cultivate the grounds with twangs of inspiration
The observers will watch us all until the conclusion
What they see is what we imagine—and the rest is an illusion
Some poets, who have faith, die of old age...
observing profound beauty:
give them that privilege!
Living as friars of the Middle Ages,
the observers write true words
on remarkable pages!
Sore confused would share with the world their treasures
Pain provides the means to express this sadness
I won't give my voice to a world of madness
I am not present
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.