Short Lightyears Poems

Short Lightyears Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Lightyears by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Lightyears by length and keyword.


Premium Member Here and Not

lightyears away
you're the silence of the midnight air
piano notes still linger in my ear



Published in my 24-page photo/anthology book ~LOVE BITS AND BITES~ 2023

AP: 3rd place 2022


Premium Member Just out of reach

i listen to your voice
but you're not here
and may as well be
lightyears out in space

tonight the moon
feels much more present
as its allure sways me
to a most bewitching beat



AP: Honorable Mention 2025

Timeless Clock

Few mortals, in this hurried time 
    and age,
take time to listen to the timeless 
    ticking
of the Clock that runs the whole 
    universe
and measures time in aeons 
    and lightyears.


Fewer still are those who clock 
    the speed
of swift neutrons in billionths 
    of a second
just to pick the fruit of supreme 
    human will
from the tree of knowledge of good 
    and evil!

Space

Spinning
azure and verdant globe
comforted by
rising sun
from
elipse of life

Moments
drift by as lightyears fly
stars are born
they die
while
super novas explode expatentally
into the blackness of space

Wondrous happenings
in that almost just helium vacuum
one could float for miles
unteathered by gravity
your knowledge
of celestial bodies
would shift your perspective
and place a whole new value
on life

No-See-Um Sway

Lulled by the no–see-um’s song
the grasses and I are yawning
tilting our heads 
in the breezes falling off the day
as if cocooned in imagined protection beneath 
a raccoon mama’s chin
we sway…we sway…we sway the night to day …away

and above us the grasshopper's song floats 
in swaths across the lavender universe (13.8 billion lightyears to bring to you)
a light house sways across the gray
trying to say...

















I love you


Therapy

In half. 
I left therapy with chewed up gum in my mouth, tastes like my own brain goop.
I took my luggage which was really the “not sorry,” in that room. 
Jump started. 
Brushing my teeth with that therapy gunk. 
It tastes like the crust of what a bug spit out. 
Those busted up words and tears. 
In half. 
And both halves are as alive as the inside of a planet lightyears away. 
I left therapy and my jaw started tasting good as carrion-gum. 
I left therapy. 
With an alive secret.

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