Spacemen Poems | Examples

Space Poets

Of those who have gone to the moon;
do come back soon.

Of those astronauts 
that just watched
other’s fool around in the dust;
a most worthy career I trust. 

We are all spacemen and women,
though women generally prefer
space walking to swimming.

Those that do not care too much 
for dust;
in God they trust.

Some spacemen
turn dust into light.
They are quite a sight, up all night
shoveling 
and digging to make wrong things 
just right.

Life's Mysteries

Life on Earth is riddled with mysteries,
Including massive monuments of stone;
Fashioned before recorded histories.
Evidently, early Man wasn't alone,
Some stones can not be moved, even today.

Many maintain that aliens came here
Years ago, to visit; but they didn't stay.
Scientists suggest evidence is clear;
Technologies unknown today were used.
Early Man's mega-sites fill us with awe,
Requiring us to admit, we're confused.
In Man's ancient past, He sketched what He saw;
Etchings of strange star beings He called Gods,
Some resemble spacemen; what are the odds?

If You Want To Meet Aliens

Aliens and spacemen must exist because I see them all the time
They are in the trees, the flowers, and they are not mere slime.
They parade around my yard, about two feet off the ground.
They are now wearing space ships, and they consume rancid lard.

They tell me stories in my dreams, and they delight me in a way.
They sleep under the bed, on the rug that’s red, blue and gray.
Aliens and spacemen, working on their space craft in the eve.
They keep asking me for help but I am snoring with a heave.

They do not have three eyes or bubble heads, and they are not green.
They are about as real as you and me, but less unkind, and never mean.
Empathetic and lovely aliens and spacemen come out after twilight.
If you want to meet six of them, come by my house at nine o’clock tonight.

Space Poets

Of those who have gone to the moon,
I can name maybe six, 
including those
that stayed behind in the capsule. 

I was thinking about the astronauts 
that just watched,
monitoring the rest of the crew below,
those fooling around on the moon-dust. 
Perhaps the capsule guys were the ones
that had the larger view,
perhaps they beheld 
the greater poetry of it?

I suspect there are constellations
of astronaut poets,
ones that orbit, record,
and note the star-travelling scribblings 
of all earthly watchers.

They also are spacemen and women,
ones that do not care too much 
for dust.

Sunset--

Sunset

Deep into that darkness sun setting
the termination brought such sorrow
Sky - sky - sky! Lo lowers in the skies
my mind always strays to space darken now the sunset
It was out of place, boldface, sly! yon moon
through which came segmenting, segmenting, segmenting
Goodbye, goodbye! Says I to the sun bye-bye

The homesick horizon hooraying
The splendid sunup shuttling now lowering
Only this and a sundown towards the grounds
While I pondered, last and rundown
Instead I uncovered the astronautics

The moonlit midnight maneuverings
In there stepped a blue sputnik Russia calling…
The soviet plot unsettling America was leading
And the spacemen never cutting
the tin never putting, moon rocks and butter
only this and a sociology

I awoke and flung the realm
Frozen plutonium ice cream?
I crave the current, celestial close
somewhat louder than the prose
to warn me about the day
I crave the sub terminal, Shavian sunshine yet sets anyway
Night has dawn
Light has fallen
As the sun sets…



8/13/19
written by James Edward Lee Sr.©2019

The Incineration of Childhood

We drank tang because the astronauts did...
Our plastic spacemen sashayed in sandboxes
we made lunar capsules out of tinfoil
on Halloween spacemen mingled 
with mad clowns jack o lanterns and ghosts.
Santa said ho ho ho from under paper mâché moon glow.

Anything was possible...
there were starry miracles 
beyond our four-block world
because the astronauts told us so. 

Apollo 1...when the fiery mare first appeared.
Kicked a blazing horseshoe into our satin minds.
Anything WAS possible...both ugly and divine... 
We still drank tang but childhood was incinerated.

Rocket

They say by the end of this current decade,
space travel will be the way to go,
those flights fifteen hours long
from London to Hong Kong
will take thirty nine minutes or so.
It all sounds quite appealing
but I have a feeling
the reality won't match the dream,
the brainstorming sessions
and artist's impressions
will not all quite be as they seem.
For the spacemen today
before they fly away
must be physically fit, at their best.
They undergo gruelling routines
'till their bodies are lean
and must pass a battery of tests.
There's no way that I
would be passed 'fit to fly'
undergoing 3G stress on a launch,
my eyeballs would burst
and what could be much worse
is what such force would do to my paunch.
My initial delight of making such a flight
has suddenly now lost all its fizz,
with a tear and a sigh
I wave 'bye' to Shanghai,
and so Skegness this summer it is.

Embracing the Universe

Do you ever wonder
When looking at the sky
While listening to thunder
Or just drifting by and by…

What would happen to you and others
If a spaceship landed flat and hard?
Your mother, your sisters and your brothers?
It would be great to land in the right yard.

But what if the good saucer landed in the wrong place?
Your next door neighbor’s garden, the one so rather unkind?
Would they decide to eliminate the human race?
They might assume this is the only people they would find.


What if mini-aliens landed in Cousin Jay’s worn out shoe?
Or landed in the yard of a bigot or blowhard?
Jay has held grudges since Christmas of 1992.
What decisions would they make if they landed in the wrong back yard?

Yes, I hope they do consult me before they make their landing.
I could make a little list of people who are sweet and kind.
I would not want to be one of the few people left standing.
And the spacemen might enjoy speaking with those they easily find.

If you are reading this, earth souls,
Let me assure you loud and clear.
Some of us welcome your space bowls,
And will embrace you when you’re near.

Aincient Alien

It is how you see things, perspective, what angle do you view it from
Hierogliphic writings alongside pictures of supposed spacemen in some long dead Egyptian Kings tomb.
We have all seen the documentaries, the speculation and expert opinion
Triangular spacecraft with a  tall skinny big eyed being with his head a fish bowl on
It must be true, aincient alien drawings from a time of Nekhebet, Rameses and others
Alongside indecipherable writings of a time long past relating fantastic story covers
But what if
Only the other day my young boy drew a picture of some fantastic nonsense with light
If he had drawn it on a rockside, in ten thousand years, it just might
Create speculation and disbelief, become the topic of controversy, conspiracy, am I right
Tom was doodling, being creative, using his mind and imagination
Maybe ten thousand years ago, others were doing just the same thing in a long past civiisation.

Haiku 12-8-16 2

Singers , Spacemen,
Their passings are remembered,
All ways with us all.

Conundrum 2 Cold In Space

Boy asks priest: 

Sir, I've seen spacemen that need to wear spacesuits because it's cold in outer space
do those who go to heaven also need spacesuits because of the cold?

Priest responds: No my son, souls do not feel the cold in heaven.

Boy responds: If souls cannot feel cold, how can they feel hot in hell

Good question

Little Lad and Big Dog,

Little lad and big dog,
Big dog and little lad,
A childhood shared in friendship,
A boy and his yellow lab.
The beginning passed through worried eyes,
As adults watched the transition,
But sometimes, fun was this new journey,
For the boy with imagined visions.
One day they would be explorers,
Making their way down sunlit canyons,
The next they would be Spacemen,
Still in space, each others' companion.
A warm heart, a steady step,
Confidence built each day,
Small dangers were averted,
And always disguised as play.
This dog had intuition
The boys Parents saw clean and true,
No need to fret with this well trained pet,
They had seen what this Lab could do.
The boy was never lonely,
With his saviour by his side,
To him it hardly mattered now,
The day that he turned blind.

Good dog :-)

© July 2013

Solar's Sting

Rough as sandpaper,
yet fair as fine flour,
a troop of tiny
trail on a tender 
terrain...lunar lane,

the collisions
on radiant rocks,
condense to form
...pale particles.

They are cool,
glassy shells
-abrassives

that clings
and stings

space

suits:

lock lungs
sieze sights,

the nightmare
of spacemen
on moonwalk.

A pollution
with solution:
it is tamed with magnetic 
rods.

Though the teary tale
that makes spacemen wail,
it blows and blossom,
in the Moon's bossom,
yet spacemen still sail.

Where On Earth Can I Be

Startled at waking beneath a gold gilded tree.
Thoughts quickly ventured through my mind, magic?
As wonderment asked, “Where on earth could I be?”
Intelligence knew a gold tree held no logic.
Rainbows and leprechauns pass through children's dreams. 
Was I awake? Where was my reality? 
Altogether lost in fantasy far away?
Yes, that must be it, a nervous breakdown.
 
Totally prepared to call my shrink, I shrieked!
Over the rise, I saw figures dressed in white…redeemed!

They came gliding through the clouds, oh, mental help!
Heaven had descended or so it to me seemed.
Exceptionally weird was their sight amid stars.
 
Spacemen dressed in white smiled and cheered.
Tomorrow we shall relate your eternal fate.
And you shall know all about the gold gilded tree.
Remember all those stories about evolution.
Surprise!  The stairway to the stars goes through Mars.


© February 21, 2012
Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen

Written for Poetry Soup Member Contest: STAIRWAY TO THE STARS
Sponsor: Linda-Marie The Sweetheart of P.S.

Eve of Purple Leaves In Deep Space

Retrorockets blasted
Spaceship settled down
Soft landing on a planet 
Dust plumes swirling ‘round.

Crewmen tested atmosphere
Before exiting the door 
Donned cumbersome spacesuits
With a planet to explore.

Soon, strange life forms appeared 
One tall, one nimble and small 
Each wore purple leaves, from purple trees –
that’s all.

The small one plucked purple pears 
But before she ate, gave one to her mate 
The spacemen shouted quickly--
“Stop! Please wait!” 
--James Tate

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