Mars, Musk, And Bond Girls
Mars is again in the news, and Musk has been silent
about going to Mars, perhaps he has found
Another planet more suitable to his temperament
We read that four women are going to Mars, mainly
because they have been astronauts and know
a thing or two about the limitless space if one gets
to far out can disappear into a time that does not
exist and are doomed to fly while drinking tea from
a straw, worrying about whether sugar is fattening.
It might be possible to unclog the dust in hidden
river beds on Mars, it might be that the dust is dry water
that, if we have a magic formula, will spring to life
sing like a waterfall in April, create sweet dams
and a landscape unspoiled by the ugly windmills
Should Elon Musk take a renewed interest in
Mars, he has the will to go there, but will he when
As a leader, introduce democracy among the crew
or demand Mars as an authoritarian regime
unfurled fists catch a butterfly's potential
fool me once shame on
me ~ fool me twice shame on you ~
but more I ignore ...
facts of life ~ well taught
lives well ~ so-so not so well ~
not at all ... jail cell
Spring to life ... summer
lounge ... fall remembered ~ then say
colder than least year
I dream to forget
you ... not at night but by day
~ you haunt my nightmares ...
*heard you of ... four two
three then none ... handstand yoga
taught by an angel
*baby crawl on fours, adult stands on two, elder's cane makes three, Heavenly carry leaves none ~ then mine is a parody pun.
Should I die and be cremated, please preserve my little skull,
For like a nut when the meat is gone, all's left is but the hull..
My skull is house that traps my thoughts, wherein does reason dwell.
Where words upon this paper, spring to life from brain's compel
Do not crush and blend my skull, as though it's a power shake.
Yet my body's bones after death, I care not if they break.
Find a pretty box, where my skull can rest in final close,
Where dreams can live forever in eternal skull's repose.
*The poet waits quietly to paint the unsaid*
6 million or more flowers to honor the dead
It's such a little thing-- remembrance, with flowers
a labor of love that would take many hours
Hardly even a start to make reparation
for the Shoah's lost lives, mass graves, and cremation
Wish this project were allowed, and I could take part
at the very least I pray --garlands from my heart
*by "Atticus"?
(This is a poem I wrote just now, in order to illustrate a point with this piece of art I did recently on FineArtAmerica, now giving it the same name as this poem, Hours of Flowers. So... I found an old photo of a guard tower and empty concentration camp field behind barbed wire -- in the public domain -- and eventually revamped it using Pixlr... I placed and re-sized each blossom, and added prayer-warrior faces and hands to the scene. I think it's also inspired by reading "Behind the Canvas" by Alexander Vance... imagining that if only my canvas could spring to life and make a positive impact on humanity...???)
---------remember haiku is for nature only ~ nature also has heart
tulips are tulips
then come yellow daffodils
they dance in the wind
in the early spring~ they spring to life
tulips and daffodils ~ colors rife
in petals' splendor ~ their love unfurls
then one fades ~ other just follows
6/6/2023
a monoku, haiku, and 4 lines of rhyme contest
sponsored by: tania kitchin
coral cloud sails in convoy mist melts in meadow…
dew breathes scent of spring
sunburst dawn sky flares
chromatic surge explodes buds...
butterfly show starts
Trees spring to life after verdant resurrection,
through rustling leaves floral fragrance finds direction,
allures me in moonlit night with your amorous grace,
your eternal spring holds me in ecstasy of embrace.
______________
May 31, 2023
Syllable count checked with HMS
Contest : A Monoku, Haiku And 4 Lines Of Rhyme-
Same Theme
Sponsored by : Tania Kitchin
Uncovering the earth, as the snow finally fades
Sunny days; bringing, aesthetically soothing jades
Towns spring to life, with congruent daily parades
Simply enjoying life, in its moments and decades;
Words following free; in poetically wild chardes
A deck of playing cards filled with hearts; and no spades
When the evening sets its sight the joy, it still never degrades
Fulfilling; is discovering; when happiness, promenades
Guru chakra announces the master’s presence
Subtle, soft, humming tingling, rapture ineffable
Joyous peace, infused by sublime bliss incense
In-form nodes entwine in intimate dance affable
It is here wherefrom love magnetism is regulated
Constant flux of soma nectar within body flowing
Dormant conduits spring to life feeling now elated
Thoughts recede and heart’s aura begins glowing
18-April-2023
On the wings of winter the polar winds sigh and depart,
the frost-fastened barren boughs hear their harsh whisper…
“you’ll listen to the sweet spring music soon, don’t fall apart,
the singing southern breeze will caress you, you won’t whimper”.
The misty mask melts away, the blue sky smiles again bright,
as the ambrosia of spring dances in the diaphanous air,
cheerful cloud befriends the luring waft, takes the fairy flight,
embraced by the amorous sunbeam the buds bloom with flair.
The defoliated sad trees spring to life after verdant resurrection,
the glow of sunburst sky paints lively motif on merry meadow.
On rippling flow of zephyr the floral fragrance designs attraction
for the butterflies to perform ballet in the spring time show.
_______________
February 21, 2023
Contest : In Bloom
Sponsored by : Joseph May
May reigns spring to life
flowing greens squint at the sun
all learning to fly
We carry Dad in this huge box,
four of us bearing the weight,
that of him, that of the box, this very box,
this weighty combination, a virtual sarcophagus,
or so it seems to us,
the four siblings who support this box,
this very box, this hefty bulk,
containing our dad, on this day.
He was our old friend, still so,
and is a guy who supported us,
kept us in bread, daily,
and much more, much more.
He is a heavy man
in this accursed, hefty, weighty box.
Our shoulders sag, slump,
two left, two right.
Oh, the weight of this dear father
in this big box, on this day,
a huge thing we'd rather not bear.
Do we not wish this man would spring to life?
(May 2022)
On wings of wasted winter northern winds depart,
their whisper frost-fastened barren boughs hear…
wait, you’ll listen sweet music soon, don’t fall apart,
singing southern breeze will caress, you’ll endear.
Misty mask melts away, turning the sky cobalt clear,
dainty spring descends, drizzling in diaphanous air,
gossamer clouds clad in ribbons of regal robe appear,
enticed by their satin shadow the buds unfurl in flair.
Defoliated trees spring to life after verdant resurrection,
sunburst sky sprays dust spectrum on dawning meadow.
In the flow of zephyr floral fragrance finds the direction
to trail butterflies flying in the arena of springtime show.
Southern winds waft your scintillating scent sailing to me,
alluring me with moonlit magic to the ardent river of grace,
its silver ripples reflect the moonbeam lattice on you, I see…
your eternal spring I’ll drape forever in ecstasy of embrace.
____________________
April 21, 2022
For A Brian Strand Premiere Choice Contest
toad stools
spring to life
in grass
Think not of me ascending
To some celestial space
Some Heaven never-ending
Spending eternity in God’s grace.
Think not of me transcending
This universe, material
To some vapid, unoffending
Paradise ethereal.
Rather think of me as blending
Into my mother Earth
Melding with and mending
The womb that gave me birth.
Planted as an acorn descending
To spring to life once more
As a mighty oak unbending
While the winds around me roar
Planted in the earth and sending
My filaments through the soil
Downward wending and befriending
The worms that round me coil.
Think of me thus lending
All my life-force in this way
To the glorious unrelenting
Splendour of each day.
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