Stardust

 

A season of darkness descends 

Heavy as our worldly cares 

Of wars & long disagreements

Blanketing candle light with chill

Can we recall the bright sunshine

That books give us, turning hours to

Gold and greens the path we trod upon

Words filled us, stories infused us

Can we fall as sepia brown leaves

Soft against the wind, accepting

Of nature's cycle, dying to dust

Belonging back to soil, a moment

So brief, we are but a speck

So mote, where millions & millions

Have walked this way before

Have gazed to the sky with awe

That we are & all that we can be

is second in time, a blue dot 

Of infinity.  I float, light 

as stardust, the tide rises in me

Of hope, blue as cosmic ocean

Of love, calling us back home

Inspired by Carl Sagan's Cosmos.  He was the Director of the Laboratory studies and David Duncan Professor of Astrology and Space Sciences at Cornell University . He was the recipient of the Joseph Priestly Award "for distinguished contributions to the welfare of mankind", and the Pultzer Prize for literature.  He died in Dec. 1996.

“The nitrogen in our DNA, the calcium in our teeth, the iron in our blood, the carbon in our apple pies were made in the interiors of collapsing stars. We are made of starstuff.”

“One glance at a book and you hear the voice of another person, perhaps someone dead for 1,000 years. To read is to voyage through time.”

“The cosmos is within us. We are made of star-stuff. We are a way for the universe to know itself.”

Goodreads on Carl Sagan

YouTube, Pale Blue Dot

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - A Bookish Mood, hosted by guest, Dora.   Join us when the pub doors open at 3pm EST.

autumn wishes

 

Blue windspells, slivers of sunlight, apple trees 

Carve us in silhouettes of geese in flight

Keeling in gratitude, with fruits, sweet & scarred

Blue windspells, slivers of sunlight, apple trees 

Hold us awed by falling leaves - plum, gold & russet

Filling each grey hour with pines & yearning 

Blue windspells, slivers of sunlight, apple trees 

Brighten our nights, warm as butternut soup

Folding time pink as origami cranes

Posting for dVerse Poets Pub- OpenLightNight.

Join us with a poem when the pub doors open at 3pm EST.  Thanks for your comments!

we are lungs and history

 

Under the maple trees, we fall

Soft as pinecones, sun-creased skin

We worry not where we land and rust

We embrace the autumn season

We are kin with elm, oak, pine, spruce

And so many more than we can count

We worry not where we fit & thrive

With wildflowers at our feet

When sky is blue, we breathe as one

At night, we dream of stars, all bright

We worry not about darkness

And bow to the tides of the moon 

We grow older than elephants

With wrinkles, warts & wounds

We revel our fruits & seed pods

Instead of poison, spikes and strifes

We are your lungs and history

But we can also be barren land

When forgetting about us, a voice calls

For war, spilling oil, blood and gore

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Writing from a Collective Point of View, Hosted by Bjorn Rudberg.

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haunted & uncrowned

your thin hands are those of a sparrow

poised to slump, defeated scarecrow  

no caws or birdsongs can reach you

no grunts or hoots from small creatures

can meander near your shadow

the green and lavender hues in the faraway

distance hurts your eyes

wallowing you deeper in your wounds & woes

how you allowed it to fester, red & rot 

can the wind make you swish & sway at all?

can the sun spark a seed of memories:  lush 

yellow green needles, pine cones and nuts?

sorrow seeps from every pore of your skin

oh the agony of being uncrowned leafless tree

bark beetle-bested, your inside is solid carcass

knees keeling

ribs reeling

tell me when you are ready for the

axe to fall

Georgia O’Keefe, Dead Piñon Tree (1943), 40 x 30 inches, oil on canvas, Gift of The Georgia O’Keeffe Foundation
2006.5.180 © Georgia O’Keefe Museum

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Haunted, hosted by Melissa Lemay.   Please join us when the pub doors open at 3pm EST.

the show, the frontman, at their very best

 

when the showlights are blazing bright

its time to put on cryptic smile

your inked arms are love letters, sight

on your fighter's stance.  this trial-

your art, your music are your knights

to knock down the rumors with style-

your band is the greatest- that's right 

(&) you're the best - chameleon with guile

waxing the theatre floor with green

grass, crooning to sky of shadows

there's a mirror of you, not clean

shaven, but stark naked, no prose

to mask real fear, loss, the scene

to question our life's highs and lows 

there are no answers in the screen

we left, beating hearts, with caws from crows

In response to the poem, When I'm among the Blaze of Lights

by Siefried Sassoon

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Dead Poet's Society, hosted by Kim M. Russell.

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burning

you can turn red hot, an angry wildfire

on this autumn season

but the cool nights have prevailed

casting a soft brushed-golden light 

on your skin

on your cheeks

browning

mellowing

slowing down

your pulse rate simmers to lethargic

wait

you bow to nature

autumn:  burning bush

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Quadrille hosted by Lisa Fox.  This is a 44 word post with the selected word, brush.   Join us when the pub doors open at 3pm EST.  Thanks for your visit and comments.