1st Annual Voyage to Space
Hello members. As promised, we would like to continue with our themed monthly prompts. This September we take our first annual voyage to space.

Write a poem inspired by science, science fiction, space travel or anything of that pioneering spirit.

Comments, crits and kudos are all welcome. 

Posts poems as new replies to this thread.

A couple videos with well-written lyrics to get us started...


I am standing still. 
Below me the earth spins
relentlessly endlessly 
slowly. I dig my feet 
into the cool grass 
to hold on, to ground
my senses, to still myself 
completely, and then 
I look up.
The stars overhead sing,
they spin, they guide
the sailors and the mystics,
the secret whispered wishers,
the silent night fishers.
They burn as they turn
hotter than heart’s fire. 
They try to warm the night sky, 
that cold abyss of ancient dust 
and beams of light traveling.
Traveling, traveling 
farther than I can comprehend
only to land in the end
on my upturned eyes,
as I ask with heady bliss 
for the stars to grant my wish.
The Soufflé isn’t the soufflé; the soufflé is the recipe. --Clara 
The off-worlders 
are the quiet ones.
Discourse puzzles them
and language is met
with smiles and blinking eyes.
They covet the rings
on our fingers
which they caress
taking deep breaths
followed by what we take
to be sighs.  They enjoy
crowds and always move 
in pairs, holding hands
behind their backs
a though about to perform
some acrobatic act.
Their visits occur 
from invisible portals
that seem linked
to the arias in La Bohème.
It’s been three years
since they first arrived.
They are left to wander
at will, and we no longer
respond with wonder
but savor their company
and the fortunate few
who know them best
are silent, keeping them 
safe from the unsympathetic.
It’s a happy alliance
for the family of man
and they seem to know
that their presence
is a blessing for
the least among us
and act accordingly.
(09-02-2023, 10:41 AM)Tiger the Lion Wrote:  

Heh.  We wore out that one on the juke box in the Officers' Club.
feedback award Non-practicing atheist
Upon Observing Earthlings

What funny things they are
so many layers
full of stones and strings
and all manner of squishy things.

Their minds are closed
to one another
their thoughts are secret and solitary
they keep them that way
by telling lies and battening their eyes.

Their outsides are precarious,
disposed to fail
from slightly changing temperature,
a sliver of lead,
or bacteria on their bread.

And yet. Inside,
the invisible inside,
they have infinite possibilities,
full of hope and creativity,
fierce application of raw innovation.
They change and rearrange
their thoughts and lives
always trying to improve their hives.
The Soufflé isn’t the soufflé; the soufflé is the recipe. --Clara 
The Next Subdivision

SETI on the bullhorn
spitting absolute geometry

and for what?

First Contact means
harsh new parables,
mustard seeds in our teeth
and an occupied Nicaea,

even if we're wholly 

agreed on the math.
Alien Visitation

The first True Martians arrived
at the beginning of the 25th century
to huge fanfare- aerial parades,
and festivals that lasted for two weeks
across Pangea. The World Ministry
accepted the fabled Red Diamond
and Earth's people marveled
curiously at the Martians.

By the Third Visitation
barely anyone took notice.
Those Visitors were able to discover
their ancestral homelands, and many
were reunited with the remaining
lineage of their Earthly ancestors.

All were awestruck by the expanse
of blue skies, and oceans, that were
only ever experienced in Holospace.
Still, few felt truly at home on Earth-
their generation had become accustomed
to life in The Blue Shell-
Mars was all they had ever known.
little green men
eyes like Faberge eggs
hands like turkey feet
Astral Stampede

The star drover
surmounted the empty black shoulder 
of a glowing ridge
gazed down into the sparkling arroyo
that marked the edge of the range in light years.

Red and gold dust settled thick on his nape,
he let the circuitry of his reins go loose
and the solid bulk of his midnight mare
shook its head against the interrupted dark.

Softly lowing orbs moved expectantly
on the smoking plain behind
nuzzling the sinking phosphor light, candle grass
like flames spread thin on the deep blue and airless void.

The star drover expected no stutter of trouble
or fire working dragon
to poison the lymph clear night
as his calloused palm rubbed the knuckles 
of his other hand in prayer.

Suddenly he caught the skip and stare of fire
out of the corner of a last word
and grabbed for his rocketing whip
even before the screaming brand had seized an infant star.

Like a rain of lightning
his wary herd was instantly burning into a roaring river
the crack of his green flared whip
a bare whisper in his ear.

The fear maddened, dire falling herd
streamed across the drowning night sky.
His startled mare was hurled against those ceaseless waves
and the star drover and his mount went down
before the glassy hell of the stampede.

Blind Date

She said her name was Curpuk
and extended her trobla to greet me.

Always the cliche alien
she was trying to escape
her dull and sterile home 
in small town Vobbinsak
for a new flitgo
and earth seemed as fresh
as a hot cup of slopka.

We drank wine and bugla all night,
ostensibly flirting,
while talking about politics and fumgum
till she passed out on my couch
and I retired to bed.

I woke to her eating me
for breakfast with HP sauce
and Loctarian salsa.
Neutered Planet

Man’s failure to fare deeper into space:
an unresolved chord in his destiny
as he declines to father further men
and womankind to bear them if he tried.

Instead he cringes counting face by race
maims children to evade maternity
no stars for him or babies for them, then:
Earth’s room enough for doom when trust has died.
feedback award Non-practicing atheist
A Departure

                                        romance lies

                                                            in being

at the alter


by a being
who may or may not be

a bridegroom
in a purple tux

come to rapture us away
                                                   to a better star
India killed it
reminding us of a moon
too soon forgotten

                [Image: Mars_Copter.jpg]

                          < we have a colony on mars now >

                    though not the one we expected

                    but then
                    i never expected to be a protected species either

                                      - - -

                                    Credits: Cutest little helicopter on Mars - Photo by Perseverance Rover
                                                                                                                i used to know a lotta stuff, but i still have eight cats

There is no earth-like world
so far from here
that I can't get to it
and find you 

waiting for me.

I could conjure 
a beach somewhere
with silver sand 
and not another soul in sight

where a sun-like star
splits the cotton candy clouds
to spit lemon drops
on your shoulders
while you skip in the surf--


pretending not to see me.

But there are nightmares too;
nightmares darker than lucid is luminous.

There are nightmares too.

***From NaPM 4 years ago. I cleaned it up a little for the occasion.  Hysterical

                                                < Somewhere on Mars >
                                                    Can be found here

                                                                                                                i used to know a lotta stuff, but i still have eight cats

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