If fusty galaxies twirl like Shakespearian poetry,
is astrology a tragedy or a comedy?
Are there clusters of tumbling uppercase in outer space,
the remnants of conceit metaphors that broke up like meteors?
My scattered universe is full of orphaned verse.
Why do terse alien names all have hyphens?
Quatrains swirl in fiery hues across the ecliptic plane,
and sonnets streak by, like sparkling comets.
Argh! Where’s a pencil - too late - the thought’s gone.
Ever lose something essential - cause you couldn’t find a pencil?
It’s ok though, it’s not just me and not just you.
Black holes are swallowing Haiku too.
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Songs for this:
Hypnotized by Fleetwood Mac
Theme for a Nude Beach by The B-52's
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I saw a line with something like, “universe of orphaned verse,” in a poem a few days ago. The idea of celestial words rhyming with writing terms ‘mused’ me. I’ve been looking for the author to credit them (hello, computer searches). If you know the guilty party, please let me know.
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*No, this is NOT a sonnet, it’s just the name