"astrolabe" poems
Both light and shadow
are the dance of Love.
Love has no cause;
it is the astrolabe of God’s secrets.
Lover and Loving are inseparable
and timeless.
Although I may try to describe Love
when I experience it I am speechless.
Although I may try to write about Love
I am rendered helpless;
my pen breaks and the paper slips away
at the ineffable place
where Lover, Loving and Loved are one.
Every moment is made glorious
by the light of Love.
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The shadows have their seasons, too.
The feathery web the budding maples
cast down upon the sullen lawn
bears but a faint relation to
high summer's umbrageous weight
and tunnellike continuum-
black leached from green, deep pools
wherein a globe of gnats revolves
as airy as an astrolabe.
The thinning shade of autumn is
an inherited Oriental,
red worn to pink, nap worn to thread.
Shadows on snow look blue. The skier,
exultant at the summit, sees his poles
elongate toward the valley: thus
each blade of grass projects another
opposite the sun, and in marshes
the mesh is infinite,
as the winged eclipse an eagle in flight
drags across the desert floor
is infinitesimal.
And shadows on water!-
the beech bough bent to the speckled lake
where silt motes flicker gold,
or the steel dock underslung
with a submarine that trembles,
its ladder stiffened by air.
And loveliest, because least looked-for,
gray on gray, the stripes
the pearl-white winter sun
hung low beneath the leafless wood
draws out from trunk to trunk across the road
like a stairway that does not rise.
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Remember that day we glided along rice fields,
me and you lagging at the back,
while the 12 of us pedaled bicycles?
The clouds drooled down daylight,
and I was feeling lonely and crap.
You glanced back on the road and waited. "You alright?"
your eyes said.
And we chatted about our problems, time chopping away on an x-asis,
as we passed fields, motorbikes, and watersheds.
Those shared moments every day
with you, our friends, and our Vietnamese teaching staff,
it aligned my universe like a human astrolabe.
I'm so glad our group traveled across the world,
riding bikes and drinking beer unbounded by maps.
It ***** being home now, far away. I miss you and I'm always bored.
Jan 11, 2015
Jan 11, 2015 at 12:55 AM UTC
Light seeps through the
Window cadences of rhythm
Like a heartbeat
Of true intentions
Misconceptions dodge the soul
Dust particles pass my face
Proving I’m still alive
Somewhere inside
This shell
At night my astrolabe
Can not contain the measures
Of uneasiness and skepticism arising
In this government induced anxiety
Sep 16, 2019
Sep 16, 2019 at 3:58 PM UTC
Have you seen my God today?
It seems that i have lost Him
and cannot find him anywhere.
Not in verdant fields
nor rolling hills
or leafy trees He lies.
I search and search
And search
But still I cannot find Him
I searcheth high
and looketh low
but I do not find Him.
The oceans roar in consternation,
the ponds have no reply.
The rivers, streams, and little brooks
whisper He has died.
Where is He who has said
He's all encompassing?
Without a compass or a map
or even astrolabe,
He's lost in His design.
Oct 24, 2011
Oct 24, 2011 at 12:48 PM UTC
He’s journeyed many a treacherous route, scuttled ancient-ships,
ridden the skyscraper-troughs of crystal-seas, hunted enemies,
alone.
He’s guided by the lamps of the Heavens, the countless stars,
the sun and the moon, calculated the astrolabe,
alone.
He’s braved hurricane winds, the triangles of Bermuda, windless days,
leviathans & squids, scavenging whites and other such hungry things,
alone.
He’s got the strength of a Goliath, keeps his tenderness guarded under lock and skeleton-key,
his wounds bleed forever in the brokenness of a self-induced solitary confinement,
alone.
He’s the truest mariner, fights black-tempests within, protects himself from overexposure,
from another broken heart,
alone.
Dec 21, 2013
Dec 21, 2013 at 1:55 PM UTC
Mary had nine cannons to defend against the pirates.
The passengers lived in large cabins having low ceilings.
This carrack was steered by Sam, the best between pilots.
Three decks and the crew's quarters made it look as a building.
Their quarters and the captain's house were on the upper deck.
With a long boat and a shallop, this carrack was safe.
The galley was near the cabins; no one was put in check.
Its food didn't push people against the restraints to chafe.
This vessel had hatches to be used between the floors.
On the lower deck, near the cargo, 'twas the gun room.
They stored there guns, powder and shot using some locked doors.
Their scent was blurred by the meats and by the ladies' perfume.
The waves and the missing light made this deck cold and damp
For flour, biscuits, dried meats and vegetables, water and beer.
The ****** entered there only using a small lamp.
One by one, Sam and Sulim moved the rudder to steer.
The capstan used to heave up the anchor, was at the bow.
The binnacle stood directly in front of the wheel.
Through the compass, to have a night vision it could allow.
The magnetic deviation they could see and feel.
The sailors used the hourglass to measure their duty time
An astrolabe helped them see the position of stars.
Their chip board measured the speed during the stormy clime.
The Cross staff was skillful to see those ships of wars.
''Give me the quadrant to see that dawn star's altitude! ''
Freddy told Sam.''Why did you choose to buy a carrack? ''
''Provisions for long sails, but I can't say with certitude.
It's stable in heavy seas and helpful during attacks.''
'Did you hear about der Eyck? '' Continued Frederick.
''His instrument for longitudes and latitudes is new, ''
Said Arturo, a Spanish passenger, '' not a trick.''
''I'll buy the Plantius' version for me and my crew.''
(to be continued..)
Poem by Marieta Maglas
Jun 18, 2015
Jun 18, 2015 at 8:17 PM UTC
The life and
death of it -
Four thousand
years of relics
confront me as
memento mori:
glazed plate,
wine cup,
& garland of
jasmine blossoms.
Every hand
that knew
these is dust.
But in another
breath I'm in
my head, where
you are an
archaeologist,
recovering each
of these priceless
things: from under
far hill, in a copse
shaped like an "X,"
in meadows that
seem innocent,
but dig and gold
shines the eye.
Bronze after bronze
after bronze -
all yours. It's so easy
to see how this could
have been you -
hunting history
down to the bones.
Astrolabe,
book of jade,
turquoise drake
curling and curling.
They are all two
things at once:
They speak
the mortal voice
directly to my
deepest ear.
They are also
symbols of a
version of you
I see so easily -
in love with
the past, eager to
find it, wherever it
might be, unearth it
& swallow it whole.
Apr 21, 2019
Apr 21, 2019 at 4:03 PM UTC
Introduction:
She was a
Blooming flower envious as day
Primitive world could not lock her away.
She was
One of a kind
A tender heart and a beautiful mind.
She was
was a mathematician
and a philosopher
in an age where women were tied
and made to silently suffer.
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whatever I describe
must seem less
as data lie insufficient
and can not be regressed
The jewel shone brightly
reflecting light of planet and stars
and the light attracting
students from places far.
In kingdom of Alexandria
Where knowledge was power
she strode through the ladder
reaching pinnacle of the tower
All her students admired her
every one equal in her class
Like the first notions of Euclid
all equal to her and hence
equal to each other.
Never covered herself
in a cowl or cape
boldly she strode her world
even inventing Astrolabe
But alas! By religious fanatics
She was proclaimed a witch
Political victim to the
treacherous vines of jealousy
Kidnapped from her carriage
She was dragged into the
the holy caesareum
clothes ripped off by
the mob and ******
later her limbs were cut
and the body tied to a stake
only to be engulfed by the flames
and the mob around jumped
triumphantly in joy
proclaiming victory to god.
In present time too
she lays forgotten
as world desperately
tries to shed off
its masculine rag worn
for ages now torn
as some still try to stitch
it again.
And as I write with
tears in my eyes
her last words ring through
as she silently whispers
I forgive all of you.
Mar 4, 2016
Mar 4, 2016 at 11:37 AM UTC
A true lover is proved such by his pain of heart;
No sickness is there like sickness of heart.
The lover's ailment is different from all ailments;
Love is the astrolabe of God's mysteries.
A lover may hanker after this love or that love,
But at last he is drawn to the King of love.
However much we describe and explain love,
when we fall in love we are ashamed of our words.
Explanation by the tongue makes most things clear,
but love unexplained is clearer.
When pen hasted to write.
On reaching the subject of love, it split in twain.
When the discourse touched on the matter of love,
pen was broken and paper torn.
In explaining its reason, one sticks fast as an *** in mire;
Naught but Love itself can explain love and lovers!
None but the sun can display the sun.
If you would see it displayed,
turn not away from it.
Shadows may indicate the sun's presence,
But only the sun displays the light of life.
Shadows induce slumber like evening talks,
but when the sun asrises the moon is split asunder.
In the world there is naught so wondrous as the sun,
but the sun of the soul sets not and has no yesterday.
Through the material sun is unique and single,
we can conceive similar suns like it.
But the Sun of the soul,
beyond this firmament,
no like there is seen in concrete or abstract.
Where is the room in conception for His essence,
so that similitudes of Him should be conceivable?
Mar 4, 2016
Mar 4, 2016 at 1:08 PM UTC
Thrusting into the atmosphere
From my hearts astrolabe
Using rocket boosters
Filled with fierce tears
Thunder rolling through curved space
Launched from lands of gentle rage
As I close my soaring eyes
Tonight begins my nights journey.
Throttling expansive thrusts
Billowed smoke trails
Like comet tails;
Spectacular spacecraft
Is this human vessel
With enhanced astronautics –
Ascending towards deep space
Hoping to catch a glimpse of you.
O'Cosmic Prophet
I'm stargazed and Inward bound
Surging beyond the constellation of flames
Rising through the galaxies
As an interstellar traveller
Yet I see nothing but dark matter –
It seems as though I've lost myself
And barely exist within the confines of
My imagination.
Written by Abraham Charanek
Aug 25, 2016
Aug 25, 2016 at 8:41 AM UTC
"The world is WIDE and I travel it!
The world has a secret and I SEEK it!”,
Said I, as I sailed off one day
To follow tales of distant shores,
With untrammeled frontiers,
****** and pure!
Yielding to the demand of my disquieted soul,
“Voyage!” she cried, and I set upon my goal:
To stretch forth the extremities of my
Ambition -- to penetrate
The veil of all unknowing;
To heed to the heady lure
Of discovery,
Carried by the west wind, blowing!
The path I run will cost me years, and
I must try to go the distance.
But this is a longing for life undiluted,
Quaffed deep and savored
As a Barolo vintage,
Noble and intense.
Maps of her forbidding hinterlands were
Vouchsafed by Mariner Kings of ancient days.
I consulted the coded charts for clues, and
Configured the gilded astrolabe.
Obsession ruled my motives as I
Poured over sea-faring strategies.
The sagacious scrolls became a cypher,
Whispering exotic rumors
Of pleasures and possessions,
Steeped in rich antiquities.
My fertile mind was seized
By these boundless visions,
As the time came for our enterprise.
I shouted to my stalwart company,
“The road forward will not be forgiving,
But the rewards gained will outrageous fortune comprise!”
Our quest divided the latitudes as a
Scimitar separates flesh from bone.
My ship slashed the longitudes as we
Sought passage far from home.
My desire encircled her sensuous shape,
For she is a mistress, supple and warm.
This journey provided the means of escape, for
From the Tome of Glory these pages were torn!
Hence, joyously exulting, I made clear my claim,
“Wisdom is a treasure divine!
Adventure is the blood inflamed!”
My mad dream was unleashed and
I will always remember the day.
I was free to sail my heart’s tidal-course,
Venturing forth, far and away!
Aug 6, 2017
Aug 6, 2017 at 12:43 PM UTC
I do not hold an astrolabe
nor a compass,
yet the magnetic force
calculated the latitude
that pivoted my ship
around the axis
of your destination.
Jun 4, 2018
Jun 4, 2018 at 3:00 PM UTC