"meteoroids" poems
I want a swing
To sway between
The moon and the earth,
A hammock to lie
Between Canis
Major and minor,
Let me row a boat
One paddle
Through
The milky way,
Let me pedal
Across the galaxy
On a starship enterprise trike,
I want to race
A shooting star,
Whittle meteoroids
Into beautiful
Paper weights,
Surf the rings
Of Saturn,
And play
Laser tag amidst
All the space debris,
Let me be astronaut...
APAD13 010 - © okpoet
Jan 10, 2013
Jan 10, 2013 at 4:01 PM UTC
Zeus and Amphitrite
edge of the sea
reflecting down
looking up
god or goddess
reflecting the same
draped in gold
Hercules Coronal Borealis Great Wall
superstructure feathered on the shoulders
skyward brilliance reflecting
shaking future stars
comets meteors meteoroids asteroids meteorites
rain down around
deafening sound of the greatest thunder bolt
hear me
hear her
**** this
**** that
roll good times
patience is virtue
zero point
generosity kindness affection pleasantness
waiting on the ecliptic plane
sun and heavens
where
hummingbirds dragonflies soaring creatures
rise out of the abyss
propelled and lifted
seahorse air bubbles octopuses chant
straight ******* propulsion ****** velocity
magic of the darkness
ready set giddy up
Oct 28, 2018
Oct 28, 2018 at 5:08 PM UTC
There are meteoroids falling into my head
Meteors coming into the sky of my mind
I have no where to go
There's a voice
that whispers sad things
when I'm happy
I'm soft when you're around
then you leave me alone
with a stranger's voice
I'm losing myself
I love the idea of dying soon
There is a shooting star I see in a dream
A fire in the sky
I'm not afraid
of dying with a smile
Finally the voice
will explode
into bits of a meteorite
Aug 4, 2018
Aug 4, 2018 at 2:42 AM UTC
he had a voice that made her want to believe in eternity
she had a heart that made him want to believe in love
his mind has a secret garden bearing grapes
his words are butterflies kissing flowers
his thoughts derives from what passion brings
her body curves perfectly like a well crafted grapevine
her crown is the minds image
her beauty is light in a formless world
her body gave him life
his soul told her spirit to feel honesty from that hug
a hug warm like a summers evening.
Mar 24, 2017
Mar 24, 2017 at 6:57 AM UTC
The Night Sky
Taking a walk and it’s late, dark out,
sky full of clouds.
Family in beds, sleeping.
Watching rows upon rows of feral shadow clouds roll
across the sky in heavy sheets.
Air is charged, crackling from the energy
of my body as I walk by naked.
I have stolen the stars tonight.
Walking slowly, no thoughts,
my feet among the trees
trees blades of grass my immense form looking down
At mountains the size of mole hills
aerial, seeing as the raptor must.
Granted immense powers such as hyperfocus and
watching buck leap elegantly miles below.
Body is now composed of innumerable celestial bodies
Time is become me,
Form curving elegantly
fabric of spacetime billowing
in the crystalline winter wind.
As I walk I am everything and nothing.
The universe breathes throughout me
stellar nebulas exhale clouds of interstellar gas and dust
across my chest up my arms and neck red giants and
supergiants my legs erupting supernova, black holes
behind my knees across my face trillions of asteroids and
meteoroids sailing coming together in fantastic collisions
all this and looking up the night sky,
Devoid,
clouds moving quick under nothing absolute nothing.
Jan 24, 2015
Jan 24, 2015 at 2:35 AM UTC
there's the sun,
and all the stars,
and he is the moon
who reflects
the light to me
when the dark
comes around
and i can't see
without the sun,
the moon would
not be shining
so the moon
chases the sun
continuously
then he tells me,
"isn't she lovely?"
somewhere deep
inside of me,
i desperately wish
he was talking
about me
but my light can
never be as bright
as hers
she is the sun
that lights him up
and i am just
a mere human
who can see
the beauty
of the universe
whenever i look
up
i see the moon
with all its stars,
all of the bright,
little things
along with all
of the flaws on
its surface
but i just can't
explain why
he looks so
beautiful, so
perfect
in my eyes
your universe
might include
the galaxies,
the planets,
asteroids,
meteoroids,
and comets
but my universe
is when i can
see all the
constellations,
hear all of the
rustling trees
and still feel
the same thing
in my heart
whenever i look
up
and imagine
that he is
holding me
in his arms
Feb 25, 2015
Feb 25, 2015 at 2:18 AM UTC
The majestic of poetry
To some is a fantasy
A realm in which
They cannot fathom to be
I myself, on the other hand
Run parallel with poetry
Poetry majestically sparkles
From time to time upon me
Sonnets and limericks
Sparkle magically into my brain
Happening when I least expect
Meteoroids falling, I run to jot them down
Before forgetfulness sets in with pain
A three line stanza sometimes is enough
To satisfy my need
Other times I must write a lot
An octave for instance may be
What I need to hit my poetic spot
Either way I dream
I too could compose
Long prophetic fantasies
Such as Homer's Iliad and Odyssey
The majestic life
Of poetry is fantasy
Thriving the heart
Which dwells within me
Mar 4, 2017
Mar 4, 2017 at 5:33 PM UTC
She had meteoroids falling from her mouth
when she spoke, a wish waiting
to be granted, and she murmured
to the young Adonis: forget me not,
and he, bare-faced, beautiful, perhaps
more than she, held her in his arms
as if she were Aphrodite herself
and promised: forget me not.
He always said the planets
aligned when they met, the sun
alight in her laugh and the moon
alive in her smile of darkness;
and he, alabaster, like a work
of Duquesnoy, shattered as the meteor crashed
through his love, terracotta rooftop,
the forget-me-nots burning, his hands stained like merlot.
And the girl with bluebell eyes,
stars on her tongue, teeth like the milky way,
looked to the angel-faced boy and hissed:
forget me not.
Sep 18, 2019
Sep 18, 2019 at 3:30 PM UTC
This was it this is what had been waited on for so long.
Glistening eyes and an open heart
that of which echoes thunder
It had been said it wouldn't come for many years but hope has proven other wise.
Dangerous it is being so close to something so rare and valuable but yet so priceless .
Not a soul nor a being can render the utmost of riches to claim what is her eternity and the serendipity which lead to him.
For he is hardly seen.
She professes she can feel the heat from miles and miles afar, feels the sparks on her tongue.
The meteoroids small bijou's skimming the pure scented skin of herself
she appears to cease to exist when being compared to his grandeur.
It is as if he is her and her him.
One.
They are still circling the universe in nirvana.
Her savior her life: Comet Jonathan her eternity, serenity.
Oct 2, 2017
Oct 2, 2017 at 5:32 PM UTC