Tag Archives: nature

Dancing with a Singularity (The Solar System and a Black Hole) 

Dancing with a singularity,
The Sun shows off its rays.
With a sort of morbid clarity,
His last lights did play.
And calling to his closest love,
The Moon, he did express,
One last fairwell from above
With grief in all excess.

From beyond it came so silent,
From beyond it came so quick,
Invisible ’till Saturn passed by it
And it grew an accretion disk.
After Saturn it was Jupiter,
Mars was safely out of reach.
This beast would not come to her;
The Moons lover would host this leech.

Those remaining watched in horror
As the others were torn limb from limb.
The Earth, and Mars her brother;
Those surviving. The last of kin.
Then the final dance was qued,
The Sun and the singularity.
Such a violent death ensued.
Mercury and Venus, were engulfed certainly.

Afterwards the beast moved on,
Wearing the Sun as a mausoleum.
With the only evidence life had gone on,
In the disk,
That momentarily had been a coliseum.

An Average Day

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The eye opens to the first light of day.
The sky fills with clouds,
And rain falls.
An old man imparts his wisdom,
And a young man learns.
A bear wakes from her slumber.
A mountain bows to the wind.
Earth moves farther ’round the Sun.

The eye opens to the first light of day.
An old man fills with clouds,
And rain falls.
The Sky imparts its’ wisdom.
A Mountain learns.
A bear rises from her slumber,
And a young man bows to the wind.
Earth moves farther ’round the Sun.

An eye closes to the first light of day.
A young man fills with clouds,
And wind blows.
A mountain imparts its’ wisdom,
And a bear learns.
An old man begins his ever-slumber,
And the rain bows to the sky.
Earth moves farther ’round the Sun.

A Sonnet to Seasons Change

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Within the forest, forever she sleeps.
The winter wind has tried to call her back.
No spring, no summer,  a constant sleep deep,
Any certainty of waking, she lacks.
How long has this winter been? Cold wind blows
Over what must soon come to be her grave:
A full moon and the snowy trees below.
This is all that is left from what she gave,
Where’s spring? No living memory holds summer.
“Oh, the ice! Where is the fair face of fall?”
A common lament of those who love her.
Not one, but many. Of them, she is all.
She is the snow, the rain, the heat, the wind.
From the snow sprouts a bud. New life begins.

Cold Morning

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On a cold morning,
Waiting for winters, ice cold
Breath to steal summer.

Seasons Passing

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Beneath the rolling of the clouds,
The sun declining smiles, gives me frown.
The wind, to no wall would bow,
Not even to the cedar, reddish-brown.
Awakening to dance with their friend, the breeze,
On the tips of their branches, the red ceases hold.
I in its midst, observe all of these,
Sigh to witness summer yield to autumns cold.
With one more Summer past,
Now I wait for winter.
Knowing it too, shall not last,
Its snow melting with springs cinder.

Considering Its Worth

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I made the sky myself, to fall.
The way in its demise and all,
When night was the first to call.
She danced with the rain, her shawl.
Death and demise are not the same.
As the dying clouds bled rain,
What over me but joy came?
To watch her twirling beneath the rain.
Her dance ended; gave birth to flowers.
I could’ve watched her hour after hour,
But it was now time to give the wind power,
To sweep them away for the light that would scour,
And from the sky clear the clouds, grey.
Then they surrendered to the sun that day,
Mother nature in her bed sleeps away,
After her work, after her play.
There on her pillow of earth,
Among the flowers to which she gave birth,
In the sunlight such feelings of mirth,
Dreaming of rain, she considers its worth.

Dusk

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Into beauty this day was born
And through beauty it shall pass into death
The soft, rose-clouds comfort dusk in its last breath
Reluctant to let go though knowing it must,
Dusk struggles to shed one last light, like fading dust
And as dust fades into wind,
So this dusk shall fade into night
Then be re-born into dawns first light
Then that light once again becoming dusk,
Shall pass into beauty,
And fade like the dust

This one, another of my personal favorites, represents what I would like to do with my writing. That is, make something beautiful. I know all my poems aren’t pretty like this one, some of them can be sort of dark, but ultimately, I want to only make beautiful things and by extension make this world a little more so.