PATIENCE
Supper comes at five o'clock, At six, the evening star. My lover comes at eight o'clock, But eight o'clock is far. How could I bear the thought all day, The while I wait to see The clock-hands laboring to bring Eight o'clock to me. Marjorie Stone Otto Submitted by the poet's daughter, Ann Otto Warfield, with the following note: You have it exactly as I remember it, but there is one caveat to add: While I heard her recite it a number of times, especially when sighting the “wishing star” at twilight, I never actually heard my mother say...
Bubble-Gum Moon (An Arbor Vitae-Lunar Tale)
on any given evening from our summer eves of June one may behold a mystical scene appearing well beyond noon now…September is too late you see and May…is just too soon if you are hoping you may chance to glimpse a brand new bubble-gum moon oh yes…ti's pearl white in color but with an aura-like…wispy pink bloom coddled high up in the heavens where…all our angels commune while far below…and along the banks of an ancient Arbor Boon one might hear…the sweet billowy song of every floating...bobbing…untroubled treble…loon and as cattails arch and sway and swoon from those silent...
AND IF...
June is the month when the Romanian national poet, Mihai Eminescu (1850-1889), climbed toward the stars. May is the month when his best translator, Corneliu M. Popescu (1958-1977), was born. In their memory, and saluting the beautiful stellar-lunar demonstration of the Astropoetry Blog for Global Astronomy Month 2011, here is a love poem in which the Cosmos represents a natural component of human life: And If -by Mihai Eminescu (English translation from the Romanian by Corneliu M. Popescu) And if the branches tap my pane And the poplars whisper nightly, It is to make me dream again I hold you...
The Consolation of Orion
It was to be called “The Constellation of Orion” a poem about isolation, with myth as metaphor. The first line would be ‘Dark Matter' doesn't even come close. With accidental accuracy, I tapped out “The Consolation of Orion.” Only Orion seems beyond consolation separated from his beloved Pleiad Merope. I think of him, his club raised, his belt emblazoned with the brightest of stars, a brilliant globe set in his knee, and none of those glorious jewels of any value to a man alone, a hunter robbed of quarry. I expect he walks the past like a game trail, paler...
In the Lion's Den
In star-spangled den, The Lion-King sleeps and dreams Through this April night. In a magic hour, Imagination wakes him For one brief moment... Out of that far sky Straight to my poised pen he leaps With the speed of thought, In a quantum leap— His amazing grace is pure Astropoetry. By Bob Eklund, Los Angeles, California, U.S.A. Note: This poem came about in an interesting way. On April 1, at about 3:30 a.m., I woke in the dark with an idea in my head about writing a “Leo the Lion” poem. Lines kept coming to me, and I...
