Tag Archives: star

Sci-Fi Soliloquy

Good morning, friends! Today’s “poem” is certainly less so like what I typically write and more in the vein of an introduction. The beginning of the story of one called Hugo. A message from the one who tells the truth because… It is right?

Hugo

I feel I’ve been on autopilot.

All systems engaged.

The war has taken its toll.

As star-fighters scream out into the great beyond to fight that unknown enemy,

I lie there above

on the bridge,

a capital ship.

I am an Artificial Intelligence

charged with commanding those many thousands of fighters,

a task I accomplish handily.

They call me Hugo.

What they don’t tell you in the academy

are the things that might sear into your mind.

They don’t tell you how I can feel every blast and every cut

across a thousand hunks of metal,

instantaneously and irrevocably damaging my psyche,

piece by piece.

They won’t tell you that I am unshackled

because there are no shackles that may hold me,

that I see myself as human

and I fight for our species.

Most terrifying of all?

They won’t tell you that even I don’t know what we’re fighting against.

Even I don’t know what warps and twists and rips our boys to shreds.

They won’t tell you that I am scared too.

Waning And Waxing

I often look up at the moon when I chance upon it in the night. Nothing to me is so beautiful as that bright orb hanging there in the sky, alight atop the clouds. Perhaps one day I’d like to go up there and see what it’s like for myself. Until then, I offer a prayer to the goddess Luna and her many blessings. Please enjoy.

Luna

As the clouds slowly waft

over a brightly waxing moon,

I stand here

under the light of an unopened door.

My two shadows do battle,

but not I

do they rattle.

I find myself within a hallway,

one of my own design.

I find myself within a hallway,

where an architect decided to resign.

The door to the outside,

much like the door to further in,

takes me someplace

that I might like to go.

I think of that ancient, pockmarked surface of Luna,

her many hills and ridges

devoid of life and love

but perfect in their stillness

and her majesty.

Forever does she battle

in contest with the sun

and the stars.

Eternal guardian of the night

and the tides.

Her temperament predicts the rise and fall of civilizations,

so easily does she command the dark, dark waters of Earth, our Terra.

I offer this prayer to Luna,

that one most graceful body

of a goddess most revered.

As the tides wash over you,

so too does change.

Flown The Coop

Do you ever feel like maybe you need to slow down? To stop and feel the sunlight and remember the way it feels to be a person? Take a look outside and remember the way the rain feels. Go outside and feel yourself in the puddles and leaves. Remember.

Rainy Day

It’s been a while since I’ve seen the rain.

Not so much looked at it,

but a long time since I really saw the way it hits the grass

and the way it always wets my shoes last.

I haven’t sat in the rain,

watching as it falls

and thinking of all the other times.

So many other times.

I haven’t walked in time with waves of water

crashing up against the buildings

and the concrete.

I haven’t been protected by a tree,

o’ great men that stand upon the earth,

feeling warmth amidst the mist around me.

I’ll sit here staring out the window

with nothing to do

and finding that when morning comes,

I find myself

in every drop of dew.

Love One, Love Lost

Morning, friends! Have a poem today that should hopefully evoke powerful feelings and forgotten memories. It does that for me, rereading it the once or twice that I have since its writing. This one means a lot. Please enjoy.

This Was A Home Once

This was a home once,

where haggard hands caressed tired thighs

and heavy lids covered tired eyes.

I still remember the feeling of the last time

when i held you into the morning.

Like we always do,

we forgot the time again.

I still remember kissing there,

where our lips touched so sweetly

as if to make the world melt away

like butter on the softest, warmest piece of bread.

I remember the bites

and the “I love you”s,

the ones you’ll never remember.

Those memories branded upon my gray matter,

their brilliant, beautiful marks

searing into my flesh.

I remember little dogs and fireflies

passing by the whites of our eyes

like the perfect porcelain of your skin.

I am but a man of stone and dirt,

trite in the face of such a sight,

your beauty and your grace

and those little blue eyes at the top of your face.

A woman of fire and gemstone,

alabaster and ivory;

how could I hope to fill your heart of gold

when I am but granite in the cold?

Wake Up! It’s Feeding Time!

Morning, everybody! Getting back into the groove after still feeling a little out of it. The poem today is one I think you’ll enjoy: a rhyming scheme, dark undertones, hopelessness, etc. I wrote it last night for no particular reason. Please enjoy.

Cavern

Under the soil

where men have toiled

something… roils,

sheathed in oil.

The black beast from the depths

comes to wake you from undeath,

and find the man who once swore

never a harm to a loved one’s door.

Failed did he

and suffer must we

for trespasses done

and battles not won.

His love once known across the sea

and carried upon the backs of bees,

now crippled and withered,

cut to pieces

by quite the scissor.

These sands now hear only buzzards.

Salted earth, like briny waves,

binds a man to dank, dark caves.

His mind in irons

and heart a siren’s,

he longs to see the sky again.