Archive for the ‘Moon Musings’ Category


Sunday, July 21st, 2019

In the silent, comfortable company of nobody

Naked, I immerse myself ‘til soaked in silver light that falls

Is the Moon looking at me?

Quixotically, quicksilver, time passing all too soon

And I’m dancing with a salacious, silver, shining ball

Am I looking at the Moon?

Bright, so blinding bright that I cannot see

Insane, exotic madness initiates its call

Is the Moon looking at me?

The sublime lines of Claire de Lune

Hypnotic highs and lows envelope me within its thrall

Am I looking at the Moon?

A once-dark, haunted landscape becomes a white sea

Shimmering grass and tall trees covered by a ghostly grey shawl.

Is the Moon looking at me?

In a luminous looniness drunken swoon

I experience the whole world so differently

Am I looking at the Moon?

Or is the Moon looking at me?

by Stephen Thatcher

The Echo

Sunday, July 21st, 2019

I saw the echo scamper ashore

It was wet and cold and so alone

I saw the echo sit and cry

Though no eyes it had the tears still poured

I smelt the echo as vibration

Thrumming and strumming a silent sound

I smelt the echo in pinks and mauves

Lost in sensation of colours blurred

I tasted the echo in sugared tones

Angelica, cinnamon, walnut swirl

I tasted the echo with bitter rind

Enclosed the centre of withered pith

I scensed the echo in the air

Stars glinting, and seething

I scensed the scho climb a board

A craft dark in ghostly lore

I felt the echo as it lay

Broken and fading another shade

I felt the echo as it fought

Life fragile death-sharp like a claw

I heared the echo call my name

Softly, sweetly, within a velvet bow

I heard the echo shout the word

Clashing contrasts cut to the bone

The Crescent Guard

Sunday, July 21st, 2019

The crescent guards the serpents slumber, cursed to sleep so man can wonder.
It once lived free and fed on stars, and hope was lost between its jaws.
Mankind obeyed its scaly wrath, as light was lost above its path.
Till moons anger cast a sleeping spell, and in a trance, the trickster fell.
The ages pass, new stars were born – glittering heavens where once were torn.
We stare above and wonder why, snake tried to steal the joy from sky!

By Jason Conway

Recumbent Moon

Sunday, July 21st, 2019

Recumbent Moon by ChloeJPoetry

The moon is reclining,
to stand upright

by @ChloeJPoetry

The Cactus

Sunday, July 21st, 2019

In the desert at night it is cold
Ice in the crevices
The sky is clear and dark
Stars shine there
How do you see them?
For me time moves faster
I live longer
It is relative
My stars are streaks
I live in a blurred circle of white blue
My desert
My sky
All around me is silver glitter
I lift my limbs high

Me, Myself and I

Sunday, July 21st, 2019

Walking on this stony ground
Pushing through this thorny crowd
Celestial bodies cry out
Sometime I wish to dismount
The fires of creation
That made me seek sensation
And so the –
Stars are shredding my heart
The sun is shredding my soul apart
The Moon is mashing up my mind
I wonder what they will find
Me, Myself and I

By Saffy

Celestial Montage

Sunday, July 21st, 2019

Celestial Montage ESA_space_inspiration

Did Life fall into this cradle
This Earth, this home –
We now attempt to climb out of?
Or is it more than a cradle
Some crucible or potters wheel
Shaping and baking us in forms renewed?

Maybe in truth it is a bit of both
And as humanity takes its first toddler steps
We begin to see the variety that our world holds


Life here investigated
In case of alien brethren
Life searched for by the heart if not the mind
As the astronaut steps out into the void
For themselves, for us, for a future
A future – As yet unknown
A future for us all
As we grow too large for this world to contain
A cradle we have explored from end to end

But it is only with eyes freshly opened
To the wonders beyond
That we begin to see what we have missed
That which hides in plan sight
The beauty of our world
We seek its twins, our mirrors –
Its twisted folly of form


And if we are on our own?
Then look at the wonders the search has wrought
And if we are not?
Then maybe we will truly see ourselves
For the first time

Until then the void is calling
And all these things?

These investigations
These satellites
And images –
Are our jumping off point
Our call to the unknown

Do you wonder what it will answer?

By Sarah Snell-Pym

Star Stuff

Sunday, July 21st, 2019

Star stuff filtered through the cosmos
Star stuff smaller than dust
Hurtling away from explosive stella deaths

Star stuff heavy metal elements of choice
Star stuff light hydrogen and helium in plasma soup
Colliding, destroying, reforming
Different atoms to be
Diffusing out from red giant expansion
Layers of reaction
Different star mechanisms for different elements
Star stuff permeating the void
Drifting away from it’s crucible bed of origin

Star stuff amalgomated clouds, a nursery shroud
Nebulea of new star birth and planetary spheres
Spinning in eccentric concentric dance

One planet of star stuff
Still pummeled by larger bits of star dust
A planet like all made of star stuff
A planet were the inorganic began to replicate
A planet were star stuff became organic
Became something more, became organised into organisms

Star stuff alive
Star stuff crawling on beaches of star dust
With elements of stella origins making up the cellular core

Star stuff walk
Star stuff talk
Star stuff refines elements from stella explosions
Ands send a rocket to the stars
Star stuff has been watching the starts since it first became aware
Now it is time for star stuff to truelly see what is out there

By Sarah Snell-Pym

Cosmic Scar Tissue

Sunday, July 21st, 2019

Dark scars marked the edges of the cosmos
Deep within the universal core slithering with a pulse
Time counted in an endless rhythm that will end
Will slither to a close
Supping and sucking and draining the energy
Moment by moment
Until the fragments of time can be cut
To another slither
Creaking the gears of celestial machinery grind to a halt
Nothing can now ever be again
Existence is futile
Futures are not to be
Hope and dreams lay bleeding
Pulped to something horrendous
Within the blaze of a creation maimed

We watched it all in Black and White

Sunday, July 21st, 2019

They say if you remember the ‘60s
You weren’t really there
But the moon landing I recall very well
Watching it from my armchair.
Everyone I knew around my own age
Had stayed up to watch it all night
Crowded around their small TVs
Watching in black and white.

We’d followed the ‘Space Race’ for several years
And incredible as it now seems
For someone to actually set foot on the moon
Was the epitome of our dreams.
The 60s were a time of great change
The ‘West’ was embroiled in ‘Cold War’
But that night we forgot about all that
As we watched the moon landing in awe.

Earlier the Soviets had led the way
With their Soyuz ahead in the Race
With monkeys and dogs and Gagarin
Launching them all out into space.
Rivalry in space between 2 great nations
Both vieing for pole position
Now the Soviets had been pipped to the post
By the Apollo 11 mission.

We watched it all in black and white.
Celebrations were everywhere
When the words ‘The Eagle has landed’came
We knew how brave those astronauts were
Armstrong, Aldrin and Collins
They were heroes of their time
Taking that ‘one small step for man’
But a ‘Giant leap for Mankind’.

By Marion Feasey