Picking Up the Thread & Who Me?

October 13, 2019  :: 0 comments

Excerpts from Sleeping Beauty Picking Up the Thread Rumor went round and round the land and even abroad of a most beautiful sleeping princess Rosamond, as you know I was called, who was encircled by an impassable thorn thistle which prickly creeping hedge had plot-thickened year after year after year for nearly ten decades and that within that intriguing aculeate …

From Dust to Dust

featured in the poetry forum September 9, 2019  :: 0 comments

From dust to dust our lives are thrust,
while flames the candle’s brief combust.
We leave the shelter of the bay,
unmindful night will follow day,
to launch our voyage, earn a crust.

All nature seems a sage august.
In paths of promises we trust,
not weighing dreams along the way
from dust to dust.

With age comes waning wanderlust.
The mortal frame’s begun to rust.
In measured steps our scenes we play.
But even stars to death fall prey.
And yet there must be more than just
from dust to dust…

editors note:

With places to go and people to see; we’d like to last eternally. – mh clay

Always More

featured in the poetry forum June 29, 2019  :: 0 comments

A mind inquisitive will find
while looking out upon the world
that myriads of whys unwind
from raveled webs in queries whirled
by skies above and realms below.
There’s always more than we can know.

If contemplating mysteries
of life’s existence here in space
along with astro-histories
within our cosmical embrace,
the awe one feels will surely show.
There’s always more than we can know.

In famous drama by the Bard,
where Ghost is spotted ‘wondrous strange‘
by castle sentries standing guard,
mid ‘sworn to secrecy’ exchange,
says Hamlet to Horatio,
‘There’s more than you can dream to know

‘on earth in heaven, countless things
in your philosophy not taught.’
(And so begin misfortune’s slings.)
To summarize his gist of thought
in passage ever apropos:
There’s always more than we can know.

Some think that memorizing facts,
despite their changing through the years
as seen in how mankind reacts
when ruled by prejudice and fears,
amounts to understanding, though
there’s always more than we can know.

The gladiola in delight
will bloom as forces lure her on.
Bright stars o’er-sprinkle dark of night
but fade from sight with breaking dawn.
Thus Nature’s cycles come and go.
Yet there’s much more that we can know.

Vast marvels may await our gaze
beyond imagination’s ken
by polishing away the haze
to clear enlightened vision, then
shall fountains of deep wisdom flow…
There’s always more than we can know!

editors note:

Never enough, we seek more; here and after. – mh clay

Fast Asleep

May 18, 2019  :: 0 comments

Excerpts from Sleeping Beauty The princess speared her palm on the spindle cusp of the spinning spinning wheel and fell down senseless in a death-like swoon. The old crone started in alarm and tried to undo the damage the spindle prick had done but all her qualms cries pat-a-caking rock-a-bye-babying rub-a-dub-dubbing Mother Goosing ring-around-a-roseying and hey-diddle-diddling failed to arouse the …

Cosmic Calling

featured in the poetry forum April 10, 2019  :: 0 comments

The cosmos calls us when our day is done
as gazes turn above to starry spheres,
concealed in presence of the sovereign sun,
while once again the dark of night appears.

As gazes turn above to starry spheres
where reigning moonbeams serve to light the way
while once again the dark of night appears,
we muse on how what’s passing cannot stay.

Where reigning moonbeams serve to light the way,
the twinkling heavens glory in their prime.
We muse on how what’s passing cannot stay,
within a moment of illusive time.

The twinkling heavens glory in their prime,
concealed in presence of the sovereign sun,
within a moment of illusive time—
the cosmos calls us when our day is done.

editors note:

Look again at this celestial shuffle of sentiments wrapped in rhyme; it’s cosmically clever. – mh clay

Celestial String of Pearls

featured in the poetry forum January 27, 2019  :: 0 comments

In a Hubble bubble there’s a pearly gate of blue
bridging ancient galaxies in stunning stellar view.
There we see the sky decked out in beaded cosmic bling
of a hundred thousand light-year curly pearly string.

Think of it!– It’s wound around colossal merging hearts
of two galaxies colliding– such are astral arts.
Infant stars in super-clusters form a shining band
of a pearly necklace strung on filamented strand.

Blue-white gems along the chain, of which there are nineteen,
have three thousand light-year spaces lying in between.
This formation will remain a mere ten thousand years
in those arcs empyrean of Hubble bubble spheres.

Many are the fantasies these ornaments evoke.
Some are astronomical, and others quite baroque…
In what giant jewel casket are the treasures kept?
Might they be the teardrops that galactic eyes have wept?

In a Hubble bubble there’s a pearly gate of blue
or a priceless necklace in the imaged point of view.
Do the heavens muse on Man’s tumultuary worth,
as we fuss and frivol on our blue pearl Planet Earth?

editors note:

Who knows, we might be a link in the ankle chain of a concubine to the cosmic creator; a cluster, if not a cluster f**k. (See the inspiration for these verses from our celestial sister here.) – mh clay

Plutonic Ponderings – Present and Past

November 17, 2018  :: 0 comments

Most haven’t a clue what to do here on Earth to fix our gargantuan plights… Still Dwarf Planet Pluto in Kuiper Belt ring, in that most amazing of flights, has been closely surveyed, contemplated, perceived, scrutinized, photographed, (not to mention its moons), long after discoverer Tombaugh departed, though ashes of his were on board the spacecraft in its celebrated flyby …

Sonnet on Mind

featured in the poetry forum November 15, 2018  :: 0 comments

When reflecting on the nature of mind
Of what wit or wisdom do we dare speak?
For the wind in the sky is all we find,
In a round and round game of hide and seek.
It’s mind over matter, sages surmise;
With power of mind as their driving force
Deductive logicians philosophize
From ‘We think, therefore we are…’ as the source.
We muse; we spin, in dreaming delusion,
Our webs of thought, until nought we behold,
And heady with sense, fall in confusion.
Or is yet the end of the story told?

As our labyrinth journey turns and twists,
We lose our way in miasmas and mists.

editors note: We can, head down, arms tucked, sneak by; or stride through, head up, arms wide. – mh clay

Infinite Rondeau

featured in the poetry forum September 1, 2018  :: 0 comments

Infinity is what we sense
when musing on the vast immense
with universes yet to mold
in starry heavens still untold
awaiting gazers in suspense.

Astronomers of why and whence
search stelliferous pathways dense,
as dreamers dreamily behold

The great sidereal events
in views the firmament presents
upon the cosmic canvas scrolled
shall neverendingly unfold
for poets of the future tense

editors note:

Imagine – stars in heaven, lost in time, await unwritten cosmic rhyme. (Another of Harley’s musings awaits on her page; while time allows, read it now.) – mh clay


September 1, 2018  :: 0 comments

Seasons pass in life’s procession,
days and nights in swift progression,
granting pleasures with each clime
while future measures out the time…

Stamina I lately lack.
Will it like the tides come back,
or am I reaching earthly end?
What will lie beyond the bend?

All that waxes also wanes.
As old age brings losses, pains,
I’ll ease my way through what remains,
seeking out true wisdom’s gains,

and try to sing like nightingales,
before my mortal being fails…

editors note:

Sing loud, sing now; while time allows. – mh clay