Celestial Angel

featured in the poetry forum December 26, 2017  :: 0 comments

An angel we have seen on high
sweetly watching o’er the skies,
guardian spirit, floating nigh
where the swan-like Cygnus lies.

Bright above it, starlight’s shining.
Dark the cloud beneath its glow.
What the tidings it’s divining,
be they gladsome, full of woe?

About two thousand light-years far
that nebula emission,
where budding astral newborns are
which bloom into fruition,

labeled S One O Six in brief,
has assumed an hourglass guise
shown in this cosmic leitmotif
as heavenly being wise.

Some sense an epic narrative
of verse macaronic toned
with golden rule imperative
that’s for centuries been honed.

Bluish wings like those in snowscape
fashioned on the winter ground
mimic figure in Van Gogh-scape,
after Rembrandt model, crowned,

blown from winds at center stellar
into that iconic shape
for a yuletide storyteller
to leave listeners agape.

Hot gas in ripples and ridges
with cooler milieu combines
as bipolar jetted bridges
sculpt the ethereal lines.

A frenzy of fervid motion
belies its facade serene
like turbulence on an ocean
in seemingly placid scene.

Man has blundered from war to war
blind to future, deaf to past
seeking deities to implore
somewhere midst the cosmos vast.

In these distempered times we know—
as did Sappho long ago
invoke a goddess, from below—
when fortune’s winds falsely blow

let’s urge that angel visitant—
Venus in her ageless rhyme—
to come in pity vigilant,
a needful presence sublime,

thus to animate stargazers
regardless of the season
to be inner space trailblazers
through cause, effect, and reason,

plus to tap the enlightened state
from where true wisdom’s springing,
creating beatific fate,
limned in that angel winging.

Then shall grand sidereal choirs
serenade in countless throngs
caroling forth our hearts’ desires
with a jubilee of songs

and help awaken hope’s rebirth
for everlasting peace on earth!

editors note:

On this holy day after, in echoes of merry laughter; for us, who jaded are, a hopeful verse from distant stars. (Another ekphrastic piece from Harley – see the image here.) – mh clay

A Stellar Fingerprint

featured in the poetry forum November 26, 2017  :: 0 comments

Its fingerprint of astral trace
singles out sidereal face
amongst the heavenly array
of stellar orbs in star ballet
that dance in metamorphous space.

The light dispersals limn with grace
celestial body in its place
for earthly mortals, to portray
its fingerprint.

Yet nature’s flux persists in pace,
as death takes all in vast embrace
despite what star one’s cast to play,
plus humankind will fade away
and time shall by and by erase
its fingerprint…

editors note:

A new spin on, “Which star will play you in the story of your life?” (This rondeau is also ekphrastic; Harley’s response to this NASA pic.)- mh clay

M-Theory Musings

October 21, 2017  :: 0 comments

What theory unifies forces, weak, strong, with gravity— also, to which belong all the string theories of why and because? To answer these queries, M-theory does. Proponents aver it offers clarity as to the issue of singularity. Where there’s a will there’s a way, so they say… In the beginning our universe sprang from membranes colliding to cause a Big …

A Friend in Need

featured in the poetry forum September 29, 2017  :: 0 comments

A friend in a pinch is seldom a cinch
to be found in a world uncaring.
Some might offer aid, then want to be paid,
with an attitude overbearing.

Friends made from the heart will never depart
though the way may be rough and tumble.
They stay at your side through a rocky ride
to help you go on if you stumble.

When myriad woes attack you like foes
or obstacles rise up in doubles,
those loyal appear to assuage your fear
and bolster your spirits in troubles.

Once it’s clear to you that a friend is true,
you possess a most precious treasure,
with rewards that grow far more than you know
or a jeweler’s loupe could measure.

If you’re tempest-tossed and find yourself lost,
shy of courage to make you bolder,
or your cherished hopes fly out of your scopes,
you can lean awhile on their shoulder.

Whatever the rhyme or reason or time,
by silent accord in friendship’s creed,
true friends will be there, your fortunes to share.
A friend in need is a friend in deed.

Aye, friends of this sort are a special breed.
A friend in need is a friend indeed!

editors note:

In light of recent disasters, we’re thankful to see so many of these lending hands (and so much more) to those in need. (Read more veritas verse on Harley’s page.) – mh clay

Guilt will Wilt the Sweetest Flower

September 29, 2017  :: 0 comments

Guilt will wilt the sweetest flower,
Cause the very sun to glower,
Though the skies their tears may shower.
Guilt will wilt the sweetest flower.

Shame will tame the lion’s power,
Make the boldest warrior cower,
Turn the taste of triumph sour.
Guilt will wilt the sweetest flower.

For each mister, miss, or madam,
Son or lover— this is so.
In the Bible Eve and Adam
Did discover long ago…

That guilt will wilt the sweetest flower,
Steal the pleasure from the hour,
Even in the greenest bower—
Guilt will wilt the sweetest flower.


Note: Poem/Song Lyric ~ written in the 1980s for Harley’s version of “East of the Sun and West of the Moon”

editors note:

For an extra treat, listen to Harley’s rendition of this in song here. Check it out! – mh clay

Charcoal Gray – and other passages from The Autobiography of a Granada Cat – As told to Harley White

July 29, 2017  :: 3 comments

photo “Charcoal Gray” (above) by Kirk W. Wangensteen Mark Twain asserted unequivocally, “If a man could be crossed with the cat, it would improve the man but deteriorate the cat.”—no comment from me. And there’s another by him, which expresses sentiments my lady embraced: “A home without a cat, and a well-fed, well-petted and properly revered cat, may be a …

Empyreal Rondeau

featured in the poetry forum July 27, 2017  :: 0 comments

In ghostly skies a stellar glow
from erstwhile stars of long ago
that shone with splendor ere they died,
perchance were wished on starry-eyed,
still haunts in heavens’ spectral show.

We gaze with wonder from below,
amidst our scurries to and fro,
at panoramas mythified
in ghostly skies.

The winds of fame and fortune blow
with sound and fury fiercely, though
our life be ebbing like the tide;
for death o’er all shall yet preside,
unfathomed as the cosmic flow
in ghostly skies…

editors note:

Wishing still, wishing ever… – mh clay

Cosmic Glimmer

featured in the poetry forum May 19, 2017  :: 1 comment

In the blink of an eye of eternity,
with ceaseless Darwinian stride
from our earliest stage to modernity,
we dwelt on this earth and we died…

It wasn’t our land though we thought so
while stomping about in our frets.
We rhetorized peace, yet we fought so
throughout our begats and begets.

In a wrinkle of space in infinity
we crowned ourselves king of the sphere,
killing everything in the vicinity
without even shedding a tear.

If only we still could awaken
from dreams that have led us astray
to visions no longer mistaken
of a truly enlightened way…

editors note:

Ah, yes! Waiting to see “enlightenment” be more than just a word we know how to spell. – mh clay

Before the Big Bang

April 7, 2017  :: 0 comments

What sparked the Big Bang? Should we give a dang how the experts debate as to what might predate it or seemed to exist? Speaking for myself, I cannot resist a fantasy spree of drifting away in reveries vast about our fabulous, fathomless past. Utterness whereabouts always were there, and singularities melt in thin air, when we consider an alternate …

Crack of Shine

featured in the poetry forum March 20, 2017  :: 0 comments

The sky was dark and dreary
as I trudged along the path,
with vision dim and bleary,
under thunderclouds of wrath,

one foot before another,
plodding onward through despair,
yet knowing of no other
road to lead me anywhere.

With blackness fast descending,
though my journey incomplete,
the trail became unending,
and I gave up in defeat.

Surrendering my proneness
to stouthearted courage prove,
I foundered in aloneness,
too dispirited to move.

Every hope and dream was gone
as I lay me down supine,
having no will to go on…
Then I spied a crack of shine.

Light was streaming through the cleft
in a sort of golden haze.
The impression that it left
was of some illumined blaze

which had kept aflame within
midst my melancholy mood
and a mindless inner din
that begot disquietude.

The fissure in the shadow
letting in the rays of light
summoned forth an inner glow
which was hidden from my sight.

I stayed there lying prostrate
for what seemed eternity,
speculating on my fate
as to be or not to be.

At length I managed to rise,
unsteady but striving still.
For life goes on – great nature’s wise –
it can, it must, and it will.

Yes life goes on – the truth there lies –
it can, it must, and it will.

The vision that was present
has never lost its power.
What I saw plus what it meant
comes back in my darkest hour.

It reappears through thick and thin –
that crack of shine that dwells within…

It’s always there through thick and thin –
that crack of shine that dwells within…

editors note:

Yes, it can, it must, and it will. Thanks, Harley! – mh clay