Posts Tagged poetry

Agoraphobia

Agoraphobia, by Austin Kleon

Agoraphobia © Austin Kleon

I’ve only just been introduced to the newspaper-blackout poetry of Austin Kleon — I love this one, ever so much. Buy the print here.

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Lament for Buran

Abandoned launch complex, Buran assembly facilities and launch fields, Russia

Abandoned launch complex, Buran assembly facilities and launch fields

Last year I posted a selection of pictures from the abandoned Energiya-Buran assembly facilities and launch fields. I’ve long been fascinated by the Soviet space program — particularly Buran (“snow-storm” in Russian), which had such a vast scope, and yet had only one unmanned flight before cancellation. Now wild dogs live among the dead machinery, grasses slowly break up the concrete, and everything else is rusting in place. It makes me sad.

Sad enough to write a poem about it, in fact.

Launching/assembly platform for Energiya-Buran
Grasses overtake a concrete causeway

Lament for Buran
by Danielle Signor

A sleeping giant, left in place
Against the stark horizon stands,
Arms folded, longing to embrace
A rocketship with loving hands.
The future once was vast and near,
All gleaming steel and gantries high.
Such wondrous dreams that foundered here!
They wait, abandoned like the sky.

Now rust devours you — wild dogs pass,
Beneath your silent structures sleep.
The concrete causeway fades to grass,
Forsaken buildings, secrets keep.
Snow-storm, your energy was spent
Before you first drew breath — lament!


A wild dog plays beneath a launching/assembly platform for the Energiya-Buran.

A wild dog plays beneath a launching/assembly platform.

Sign for launch complex

Sign for launch complex

All photos © drugoi @ LiveJournal.

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Antique Meteors

The Meteor of 1860, by Frederic Church

The Meteor of 1860 by Frederic Church. Courtesy: Judith Filenbaum Hernstadt (painting photographed by Gerald L. Carr)

Yesterday’s APOD featured a painting and poem that documented a fireball event in 1860. The Meteor of 1860 by Frederic Church is a beautiful work of art, and dovetails nicely with this snippet of Walt Whitman’s Year of Meteors:

…the strange huge meteor procession, dazzling and clear, shooting over our heads,
(A moment, a moment long, it sail’d its balls of unearthly light over our heads,
Then departed, dropt in the night, and was gone;)

Here’s the story of how these two works were connected to the cosmic phenomenon, and eachother:

Frederic Church (1826-1900), American landscape painter of the Hudson River School, painted what he saw in nature. And on July 20th, 1860, he saw a spectacular string of fireball meteors cross the Catskill evening sky, an extremely rare Earth-grazing meteor procession. From New York City, poet Walt Whitman (1819-1892) also wrote of the “… strange huge meteor procession, dazzling and clear, shooting over our heads” in his poem Year of Meteors (1859-60). But the inspiration for Whitman’s words was forgotten. His astronomical reference became a mystery, the subject of scholarly debate until Texas State University physicists Donald Olson and Russell Doescher, English professor Marilynn Olson, and Honors Program student Ava Pope, located reports documenting the date and timing of the spectacular meteor procession. The breakthrough was spotting the connection with Church’s relatively little-known painting. Fittingly, the forensic astronomy team’s work was just published, on the 150th anniversary of the cosmic event that inspired both poet and painter.

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High-Flying

Expedition 24 Heads to the Station

Image Credit: NASA/Carla Cioffi

I’ve seen and heard snippets of this poem, but never read it in entirety before this week. It is a beautiful thing. (Hat tip to John C. Wright for posting it!) It seems to fit well with this lovely launch photo — the rocket in question delivered three individuals into orbit on Wednesday, and to the ISS yesterday.

High Flight
by John Gillespie Magee, Jr.

Oh, I have slipped the surly bonds of earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I’ve climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun-split clouds…and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of…wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov’ring there,
I’ve chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air.
Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue
I’ve topped the windswept heights with easy grace
Where never lark, or even eagle flew.
And, while with silent, lifting mind I’ve trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space
Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.

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The Galaxy

The Milky Way at 5000 Meters

Credit & Copyright: Serge Brunier, sergebrunier.com

The Galaxy
by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Torrent of light and river of the air,
Along whose bed the glimmering stars are seen
Like gold and silver sands in some ravine
Where mountain streams have left their channels bare !
The Spaniard sees in thee the pathway, where
His patron saint descended in the sheen
Of his celestial armor on serene
And quiet nights, when all the heavens were fair.
Not this I see, nor yet the ancient fable
Of Phaeton’s wild course, that scorched the skies
Where’er the hoofs of his hot coursers trod ;
But the white drift of worlds o’er chasms of sable,
The star dust, that is whirled aloft and flies
From the invisible chariot-wheels of God.

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To Watch the Moon on High

Moon, March 22, 2010 by Astro_Soichi

Who but is Pleased to Watch the Moon on High
by William Wordsworth, 1846

Who but is pleased to watch the moon on high
Travelling where she from time to time enshrouds
Her head, and nothing loth her Majesty
Renounces, till among the scattered clouds
One with its kindling edge declares that soon
Will reappear before the uplifted eye
A Form as bright, as beautiful a moon,
To glide in open prospect through clear sky.
Pity that such a promise e’er should prove
False in the issue, that yon seeming space
Of sky should be in truth the stedfast face
Of a cloud flat and dense, through which must move
(By transit not unlike man’s frequent doom)
The Wanderer lost in more determined gloom.

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My Star

Stars

My Star
by Robert Browning

All that I know
Of a certain star
Is, it can throw
(like an angled spar)
Now a dart of red,
Now a dart of blue ;
Till my friends have said
They would fain see, too,
My star that dartles the red and the blue !
Then it stops like a bird; like a flower, hangs furled :
They must solace themselves with Saturn above it,
What matter to me if their star is a world ?
Mine has opened its soul to me ; therefore I love it.

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Poetry Corner

Field of Rosette

Credit & Copyright: Rogelio Bernal Andreo (Deep Sky Colors), deepskycolors.com

Thought I’d share yesterday’s lovely Valentine-y APOD with you all, and… some of my poetry. Starting with the older stuff first to shame myself into finishing some new stuff.

Sonnet #2 – On the stars

O what could be the color of a star?
These velvet skies, all strewn with broken glass
So distanced, merely guess at where they are
Omniscient flames that watch what comes to pass.
Some say a goddess shot them from a bow
They scattered from her fingertips like sand
To drift down through the heavens, diamond snow
Like crystal violets falling from her hand.
They twinkle with their carefree voices calling
We listen, but they never seem to mind.
Sometimes you see a gleaming fragment falling
And trailing astral glitter-gems behind.
Tonight I reach for heaven as I must
And try to catch the falling silver dust.

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Stars, by Robert Frost

Star Forming Region LH 95

Star Forming Region LH 95

STARS

How countlessly they congregate
O’er our tumultuous snow,
Which flows in shapes as tall as trees
When wintry winds do blow!–

As if with keenness for our fate,
Our faltering few steps on
To white rest, and a place of rest
Invisible at dawn,–

And yet with neither love nor hate,
Those stars like some snow-white
Minerva’s snow-white marble eyes
Without the gift of sight.

— Robert Frost

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