Red dust choking us, caking our eyes, blocking our CO2 gear.
My lonliness accompanies me, dark as Syrtis Major,
Making my pack feel heavier.
Your letter, though, in my boot drives me forward.
I remember when we parted, teary and proud;
Our girls made unsure by our laughing, our crying,
Flags and lollipops gripped in their sticky hands.
We march to Olympus Mons this time,
Our scout duties of the southern plains complete.
Guard duty at the summit means more time to think,
To watch my home from a distance.
I see you all there spinning on that beautiful blue orb.
I wonder if you can find me in the sky.
Do you show them where Momma serves?
Can you explain why?
We wander through this alien landscape,
Breathing canned air.
There are no sounds of nature
Just the stomp of our boots and the hum of our gear.
We are all hungry, sick of rations.
We long for deep breaths of country air,
For a return to the familiar,
To feel our own weight.
I want to fill myself with your spirit,
Draw your breath into my lungs,
Return to the treasured rut of routine,
And dance under the stars.
We long for deep breaths of country air,
For a return to the familiar,
To feel our own weight.
I want to fill myself with your spirit,
Draw your breath into my lungs,
Return to the treasured rut of routine,
And dance under the stars.
For now I will press forward,
Do my job,
And dream of home.
9 comments:
Ground Control to Major Tom:
The concept is awesome! Well done!
Shoot! It does sound like Major Tom.
I thought I was being original.
Oh well.
No, no! It's VERY original! I love it! It has wonderful imagery!
I welcome any feedback that would make this poem better. I'm glad you like it, but if something is not working, please speak up!
The only way this poem could be better is if it came with a dish of ice cream!
Now that's a compliment!
For the record, this poem was inspired by the song "Fernando" by Abba, not Major Tom. It is, of course, dedicated to Doc.
I know I'm going to get a pedant point for this, but Kirk (if you mean Captain Kirk) is from Iowa, not Kansas. But that's the general idea. Also, it's like my life only Mars equals Cleveland.
I appreciate all of your praise for this poem and I won't change a hair on its pretty little head. Maybe it's good enough for contest submission?
As I said above, I was inspired by the song Fernando by Abba, which I find both beautiful and ridiculous. Here are the lyrics for your information:
Can you hear the drums Fernando?
I remember long ago another starry night like this
In the firelight Fernando
You were humming to yourself and softly strumming your guitar
I could hear the distant drums
And sounds of bugle calls were coming from afar
They were closer now Fernando
Every hour every minute seemed to last eternally
I was so afraid Fernando
We were young and full of life and none of us prepared to die
And I'm not ashamed to say
The roar of guns and cannons almost made me cry
There was something in the air that night
The stars were bright, Fernando
They were shining there for you and me
For liberty, Fernando
Though I never thought that we could lose
There's no regret
If I had to do the same again
I would, my friend, Fernando
Now we're old and grey Fernando
And since many years I haven't seen a rifle in your hand
Can you hear the drums Fernando?
Do you still recall the fateful night we crossed the Rio Grande?
I can see it in your eyes
How proud you were to fight for freedom in this land
There was something in the air that night
The stars were bright, Fernando
They were shining there for you and me
For liberty, Fernando
Though I never thought that we could lose
There's no regret
If I had to do the same again
I would, my friend, Fernando
There was something in the air that night
The stars were bright, Fernando
They were shining there for you and me
For liberty, Fernando
Though I never thought that we could lose
There's no regret
If I had to do the same again
I would, my friend, Fernando
Yes, if I had to do the same again
I would, my friend, Fernando...
And I shall accept that pedent point in my small hands and lay it neatly in my pearl and jade pedant point box, along with those treasured others.
I shall enjoy the frissons of self-importance that course through my veins as I snap the box shut, impressed by the breadth and depth of my own intellectual storehouse and superior cataloging system of the pointless and obscure details of pop culture lore.
Actually, Big Orange, there's a Dune thing going on here too in this poem
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