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The Planets



Blue giant,
occluded by distance and
the failure of light,
sad in your solace, earthlike
in your gravity, yet your
giant, frozen sea
supports no life.

Lacking the warmth
of others keeps you
where you are.
Beyond you only Pluto
and death. Blue sadness.
Longest traverse
of the sun.


The intrigue, the allure
of light on the face
of darkness, shrouding
and veiling, dimmer each day,
bejeweled, but
losing your rings
back into yourself.

Cassini’s close adoration
has revealed your
declining beauty, yet
you bear such moons,
as unstable adornments,
as Titan, beckoning Earth,
an accelerated age.


Your rage has
burnt back only the
exteriors of love,
despite sacrifice.
Your rings of rule were
mostly gone before
man’s foolishness.

Your red eye, chaos
of liberty that
requires drunkenness, is just
a long storm on your toxic
surface. Earth, despite us,
erodes and brings forth life.


Contempt and revulsion
for your wars was Greek.
The Romans’ reinvention
of peddling war for peace,
fathering founders through rape,
adulterous Venus as collateral,

all stuck to us like
the dark blood of battle,
unlike the gluten of wheat.
Our blood machines that
roam the Earth and seas
are well fed, leaving
the shit we eat.


What mirror do we have.
A simple lonely ball,
blue-white, in the capsule’s
portal. Our E.T. science
is written in Mary’s room.
Doomsday itself an industry
for profit. Our Earth abides

its own mystery. Have we
found ourselves in those pages.
Some yes. Some not.
And everyone, since
time began,
was born never
to change it.


It is cloud cover that
gives us your brightness,
when brightness is beyond
the moon; when we yearn
for the richness
of wordlessness, love pined
and fed by a pewter spoon.

All our lives, we
love you without
knowing you, as we
do not know ourselves.
Love is the only truth.
Truth is the only beauty.
Beneath the clouds, we learn.


Only in twilight
do you visit, east
or west. Always close
to the god, you dare
turn your face just
once in two revolutions,
so your speed does not

tell us much, except that
loving your god, you lost
our trust. Your left hand
caduceus, twin serpents entwined,
pretends control.
Yet, with winged dreams
we sleep and wake, dawn or dusk.

Review Request (Direction): 
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Last few words: 
This is a short series based upon the planets of our solar system. Hope you enjoy!
Editing stage: 
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Not Explicit Content


A nice, straightforward description of most of our solar system.


. like my lost dreams...the flood


author comment're holding out...should I pull your finger?


. like my lost dreams...the flood

The only thing I'm holding out is my work for comment, and I'm enjoying this immensely. I've been writing poetry for many years, and I'm feeling in stride now at this time in my life, looking forward to retiring next year and having much more time to write. Thank you for your response and thoughtfulness.

author comment

It seems you're an astronaut. Your descriptions reveals...
Beautiful combination of words.

Nice job!

"Poetic license
the poets
the free will to
embroider a good tale
and deviate from the established rules of language"~Jackweb

my planetary poet yours is good.....

You are in tune with the planets and their various energies and traits. Once again, your use of language flow is great. Would not change a thing.


Join in our collaborative poem workshop. Each member will have a chance to write two stanzas at least four lines each. The stanzas must be relative to the poem.

good mix of fact and myth. Well done

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