Tuesday poem: Sun hunger
November 11, 2024
Sucking in a sun a day,
my appetite is never sated.
My gut remains deeper and darker
than any Mariana Trench.
I stuff myself, gorge and cram,
but can never expel. Once in my jaws,
well, that’s it. Solar systems
are everyday entrées, mere moons
never elicit a burp. Creatures tiny,
creatures huge, on planets I eat,
I clench on them and chew.
I put the die in diet, the ease
in squeeze, but purest light
is my favourite meat.
I store a glowing disc of suns,
hot hors d’oeuvres or tapas,
awaiting my gourmand’s mouth.
Remember my sun-lust,
the tens of thousands of meals,
the gaping wolf of nevermore.
Enjoy the summer warmth,
the waves and sandy, beachy mirth.
Play that game of cricket.
But overs may be more limited
than players ever expected.
Any sudden burst of cold
may be my nugatory tongue,
about to end both grief and fun.
PS Cottier
Source: https://reporter.anu.edu.au/all-stories/monster-black-hole-devouring-one-sun-every-day
Recovering from two launches, I thought I’d post a new poem of a scientific sort, or at least one taking science as a jumping off point.
Tuesday poem: Ursa major
August 8, 2017
Ursa major
Some old ones blow up
and some contract into themselves.
Crab nebula or hermit crab
seems to be the question.
Surely it’s better to reach out,
even with pincers, than to ban light’s
customary caress, its kissing blush of face?
I want to be the crabby old bear,
stained with purple,
snatching berries like song.
Bulking up for my Winter’s
last diminuendo.
PS Cottier
A middle-aged poem about age, first published in 2011 in The Mozzie, edited by Ron Heard in Queensland.
The asparagus fields of Peru are visible from space
1.
Little green rockets
counting down pushing up
tips pierce the moon
2.
Ballistic veggies
spears thrown up to satelleyes
sparrowgrass has landed
3.
Green fingers reaching out
Romero horror film
Night of the single crop
P.S. Cottier
The Victorians sometimes referred to asparagus as sparrowgrass:
“‘It’s a stew of tripe,’ said the landlord smacking his lips, ‘and cow-heel,’ smacking them again, ‘and bacon,’ smacking them once more, ‘and steak,’ smacking them for the fourth time, ‘and peas, cauliflowers, new potatoes, and sparrow-grass, all working up together in one delicious gravy.'”
(Dickens The Old Curiosity Shop Chapter 18)
My brain being what it is, I now picture thousands of guinea pigs lost in the vast fields of asparagus…pretty fat guinea pigs.
Whether there is any other poetry of an eco-poetic slant at Tuesday Poem this week, I know not. Read the works of the other Tuesday Poets around the world by pressing here.
photo by Muffet (cc licence attribution generic 2.0 Wikimedia Commons)
PS Cottier 