http://poetry.drivein-jim.net/ en-us Nucleus CMS v3.51 � Weblog http://backend.userland.com/rss http://poetry.drivein-jim.net//nucleus/nucleus2.gif http://poetry.drivein-jim.net/ http://poetry.drivein-jim.net/index.php?itemid=160 for this. ( in the year 2006 A.D.)

Just... hold on tight, tighter than you ever have before.

No, tighter than that.

Roller coasters in Saturn's rings got nothing on this.

I couldn't sleep, until I wrote this, hopefully your dreams will be
pleasant ones.

Even after reading this.

[ Copyright by Jim, 2006. All Rights Reserved. ]

[ background music: 'Take my Breath Away' by Berlin ]

cometary debris, meteors, old rocket pieces,
no one knew, just something in pieces,
hit the space wheel,
up there, at 1,000 miles above the Earth.

Those that could,
made it to the one rescue ship left,
20 passengers, 2 crew,
23 people needed a lift,
back to the Earth's surface.

No room, not enough reaction mass,
to slow them down, the parachutes,
would have a hard time of it,
only 15 passengers and crew,
is what the ship was designed for.

One young man went to get something,
closed the hatch as he left,
motioned the pilot to cast off.

De-orbit burn,
queries, "where is John ?"

The pilot didn't answer,
a passenger says,
"Who is that in the spacesuit waving good-bye ?"

yells, complaints, screams,
the pilot says, "Too late, no fuel to return,
must get you back to the surface. Hold on."

No ships ready to boost to orbit,
Lunar ships just landed there,
or in hangers for repair near Lunaport,
monthly ship to Mars gone,
too late to turn back,
it is coasting now,
only has fuel left to make orbit there.

Life is so fragile,
out there,
in the Deep Dark.

John looks around at what is left,
of the airlock,
finds a MMU, manned maneuver unit,
and some spare parachutes,
2 oxy bottles, on one the threads are smeared,
its oxy may as well be,
a million miles away.

He quickly gets what is left together,
and departs the old wheel,
just minutes after he leaves,
something hits it again and again,
shattering what is left,
slow motion of this and that,
adrenalin making the debris,
go by with glacial, yet, dangerous,
slowness.

Thankfully the debris goes mostly one way,
the rescue boat another.

John and his MMU,
over that way.

The debris that went somewhat the same direction,
as the rescue boat,
was too small to hurt it,
moving at nearly the same speed,
and then the debris burned up in the upper atmosphere.

Pilot has a heart attack and dies,
on the way down,
a young woman takes over the computer,
orders the landing sequence to begin,
gets the Main chutes out,
landing on the Steppes,
21 down safe, one dead,
some injured.

A 12 year old young woman,
who forced the auto-land computer,
to get the drogue and main chutes out,
and not auger the ship,
into the ground,
is given a helicopter,
then a Mig-21 lift to the space port.

Now, only one up there, to still save.

Out there,
where no oxygen grows.

"Anyone ? I say again, space suit in orbit,
I need entry parameters to reach Earth's surface.
Over !"

nothing but radio static.

"I have a MMU, 1 spare oxy bottle,
5 parachutes. Over "

"John ! We read you ! What ocean are you over !"
the young woman calls on the radio.

"Atlantic. I am generally headed East. Over!"

Descent starts... oxy running low.

Satellites are hooked up,
not designed to work together,
circuits tested,
only one group of ships any where near,
the landing zone.

But so is a category 3 hurricane,
moving slowly,
towards the North by North West,
seas choppy and heaving,
for many miles round.

A small battle group,
aircraft carrier, a destroyer escort,
5 destroyers, 2 cruisers.

Twelve hours away from the landing zone,
to make the rescue,
with a hurricane in the way.

Admiral given discretion to make the rescue,
take own ships' and crews' safety into account.

They head north,
into the storm.

Someone needs rescuing,
and the heaving sea beckons,
with its gray seas and howling winds.

The landing zone,
all those hours away,
it may as well be,
on the Earth's moon.

After struggling for hours,
all ships, except the destroyer escort,
have to heave to,
getting too much damage,
to fight the waves any longer.

"Sandra ? Is that you ?"

"Yes John, I'm at the spaceport, how are you ?
We lost radio contact."

"I'm down part way, had to drop the MMU,
it caught fire, lost the spare oxy bottle to.
I'm down to 2 parachutes left. Over"

The little destroyer escort strains against,
the wind and waves,
it is low, its upper decks,
not all that far above the water,
even in the calmest of seas,
no one can help them,
they have gone into the teeth of the storm,
main mast torn away,
some radios still working,
radar out,
lookouts on the bridge,
trying to spot a parachute,
in the teeth of a hurricane.

[ background music: 'Dust in the Wind' by Kansas ]

Radio contact is lost,
John's radio antenna is broken,
he is only 16 years old,
but he will continue to try.

The ocean so close,
he aimed for the eye of the hurricane,
and made it.

Just one small ship,
looking for one small parachute,
in a storm tossed sea.

The whole world,
listens, watches, hopes.

[screee... static ]

Could it be the Destroyer escort's radio ?
Trying to contact a satellite ?

[ screeeeeeeeee... This is Destroyer Escort Seadog,
we have him and his parachute in sight !" ]

[ exeunt ]

to Dream the impossible Dream.
and maybe get some sleep to.

I left alot out to. Multiple endings,
this one is the one I can live with.
]]> Poems http://poetry.drivein-jim.net/index.php?itemid=160 Sat, 4 Jun 2011 20:36:30 -0500 http://poetry.drivein-jim.net/index.php?itemid=159 [ mostly the long stretch of highway, with sagebrush and clouds, and ]
[the blacktop going off into the vanishing point on the distant horizon. ]

[ http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bfqEisOIMJc ]

Lonesome highway, I am driving fast,
down the road,
one lane each way.

I can almost hear the owls calling in the night,
looking for mice and kangaroo rats,
running from sage brush to sage briush.

Saguaro cacti over the horizon,
I can hear, the loneliness calling.

Nothing for me here,
just the landscape,
moving by fast,
hoping not to run out of gasoline,
before the next town.

Top down, maybe the sun and heat,
are getting to me,
as I can hear a distant Spanish guitar,
playing music,
while castanets rattle in some Cantina,
or was that in the town I just left ?

Nuevo Mars they said,
out by Wolf 359,
a distant M-type star,
small civilization,
mostly an outpost,
lots of roads, few can afford the journey,
just a few people living there,
in a few buildings,
but thnigs will get better,
in the sweet by and by.

The starships will come again,
trade will flouish,
so I drive my car fast,
in remeberance of what once was.

[ exit ]
]]> Poems http://poetry.drivein-jim.net/index.php?itemid=159 Sun, 2 May 2010 17:50:21 -0500 http://poetry.drivein-jim.net/index.php?itemid=158
ah, sunrise ! SF poem

Dream 16 SF poem

fiddle, galaxy, nebulae, piano SF poem

slow solar sail to Jupiter SF poem

just so ya know SF poem


Apollo 11 history poem
]]> Epub http://poetry.drivein-jim.net/index.php?itemid=158 Fri, 5 Mar 2010 07:13:30 -0600 http://poetry.drivein-jim.net/index.php?itemid=157 a treatise in space, time, music, infinity.

= = = = = = = =

As the spiral galaxy slowly turns,
out there in the Intergalactic Night,
a bass fiddle slowly plays,
one note at a time,
with many spaces in between,
nebulae thick with interstellar,
dust and gas,
form proto-systems,
out there,
in the Galactic Night.

Civilizations rise and flourish,
fall and fail,
across the Island Universe,
many of them call Home.

Comets blazing in the night,
some hitting planets,
some making like glorious sparklers,
in numerous solar nights.

Gas giant planets fuss and fume,
while smaller planets,
Pluto-like in their size,
get renamed and called minor,
while in some solar systems,
such places find their astronomers capable of naming,
all of them,
in their many thousands.

Starships move across the firmament,
slowly they go,
as cosmic speeds are counted,
unless you use the speed,
of one galactic turn,
on its gigantic axis.

Globular clusters,
hover above the Ecliptic,
glowing in the night,
some use as navigation aids,
and others see them as pretty.

A bass fiddle somewhere,
is slowly plucked,
string by string,
the quarks show charm,
both are claimed to be theories,
by some and fact by others.

Hydrogen abounds,
stupidity to,
the galaxy cares not,
as it spins on its axis,
in the Galactic Night,
other galaxies are globular,
some stretched by collisions of gravity,
and others are in some strange form,
varying by which direction they are observed from !
[ Shakyspear aside: all that dust, doncha know ? ]

A piano is slowly played,
note by note,
in some of the empty spaces,
in between bass fiddle notes,
plucked by some gigantic hands.

[ the galaxies abide ]

[ exit ]
]]> Poems http://poetry.drivein-jim.net/index.php?itemid=157 Sun, 16 Aug 2009 09:58:52 -0500 http://poetry.drivein-jim.net/index.php?itemid=155 The Doors ]

(Yes, I know they didn't sing those songs. But if they had, this is
the poem I would write.)

[ with a bit of Satchmo playing 'Stardust' here and there ]

[ Copyright by Jim M. Pierce, 2009. All Rights Reserved. ]

Now, it is kinda hard,
going for a moon light drive,
around the moons of Mars.

Not enough of them !

Jupiter's magnetic field can make,
your day feel all like lightning,
in an ouchy kinda way.

So let us head over to Saturn,
for a moon light drive !

A drive past the rings,
a wonderful time,
just floating past the moons,
out Saturn way,
as we glide along,
as Saturn glows in reflected light,
off, above, and below us.

Oh, the galaxies are bright tonight dear !
As we cruise along,
on a lunar drive !

Little bits of rock,
and mighty moons of ice or stone,
glow and gleam,
in the planetary light,
as we sit,
in our two seat roadster,
gliding and looping,
amongst Saturn's moons and rings !

Oh yeah !

[ exit ]]]> Poems http://poetry.drivein-jim.net/index.php?itemid=155 Sat, 1 Aug 2009 11:35:01 -0500 http://poetry.drivein-jim.net/index.php?itemid=154 some is watching videos on Youtube.

Since I think, note that word _think_, any and all conspiracy theories
will be ignored. Many have been debunked as the crap that they are. So
I will not mention them otherwise. Humanity has better things to do
anyway.

Here I go.

[ background music: a piano solo by Larisa, a few seconds from time to
time of a violin solo, and the occasional pedal steel guitar solo.
Well, some giant bronze cymbals to. At the appropriate moments. ]

I remember that day long ago. Humans were going to head for Earth's
Moon. The astronauts had trained hard, some test flights had gone
badly. Apollo 8 had circled the moon. This was to be launch day for
the landing. Three days it would take to get there.

A bright sunny day at Cape Canaveral. A large crowd there. Millions
and millions watching television sets around the world. I was one of
them.

Fuel aboard, clock counting down. The anticipation builds. The
countdown clock goes down to zero.

Liftoff !

I can almost feel the engine roar in my chest and in the air.

The Saturn V/Apollo 11 clears the tower. Roll sequence starts. The
ship and astronauts make their up to Earth orbit, riding on the
shoulders of giants who all made this possible. The ground crews, the
engineers, and all those with imaginations and dreams.

Up in orbit. The LEM (Lunar Excursion Module) and the Command Module
join their tunnels together. They break orbit, firing the engine that
will take them to the Moon.

Three days later they arrive and take up orbit around the Moon.

The LEM separates and heads for the surface of the Moon, the CM stays
in orbit with one person on board.

Boulders are spotted in the landing zone, large ones. Manual control
is taken. They start moving sideways to clear the boulders. Not close
to the surface by much, 60 seconds of fuel left.

They get closer, 30 seconds of fuel left before they have to fire the
ascent engine and return to orbit.

The engine flame starts kicking up dust.

from Houston, "15 seconds !"

"Contact light !"

The engine shuts down.

Then, "Houston, Tranquility Base here ! The Eagle has Landed !"

"We copy you down Eagle, a bunch of guys were turning blue ! We can
breathe again !"

Walter Cronkite becomes speechless as the astronauts walk out onto the
Lunar Surface.

"One giant leap..."

The landing took place on July 20, 1969.

What a wonderful feeling it was. We had made a small journey to
another world. The future waited, Mars and the rest of our Solar
System beckoned.

[ exit ]
]]> Poems http://poetry.drivein-jim.net/index.php?itemid=154 Sat, 18 Jul 2009 10:41:08 -0500 http://poetry.drivein-jim.net/index.php?itemid=153 [ Copyright 2007. All Rights Reserved. ]

[ Background music: end theme from the
'Space Cowboy' anime; 'The Real Folk Blues'. ]

the solar concentrators make it hot,
the ground isn't frozen,
have to wear a breather mask,
and the oxygen tank is heavy.

But I'll get the corn and wheat in,
the market to Marsport,
isn't too far away.

I can see the lights,
of the starships taking off,
from the space port,
but I don't have time,
to stand around and look at those wonders,
I have plenty of wonders growing here,
wheat and corn,
in the dust of Mars !

[ exeunt ]
]]> Poems http://poetry.drivein-jim.net/index.php?itemid=153 Fri, 10 Jul 2009 11:09:02 -0500 http://poetry.drivein-jim.net/index.php?itemid=152
[ Copyright 2003. All Rights Reserved. ]

[ background music: 'I Drove All Night' by Cyndi Lauper ]

A starship,
moving thru the Deep Dark,
between the arms of a galaxy.

Distant suns and nebulae,
light up distant skies,
'tis faster they say,
to travel between the arms of a galaxy,
saves wear and tear on the ship's hull,
but its lonely.

Days away,
from any help,
of any type,
have to get,
the freight thru.

Driving a ship,
at high speed,
down the spaces and emptiness,
between galactic arms,
is lonely,
in the Deep Dark.

No stars to light my way,
I navigate by beacons and globular clusters.

Such a method,
can be uncertain,
they say.

I get where I'm going,
anyway.

Solar systems,
too distant for my radio to reach,
any time soon,
gleam over there and over there,
above and down below my ship.

But its dark where I am.

Nothing up ahead,
as I follow,
the dark nothingness,
between the arms of the galaxy,
unless of course,
I go off course,
But the freight must get thru.

No frequent stops,
like the luxury liners make,
their fancy fixtures,
gleaming in the light,
from the many Suns,
along their way.

But the freight must get thru.

I'm just a freight driver,
on an old,
junky looking freighter,
moving at high speed,
down the empty spaces,
between the arms of,
a galaxy,
getting food and goods,
to lonely research outposts,
out there,
in the Deep Dark.

I drive,
thru the Night,
making many light years per hour,
between the galactic arms,
the Suns and nebulae,
gleaming off to the sides,
of the Great Rift,
between the arms,
of this galaxy,
I love so much.

Oh, I yearn,
for home.

But the freight must get thru.

They depend on me,
the research stations,
and the outposts,
on the edges of the Great Rift,
I drive thru the Night,
of the Deep Dark.
]]> Poems http://poetry.drivein-jim.net/index.php?itemid=152 Fri, 10 Jul 2009 11:07:35 -0500 http://poetry.drivein-jim.net/index.php?itemid=151 [ Copyright 2007. All Rights Reserved. ]

A lone figure sits in a chair made of wicker,
over by the piano,
a piano with some lovely keys on it.

The silhouette shows the figure,
wearing a top hat,
and holding a cane.

Some distant light source,
blue I think it is,
shows some sparkles on the clothes.

The sparkles shine dimly in the reflected light,
a distant, slowly coming closer, song,
starts up,
it has an upbeat tempo,
anyone can dance to it.

Let us begin,
the figure slowly rises,
a smile crosses her face,
tap tap go the tap shoes,
the cane bounces along,
and twirls through the air,
other dancers,
brightly colored clothes they wear,
others seem built of sequins,
along with their sequined clothes,
go prancing and dancing,
Zoom around in circles,
lines and parallelograms,
Leaping up into the third dimension,
or maybe they were some string theories,
clashing and making universes,
strutting across the Stage,
oh, how they dance !

Dancers on the wind,
their wings flow so wonderfully,
others amongst the stars,
for the stage is brightly lit now,
as the dancers pass by from different directions,
sometimes in a group,
or in single file,
dancing across the way,
along a river or lake,
down the street,
across the continents !

They make figures of colors,
as movement brings them all about,
like a ship of many sails,
running before the wind,
as it brings up a cool breezes,
plenty of sunshine accompanies the dance,
with the occasional cloud,
to cool things off.

For this is a dance called Life !
for many centuries it has gone on,
for many centuries it will continue.

[ exit]]]> Poems http://poetry.drivein-jim.net/index.php?itemid=151 Fri, 10 Jul 2009 11:05:29 -0500 http://poetry.drivein-jim.net/index.php?itemid=150 a repost from long ago...

imagination activation: five four three two one

[ Copyright 2002. All Rights Reserved. ]

It was a week or two before Halloween,
and I decided I better go on out,
to the Desert Highway,
it leads to a B-Movie Drive-In Theatre,
out there,
where the stars are bright enough,
you don't need lights,
to find the popcorn machine.

You could read the small print,
on a car title loan...
yeah.

It was that bright.

Now I don't know,
if you've been driving down that highway,
out there in the desert,
and noting something large,
moving along side of your transport,
it coulda been a giant Tarantula,
or it coulda been Them giant ants,
or maybe it was Mothra,
who got sold an out of date,
gas station map to Tokyo,
and Mothra was kinda upset,
having a date with Godzilla,
it was a dinner date,
with Tokyo on the menu !

But it was gonna find that gas station,
out there,
on the Desert Highway first...

I hope the gas station isn't made of wool.

Wooly Mammoths !

Nope, this aint 1 Million B.C. !

Maybe it was them Killer Shrews,
and the Giant Gila Monster,
looking for some teenagers to fricassee.

Was that the haunted House on Haunted Hill,
we just passed by ?

Maybe it was The House of Usher instead,
or maybe it was the Blob eating up a small town !

Now, ya gotta watch out,
for the Wasp Woman,
she has a sting and the way her kids are born,
you just wont believe.

Of course, they could pick on the wrong teenagers,
like the Teenagers from Outer Space.

Or maybe it was Dr. Frankenstein,
taking his new 'kid' out,
for a midnight kite flying contest,
run by the Addams' Family !

I'm not sure.

But it coulda been one of those folks.

Walking along side of my transport,
beside the Desert Highway.

On the way,
to the B-Movie Drive-In Theatre !

I'm sorry,
but ya just gotta keep up,
I know I know,
your car can't keep pace,
with my galfriend,
She is 50 feet tall,
and she is wearing Seven League Boots.

Some guy name of Sinbad gave them to her.

Darling, I know I forgot my wallet,
yet again,
but maybe this theatre has change,
for that navel diamond you wear,
even if it is as big as a Roc's egg...

Look !

I see all of our B-Movie Buddies are there !

The night will lead off with a Popeye cartoon,
and maybe some Betty Bop as well,
then the main creature feature will start,
in the bright moon light,
as we get nearer,
to Halloween Night !

[ boo ! ]
]]> Poems http://poetry.drivein-jim.net/index.php?itemid=150 Fri, 10 Jul 2009 11:02:53 -0500