Astronomy Challenge, Page Three

Ghazal Galactic

Taylor Graham

Star-gazing tonight on the South Fork — luminaries beyond my ken:
the Trifid Nebula, Pegasus Cluster, the Harp, Andromeda Galaxy.

TV news reports a Goldilocks Planet, not too hot, not too cold.
Could life exist there? Modern fairytale, home in a far-off galaxy!

We’ll hike the ridge trail by flashlight, bundled for October cold.
Wind plays dry lupine gone to pod, seeds scattered like a galaxy.

No need to register, to gaze at stars. They’re up there every
clear night, for free, for anyone who cares to serenade a galaxy.

Let’s rocket through the generations. Our great-great somethings
arrive at last, scatter our old ashes on a new-found galaxy.

I walk out amazed at constellations circling — or am I just
another poet dizzy from seeking words to catch a galaxy?

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Starry Skies

Juliet Wilson

This woodland clearing dances with bright stars
the sky above full of glistening stars.

The city night glowing strangely orange
no room found now for the twinkling stars.

Sparks rise from the bonfire into the sky
to find their place with the glittering stars.

Trees in the park are draped with fairy lights
that mirror the sky full of shining stars.

Gazing at the astronomy photo
the poet is lost in inspiring stars.

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Stuff of Stars

Robert Godwin

Sagan, Carl. Who Speaks for Earth. Cosmos (PBS) 1980.
A transcript from the final program in the Cosmos television series first shown during 1980 on the Public Broadcasting System in the United States. This version differs from that in the published book of the same title.

We are the “stuff” of stars, we have been told. This stuff
Goes back in Time unmeasured. It is old, this stuff.

An unheard Sound! An unseen Light! The universe
Came into Time from space too small to hold this stuff.

The heat from that great light exploded into Space,
Yet that vacuum holds no heat. It's cold, this stuff.

This stuff of stars, this “stardust,” slowly grows and spreads.
Collecting and condensing, it will mold this stuff.

Deep Time has taught the meaning of this universe.
Galaxies and asteroids enrolled this stuff!

Cosmology begins when Homos have arrived
To stare in Wondering Awe as they behold this stuff.

From this point so infinitely small and tight
Would come the tales of those who had patrolled this stuff!

Robin sees the Universe within her eyes:
Sparks of light, with filaments of gold, this stuff!

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Star Ghazal

Holly Jensen

We witness just our light, stolen from our bold star,
not the last loyal planet circling its cold star.

“Maybe that’s how the game works,” says the new sidekick.
“You mean when the game works,” sighs the creaky, old star.

While I slowly go sane, I dig in the furnace,
shifting through cinders someone told me was a star.

True, we’re rended astrally, but if you collapse
yourself before the bell, you can earn a gold star.

Holly, stand between concrete and heavy, black clouds
composed of one hundred thousand rolling starlings.

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Great Theia, Come and Gone

Robert Godwin

Mackenzie, Dana. The Big Splat, or How Our Moon Came to Be. John Wiley & Sons. 2003.

There is a recent theory to declare, great Theia, come and gone —
About how Earth and Moon became a pair, great Theia, come and gone.

There was a time — four billion years and more (as only Deep Time shows) —
When pale-but-bright Selene was not yet there, great Theia, come and gone.

Our planet grew, as planetesimals rained down in violence,
Creating magma oceans hot and bare, great Theia, come and gone!

The Earth was young and immature; nothing but an accident
Would build a moon and do it with such flair, great Theia, come and gone.

A Mars-size planet sailed its orbit right to where the Earth would be
Quite early on — from 'Outer Space' somewhere — great Theia, come and gone.

In the solar system’s neighborhood, you chose to tag along,
One—tenth the size of Earth. There’s room to spare, great Theia, come and gone.

Time and Space conjoin; orbits cross; Potentialities
Create such Possibilities to bear, great Theia, come and gone.

In some future time: Robin watches as two worlds collide.
Selene is born — so small, so very fair, great Theia, come and gone.

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Red Rectangle Nebula

Tree Riesener

At long past midnight, astronomers walk ten thousand steps that tower
like an angel’s ladder to heaven to the top of their nebula-viewing tower.

Music by the Red Priest, gowns from the Masque of Red Death, wine the deep
red of Chasse du Pape comprise the mise-en-scène of the nebula-viewing tower.

The red rectangle is more properly described as two wineglasses, bottom to bottom.
Wine flows between them, splashing liquid rubies on the nebula-viewing tower.

A double bottom, the sturdy torus, prevents an easy flow, letting etheric wine leak
above and below, a mystery for astronomers on the nebula-viewing tower.

The small glass siphons off measures of wine. The main glass becomes mysteriously larger.
The astronomers check their facts, puzzled, on the nebula-viewing tower.

Wine molecules, excited by interstellar light energy, glow through astonomers’
throats as they console themselves on the nebula-viewing tower.

When the music has stopped and the bottle is empty, they descend, careful not
to trip on their robes, leaving behind them, deserted, the nebula-viewing tower.

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