ThePoemConsortium

The Arc of Parabola, passing through yon Great Ellipse, In the heart of latus rectum doth the spheroid wax prolix! Equidistant conic sections make quadratic functions rude, Chanting praises to Menaechmus as he duplicates the cube; But the jealous polynomials are so variable, I fear, Constant ever be the nullary when the arity is near.

All in the golden Afternoon, Beside yon winding brook, I drowse away The livelong day, My proboscis in a book! If idleness is as idleness does, Then count me But a drone, Arm'd with Tennyson, Milton, Poe, I lounge upon my throne. And yet, my wit doth waxen wise A-feeding on such meat: Confess that Carroll's Jabberwock Is truly kind of neat! But Merlyn, a la T. H. White is wiser Than The Rest; Yea verily, Tolkien's Elven Lore Must Surely Rank The Best.

Places are not haunted--humans are; ghosts in crisp uniforms, Slaughtering each other over tiny strips of land, or differences of Language, skin color, creed...Cain's ghost still wanders over the earth, His mark upon us all... "Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called the children of God." Where are the peacemakers? We need them now.

Last night, ten thousand years ago, I fell a-slumber O'er some ancient book of fearful wonders, and DREAMED... Suddenly I found myself perched atop some ghastly granite spire, an astrologer's minaret out of arcane legend; Standing on that vertiginous parapet, I gazed, Soul-stricken, into impossible gulfs of stars and nebulae, All whirling round me, God's own kaleidoscope... And when, after a century passed, or more, I chanced to look Downwards, and my mind and body reeled-- For my tower stood on nothing but a rough-hewn asteroid, No bigger than a church, my minaret its steeple! Not knowing if I was up or down, I clung in vain to the roof-top Floor, but slipped away...into the vast indifferent Void I flew Or plummeted, I know not which... Awaking in my bed, I heaved a shuddering sigh, but My eyes opened onto the swirling Cosmos once more! In my bed I sail onward, endlessly dreaming, stars and the black eternal night All around me.

Lubbock is as the surface of the Moon, Mandan's hills sleep and dream; The fogs of London drift and chill Pedestrians to the bone... Jupiter's moons go racing round Their master's immense girth, But Antares dwarfs us all in size, If size is all we're worth... There is a place in the Cosmos vast For each of us, great or small, Where everything is just so, at last, No worries there to gall.

She flies in the darkness her own heart creates, Her bronze wings uplifted by eternal hate--- The Moon itself flees as she flaps through the night With her hellish sisters on their terrible flight! I have seen vampires, ghouls, and werewolves at feast; But I know of no other more horrible beast (Save a Gorgon, perhaps) Than the Harpy Celaeno, bitter and foul, Defiling the night with her cruel, shrill howl!

Walking off the earth Falling up into the sky Endless stars await Colour out of Space Devouring the hapless earth H P Lovecraft rocks Isogi, domo Ima, iyé, Anjin-san Wakarimasu ka?

Pallid hopelessness Drifting through my empty soul Bright as endless stars Endless stars of night Filling up my empty soul With eternal night Eternal night sky Overflows my empty soul Pallid hopelessness