Poems for Planets: Saturn

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Welcome fellow bloggers, readers and nomadites. This journey into the deep black vastness of our solar system lands us on a Titan. Our previous subject Jupiter is followed by Saturn. When we can separate Saturn from the other nine planets by its great rings. It has over 30 rings and 62 monds. This planet has been known to man for a long ol time. It iz visible in the sky with the naked eye.

Obviously we had to touch on some mythology to add depth to this mighty planet. This planet opens the door to some interesting family affairs. The planet Saturn is linked to Chronos, who was … dum dum dum, a Titan King. Chronos or Saturn was the God of Time.

Now this Titan is tied up in all manners of madness. He had castrated in father (Uranus) and was cautious about his children doing wrong by him, so he swallowed a bunch of them. Eventually there was some kind of family revolt and heads rolled, I couldn’t make this stuff up, it was a family feud for the ages. Essentially we have his Son (Jupiter) and his father (Uranus) either side of him. This might explain why Saturn rotates at such a high speed, hes busy keeping an eye out for each of those two.

Without further delay, here it is folks.

 

Saturn: Ballad

 

 

 

Your past has caused you mischief,

your paranoia looms.

Your patricide has turned the tide

and stalks your many moons.

 

You stretch your crystal rings

to deter your cunning seed.

You dizzy yourself in vain,

You are the last of a stunning breed,

 

You are tracing that orbit slowly,

you continue to master time.

Devouring all that fades

Chronos your power binds.

 

You are living between your kin

Your father and sun for flanks.

Each plotting some hidden sin,

there is power inside your ranks.

 

Cronus, as old as time

You have been known by many a man.

Since forever before my father,

We can see you from where we stand.

B.N.

 

 

Poems for Planets: Jupiter

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Even as the nights close out without a whisper of life across these pages, there forever remains the lingering promise of content. I never forget.

We are resuming the poetic planetary exploration with a look at Jupiter. This gas giant is the largest planet in our solar system. Methodologically Jupiter is the ruler of the sky, he bares close relations from the Greek Zeus, armed with a lightning bolt he sits at the throne.

Jupiter is the biggest planet in our solar system. Characterized by a gassy atmosphere, which earns it the name Gash Giant, and its sports a bunch a few rings and a lot of moons. Jupiter has the largest mood going. Ganymede, Jupiter’s largest moon, is larger than both Pluto and Mercury. How regal.

Without further delay let me get into it.

I present to you…

Jupiter: Acrostic

Jutting your royal rings into the thicket of this night,

Undying is your might that conjures that cutting light.

Pirouetting moons of many, score the air you breathe,

Inspecting your gaseous skies, in cries of “Glory Be!”

Titan features has this Ganymede who watches where you sleep

Eagle in eye, mighty in frame he rose from Zeus’ keep.

Raging for an age is the storm inside your heart,

the great red spot that rules the thickest of this night.

B.N.

Poems for Planets: Mars

 

 

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 Another wonderful day, and  poetry must go on. I did not forget this project!

Here is the latest of the lot, and Ode for the Martians among us!!

Mars is the planet that follows on after earth. Its the second smallest planet in our solar system, but boy what a beast. Crazy weather cycles, crazy sandstorms lasting for months and despite being smaller than the other planets it has the largest mountain in this solar system. Pretty bad ass planet, a fitting planet for the god of war, that ares spirit, that red planet, that Mars.

An interesting piece of information on the mythology that I found very interesting, was the icon spear of the god Mars. It was said to tremble and shake when war was coming, Imagine the excitement on his face when he felt that. Learning and piecing it all together was a challenge for sure.

 Without further delay, I give to you …

Mars: Ode

Your face forever flushed a royal crimson,

Your heart forever ready to brace the fight.

A man at arms, the ward of godly might.

 

Phobos and Deimos follow and echo your iron will*,

They march for a thousand leagues to feed you life.

Armored to the hilt holding your place in swollen nights.

 

 

We listen for coming glory in the tremors of your spear,

That summit of your Olympus that is the envy of your peers.

Your secret love for Venus showed your skill in love and war,

Though your size may strike us slight, your power harbors more.

Those torrents of raging mists rouse your passion for the fray,

Through the vigor of our Ares we live to fight another day.

*The two moons of mars.



B.N.

 

 

Passing Time

 

It’s all well and good writing all day, I love it. Spending hour after hour picking apart and piecing together these word pictures. If I could, I would live inside these patiently woven word capsules and never catch sight of day. Words tend to take me places, crazy places where mystery meets magic and the wonders never cease. Reality, the cruel creature she is, strips me of my juvenile fancy to stay at play, so I have to take to finding solace and joy in the land of the living.

I’m a man of simple pleasures. I have a few vices that keep me human, a few friends who keep me toeing the fine line of sanity and a few core principles, these help steer this crazy fare ground ride in the right direction.
I try to feed my various faculties well. I got in the habit of making sure that my mind, body and heart were always getting there fair share of the pie. As with most things, the more I fed them, the more they grew. The more they grew, the more they wanted to consume. My entire life is now spent catering to these faculties.

I used to own a small book shelf, a quaint little thing. It held an assortment of fiction and nonfiction, from from a hand full of authors. That little bookshelf stopped being enough years ago. I discovered  that I always had to know more, I always had to read more, I always had to learn, leafing deep into the paper hides of everything that tickled my curiosity. My small collection has grown in size. Since I started feeding my mind I’ve had to reach out for more content to appease its hunger. I now have  a bookshelf, a duffle bags, and an assortment of storage boxes filled with literature I’ve digested, and literature waiting to be soaked in. I like to read.

The books and the writing cater to a more sedentary life style. I balance the quiet of the study desk with the action and vigour of sport. I was once a very keen basketball player, playing through all 7 days of the week if the opportunity presented itself. Of late, I’ve had to enjoy the sport more sporadically than I would like to. This hasn’t been a barrier enough to dwindle my physical exploits. I make the effort to work up a decent sweat as often as I can. I’ve recently started setting myself some challenges, something to keep me pushing the envelope and working to get better, fitter, faster, stronger. I’ve ran a few races with surprising success, a couple 10k’s and a Half Marathon. More recently I’ve taken up a new sport to sharpen me up a bit. Its all exciting stuff, hard work, but truly exciting stuff. I’ve always enjoyed the lessons in discipline that sport has been able to teach me. Eating well was always a true test of discipline, having to turn my nose up at a banquette of baked goods has been testing.

When all is said and done, I like to take time to take care of my relationships. Depending on who you talk to, I take to this with varying degrees of consistency. The down side to chasing storms is that you lose track of time, after the dust settles, everything appears strange and out of place, with your bearing a little off. In light of all the sacrifices I’ve had to make in pursuit of this vision of mine, a few faces have stayed close by despite the bouts of radio silence. Its hard to ignore those faces, without those faces the initial fear would have swallowed me whole and I wouldn’t have dared to try. Taking the time to share moments with these people is precious, it makes sure my heart is filled with all the right stuff. Whenever I step back to life I take the time to laugh, cry and make memories with them.

When I am not writing I try to make my days count. At times it feels as though there aren’t enough hours in a day, but for each day there is time enough for savouring moments. There are moments to grow, moments learn, moments to love, moments to live.

Blissful Nomad

 

 

 

Someday

 

Dear Someday,

I hope this letter reaches you. I meant to tell you all this in person but something came up, as it always does. I’m sorry. I promise, Someday, well meet.

I always talk about you. I think your name has stained my lips with a  promise and  its made for colourful conversations. I talk about you with my friends, with my family, I even find myself talking to complete strangers about you. I tell them about everything we have drawn up in those little dream books of ours, they seem to love you. The people around me haven’t been too impressed with some of my decisions lately, so its kind of a big deal that the like the sound of you. Heck, I really like the sound of you too, you make it sound so easy.

I often revisit those notes we drew up in the hours spent scheming in leu of work. At the top of one of the pages we started a list with “6am Wake up”. 6 am wake up, boy, I remember being as excited as you were when I wrote that down, it was powerful. 6am meant getting a jump start on any day, with everyday we would have had this full day to get things done. I think I must have slept with the laptop on that night, because the light from my screen tends to mess with my REM cycles, so I had to snooze a few of those 6am wake up calls. Dont worry Someday, Ill do it.

Its such a shame its not as easy as writing these things down and then just watching them happen. We could definitely be kicking back with a talk glass of something cold to celebrate our winnings. I mean, look at these lists, of course wed be well on our way to something major. Running a 40 minute 10K, entering a writing competition every month, training 3 times a week, eating well, meditating everyday, and reading at least 2 new books each month. Why wouldn’t that lead to greatness. Only if it was easy as writing it down and watching it happen.

When we talk about all the little things and all the big things that we could be doing, its like you were painting a fantasy. Asking me to just erase a whole bunch of stuff that’s been around me for so long that world looks fuzzy without them in it. You have the best intentions when you try to teach me about taking chances. The whole thing about missing 100% of the chances you don’t take is straight out of some Rich Dad Poor Dad speal, but sucks that it makes sense.

I know you aren’t as far away as I’d like to think sometimes. To some degree you scared me with your willingness to break the mold and walk where there wasn’t a road. I’ve stacked a lot future against your name, I guess its time I shouldered my share of the burden.

See you soon,

See you at Sunrise.

 

Yours

 

Blissful Nomad

 

Step Into My Office

Where is this all coming from? I’m not talking about the home of my thoughts, not that labyrinth, heavy with winding passages. Rather, where am I writing this from, Step into my office.

I was told it’s important for a writer to have a writing space, a place to sit and single mindlessly focus on bringing about a world of make believe. Some people escape to a place that’s very separate to their daily life. I’ve heard of writing rooms, rented spaces in building blocks, coffee shops and forgotten class rooms. I have a double room that serves me for the purposes of conjuring vivid dreams, and as a place to lay my head at night .

The room affords me the comforts that are expected from any room fitted for its purpose. I have my bed, tidily hugging the left most wall of the room, with a small bed side table ticked against it. The lazy white wash of the walls crowds around me, coating the ceiling and coursing up to where the window allows the world in.

I have learned to lose myself in this window frame, It’s changing tones affect my frame of mind accordingly. The crashing chorus of Crimson that the sun paints into the air dancing my mind into a creative flow. I sit myself up with my back against my head board, pull my laptop up to my lap, point my feet to the opening and drift from Window to window, the world and my world, picking at the inspiration wondering in. Sometimes the pace of a pen has the temperament needed to steady the feverish pace of my thoughts, in those moments I lay prone across my sheets and etch away at the pages.

I don’t always have the luxury of my bedroom to pen a phrase or two. I make use of the stage, the world around has pockets of peace that have aided me from time to time. I’ve joined the crowds in quiet cafes and hidden among the bubbling life of a local pub. However spontaneous the location for my next writing session might be, I intentionally seek that window, with my back against the wall and the world looking in, I delve into whatever mischief the pen requires for that moment.

It’s here that I chase my slumber, in pursuit of dreams I dare to stop and watch the fury of my mind bind it’s musings to paper so I can see them.

Welcome to my office, sanctuary of dreams.

Gold-Mind

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There is so much gold inside your longing to be you, this is the most precious intent. No heavy cloaks of foul feelings can dim a diamond cut by the goodness you feed your mind. The mind, so precious an instrument, when seeded with love will yield abundance. Make the mistake of welcoming thoughts with ugly features and you run the risk of stepping into an ugly world, cold and uninviting.

Its okay to be you, let the manikins muse. So often revered, this jury of your pears has played a role in stifling your sunlight. You have earned your summer, so smile and forget shame. Learn to love all that your heart conjures in its hunger for life, its thirst for love, and its wants in the throes curiosity.

I have never seen a rose recoil in shame. It blushes often, but bears its head with pride, unashamedly a rose, be a rose. Let all the goodness in you blossom and let the world return the favour. There is nothing more contagious than true happiness.

…If you have good thoughts it will shine out of your face like sunbeams and you will always look lovely.

Roald Dahl