Science Fiction Poetry:

Poetry is meaning distilled. One of the functions of SF is to act as a metaphor for human dreams, themes and aspirations. Part of the fun of writing SF poetry is to allow me to be what I was when I wanted to be what I am now...

Tharsis

A mad wind peppered with dust

comes from nowhere,

going nowhere

over the ridgetop.

It is the senseless howling charge

of the savage

battling for ground lost and

useless

a billion years ago.

 

The rocks too soldier on stubbornly,

still flying their pennants

of red sunsets.

This is an old land,

war weary,

coloured by the blood

of its forgotten metals.

 

It fights

with its last gust and swirl

and perhaps will

finally

win,

burying me deep in soils

empty of ancestors.

*

Pluto

turns a cold shoulder

to the sky;

holding aloof from stars,

indifferent to its eternity

of nothingness.

Everything there brittlecold

and still, though every age

a shimmer

might ripple its fatal liquids

slowly:

the blink of a blue ice eye

and crystals freeze

into existence.

It is black unconsciousness

prowling the limits

of a threadfine chain of gravity,

silent, unapproachable -

no predator,

but killing at once

with motionless apathy.

*

In Time Of The Breaking Of Empires

Only the moon on the hill,

The sway of the trees and swallows in flight,

And a hush in the evening still

Day drifting to night -

 

Only first frost on the lake

And leaves curling to gold,

Yet before this is done the mountains will break

And the stars orbit cold -

 

Yonder the sea grass grows tall

On the dunes, the tide in its turn.

This circle spins on while empires fall

And galaxies burn.

All poems copyright S. Bowkett

Artwork courtesy of Brian Towers.

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