Posted June 15, 2014
This poem is called A Cheshire Moon. It had some inspirations rooted in a famous tale from a while ago while meeting with my reactions from some space-age news.
A Cheshire Moon
From above, the Cheshire Moon grins.
But does he mock or does he applaud?
It’s tough to tell, distance clouds the intent.
Oh, the distance, the places we scrambled
to get to hanging above our heads.
For man used to play on rockets,
and let our dreams destroy the glass
ceilings of the sky.
And we did this because
we were once told
by a white knight
that it was hard, not easy.
Neither limits nor our dreams
would allow us to falter,
though we entered a Space Race
a bit late, missing an important date
of being the first in space.
So we ensured that we’d never be
late again, and stacked our deck
with good soldiers, hurtling to the
heavens to be the first
to see the Moon up close.
But now satellites travel for us,
since our ingenuity shifted
from soul to sparks. A different white
knight now talks us backward.
Sure, the satellites of now
can get the job done,
but haven’t humans taken a giant leap
backwards?
The squishiness of our dormice
led us astray. We sit here,
staring up at Mr. Moon, pondering
if we’re still welcome to the Wonderland,
the Tomorrowland of the void.
From above, the Cheshire Moon grins.
But does he mock or does he applaud?
EDIT: The Bard's Tale prize is what I'm going for.
A Cheshire Moon
From above, the Cheshire Moon grins.
But does he mock or does he applaud?
It’s tough to tell, distance clouds the intent.
Oh, the distance, the places we scrambled
to get to hanging above our heads.
For man used to play on rockets,
and let our dreams destroy the glass
ceilings of the sky.
And we did this because
we were once told
by a white knight
that it was hard, not easy.
Neither limits nor our dreams
would allow us to falter,
though we entered a Space Race
a bit late, missing an important date
of being the first in space.
So we ensured that we’d never be
late again, and stacked our deck
with good soldiers, hurtling to the
heavens to be the first
to see the Moon up close.
But now satellites travel for us,
since our ingenuity shifted
from soul to sparks. A different white
knight now talks us backward.
Sure, the satellites of now
can get the job done,
but haven’t humans taken a giant leap
backwards?
The squishiness of our dormice
led us astray. We sit here,
staring up at Mr. Moon, pondering
if we’re still welcome to the Wonderland,
the Tomorrowland of the void.
From above, the Cheshire Moon grins.
But does he mock or does he applaud?
EDIT: The Bard's Tale prize is what I'm going for.
Post edited June 15, 2014 by Zeta
