O grand charioteers!


O grand charioteers!
souls who hitch onto Mars,
ride his endless fury
above sun-baked mountains
to sacred acres where
mortals seldom tread free

across the many skies
scorched by stern suns, until
a motherly moon heals
lets stout heroes stand tall;
only true explorers
see nature’s gift – complete

Bangs of shadow

Taken from Ron Cohen (http://atmywindow.com/2013/04/21/gibbous-moon/)

Framed by bangs of shadow
pock-marked Luna eyes
the Earthrise
still shivering
from the chaos
that birthed her
billions of years past

Gaia knows she
should send more
than the occasional postcard
but the squabbling folk
who call the surface theirs
seems to be more interested
in earthly war
than cosmic peace.

Swaying, groaning, rising, dying – still.

Each wave slides gracefully
along the sand grown soft from
time and the kneading surf
a hundred billion grains lie
side by side as brothers, even
those hewn from strange rocks.
Sol looms large, and its foil Luna is
only a few hours away, off the edge of the Earth –
changes far too subtle to see, dwarfed
by the wild palms
swaying, groaning, rising, dying


the dead planet mocks;
tells lies;
with its luminous purity;
seducing mankind since;
eras in which only whispers remain;
locked eyes in a tango, crescendoing to a;
brilliant climax;
Luna full, naked and unashamed;
grown old yet a child that has;
yet to grasp polite society;
its uniformity, dull features electrified;
only through the fury of Sol, the Father;
to gaze at Luna is to see;
a canvas touched only by the;
brutal march of time;