I Was Thinking About How Poetry Is All About The Human Experience, And That Led To Wondering About Experiences
I was thinking about how poetry is all about the human experience, and that led to wondering about experiences that most people don't get to have. This all led me to wondering whether there were any poems written by astronauts, and I found this one, which I thought I'd share.
Last Day in Space
Tomorrow we light our rocket, we burn our engines and likewise, burn a hole in the sky, And thus fall to Earth. How does one spend your last day in space? Looking at Earth, a blue jewel surrounded by inky blackness, Pure Occipital Ecstasy. Unconstrained by your girth, you fly with vestigial wings. The atmosphere on edge, iridescent blue with no earthly parallel, Electrifying Diaphanous Beauty. Guarded by Sirens of Space, singing saccharine songs, beckoning you to crash on the atmos-reef which tears you limb from limb and scorching what remains into cosmic croutons that sprinkle onto the garden salad of Earth. One last feast out the window, A looking glass of Wonderland. Offering both a portal to see your world, and a translucent reflection to see yourself. Contemplation; what is your place in this world below, how do you change it, how does it change you. We are wedded to this planet, until mass extinction we do part. Perhaps one planet is not enough. You study your charts, we prepare our spaceship, and our minds. We make ready our descent, into these seemingly gentle arms. The eager anticipation of hugging your wife, your boys with grins followed by pouting faces, both excited to see you but not understanding why you left. Oh how does one spend your last day in Space. What would you do?
-- Donald R. Pettit
(A NASA astronaut who has been on three space flights, with 370 days in space. I found this poem on the NASA website.)
More Posts from Poemsandphysicsproblems and Others
"You have gained a new source of enjoyment, and it is well to have as many holds upon happiness as possible."
-- Jane Austen (Northanger Abbey)
You cannot make everyone think and feel as deeply as you do. This is your tragedy … because you understand them, and they do not understand you.
“she lives the poetry she cannot write.”
oscar wilde
"We would be together and have our books and at night be warm in bed together with the windows open and the stars bright."
-- Ernest Hemingway (A Moveable Feast)
this... this hit me
this whole movie hit me, and it's not even the first time I've watched it
my tbr is sitting at 22 books right now, and I don't know how I'm ever going to read them all because I keep buying more and more and more and more and more
If you were coming in the fall
-- Emily Dickinson
I heard if you make a post about blackout poetry someone will make blackout poetry of it.
come on little blackout poetry vampires come inside I invite you in
make some blackout poetry I want to see what you come up with
I’m ready for really good shit and that means hilarious ones
good shit is also just blackout poetry in general
chefs kiss
Do not go gentle into that good night
Do not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right, Because their words had forked no lightning they Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight, And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way, Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height, Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray. Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
-- Dylan Thomas
Maybe this one's overrated, but it's my favorite.
and then... *dramatic pause* …she took a nap!
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