He focused on the waters. Above, an
Overhanging vista: layers of hues
Were blending in complexity,
Tuning in the sky's allure – the blues
Had darkened overhead, revealing
What he really sought - the minor streak
Could not have been a meteor.
An easy thrum had underlined a sleek
And ever-growing yellow core,
Pursued by dancing tails of teasing fire;
His hopeful eyes adapting, peering,
Smoothing out the contrast. A glorious choir
Trilled inside the power plant,
Harmonising in the pitch of black.
The trail of dazzling effluence had
Harkened him to bend, arch his back;
Give his disbelieving eyes a
Sense of concept, thus assimilate
The aviating UFO.
For many barren years he had to wait
For such a prize: a form unknown –
Unique to Man – for him to see it land
Atop the shore. The underside
Received a gentle nudge from running sand,
Frantic in the wavelets. He launched,
Lurching, surging down in salutation,
Bidding all an earthly welcome …
Overcome by his hallucination.
Copyright Mark R Slaughter 2009
night night night night night night night night night night
night night night night night night night night
night night night night night night night night
night night night night night night
night night night night night night
night night night night night night
night night night night night night
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem