John W. McEwers

Veteran Poet - 1,178 Points (6/20/1980 / Nova Scotia, Halifax)

The Color Of Space - Poem by John W. McEwers

The world is vast
thousands of languages
and peoples
and jungles
rivers, oceans
places I will never see
even with the help
of National Geographic.

But space is like wow
empty but for
little billiard balls
flitting around in circles
in their own cliques
Cause Jupiter wouldn't be caught dead
at Sagittarius' table.
This gravity and that electromagnetism
and strong forces
and funnel down
disappearing into a chasm of dark
then a blue pinpoint
a sphere of blue and mossy green
swirling white.
Down further to a city by a lake
crossed by highways
and rail lines
and down to an apartment building
with an overflowing dumpster
and the balding head of me,
John, the weak force,
splitting my atoms,
ripping apart.

My half life
just enough
to keep a pasty
brittle structure
legs aching in the sun,
waiting to see another color.

Topic(s) of this poem: love

Comments about The Color Of Space by John W. McEwers

  • Abdulrazak Aralimatti (9/1/2015 7:30:00 AM)

    Truly, the world is vast and the space too (Report) Reply

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Poem Submitted: Monday, August 31, 2015

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