The stars are scattered, dust of light,
Across a velvet, endless night.
A universe so vast and deep,
Where secrets sleep, and planets keep
...
Sixty-six stories, a river so wide,
One message whispers, deep inside.
From Eden's dawn to Heaven's bright door,
...
If my dog could speak, you see,
This is what she'd say to me:
'Bowl is empty! Feed me now!
...
Secrets hidden for so long,
Stories whispered, right or wrong.
Now a light begins to gleam,
Old ties kept, behind the scene.
...
A whispered word, on Patmos' shore,
John saw a King, forevermore.
Not just a past, a story told,
...
From cradle small to final rest,
A lesson learned, a constant quest.
Life's gentle school, where we all grow,
A winding path, both high and low.
...
In Boston town, where freedom grew,
A mighty bell, for all to view,
Will ring again, a joyful sound,
As SAIL250 sets the bound.
...
A truck driver named Larry, bold and bright,
Had a dream that took flight, a funny sight.
A lawn chair, balloons, forty and five,
He thought he'd gently rise, just to thrive.
...
'I'm okay, ' she said, her voice a little thin.
The sun was bright, a happy, golden grin.
But shadows stretched, long fingers on the floor,
And dust motes danced where joy had been before.
...
The wind blows hard, the waves crash high,
My little boat beneath the sky.
I row and strive, with all my might,
To keep my course, both day and night.
...
Why does night always follow day?
Why can't a whisper shout and play?
Why do tears fall when joy is near?
And why is the path ahead unclear?
...
Sun creeps up, a painted sky,
Birds begin their cheerful cry.
A quiet peace, a gentle start,
Fills my mind and heals my heart.
...
A rope held tight, a horse stood still.
The Devil passed, a silent thrill.
He cut the rope, no word, no sound.
The horse then strayed to farmer's ground.
...
A man once shone, in golden gleam,
A Muisca king, a waking dream.
With sticky sap and dust so bright,
He stood arrayed in shining light.
...
My world was me, a tiny sphere,
Where others served, and held me dear.
I took their help, with no kind word,
Just wanted more, felt quite absurd
...
The quiet room, a silent space,
No eyes on me, no hurried pace.
Alone, I healed, a gentle art,
A lonely road, a guarded heart.
...
The old words echo now,
A whisper turned to roar,
Of seasons growing long,
And fires at the door.
...
In every thought, a world unfolds,
From fjords to cities, tales are told.
My pen catches whispers of the breeze,
Reflecting lifetimes with such ease.
...
Driven from home by a fiery hand,
Erik the Red found a glacial land.
Along the green fjords where the cold waters ran,
The Norse built a home and a century began.
...
Years he spoke, a voice raised high,
Of science bent, a subtle lie.
To Congress told, a shadowed quest,
Where labs in China are put to test.
...
75 year old norwegian, married and lived in Minnesota since I met my lovely wife, Dawn, in 2010. I've been writing poems most of my life, mostly for fun and as a hobby. I'm 'A Man Of Old Proverbs And Stormy Seas.'. A Norwegian soul with an international view. I am a Norwegian citizen currently living in the U.S. on a green card, navigating the space between the fjords of my home and the midnight sun-shadowed secrets of the rain forest or what ever all over the Planet - and the univers. Everything deserves its own poem, is one of my philosophical phrases. My poetry is born from the things that get 'stuck in my heart and mind'—those stubborn truths that refuse to be ignored. From the corridors of power in Palm Beach to the quiet reflections of retirement, I write to find the rhythm in the chaos. I value honest critique spoken with the shared language of poets who aren't afraid to speak the truth. " I write what I see, and I see what others often try to hide." When you are a foreigner and live in a 'foreign' country with a completely different language than what you have used and have lived with for over 60 years, you sometimes have to use any 'tool' to be understood and to get your poetic reflections understandable and with the right flow before presenting them publicly. So yes, I also use AI to 'translate' my Norwegian poems into my new language, and to find the right and best 'rhyming' words in my poetry.)
Alone In The Universe?
The stars are scattered, dust of light,
Across a velvet, endless night.
A universe so vast and deep,
Where secrets sleep, and planets keep
Their silent watch.
Life started early, here on Earth,
A tiny seed, a humble birth.
Almost four billion years have passed,
A story told, from first to last.
This makes us think, a hopeful plea,
That life's a common entity.
So many worlds, they spin and gleam,
Within the habitable dream.
Where water flows, a liquid grace,
A place to grow, in time and space.
'Earth 2.0, ' a whispered name,
Kepler's promise, fuels the flame.
Scientists believe, a hopeful band,
That life exists, across the land,
The cosmic land, so wide and far,
A distant twinkle, like a star.
Microbes maybe, simple form,
Surviving life, weathering the storm.
But silence hangs, a heavy shroud,
'The Great Silence, ' spoken aloud.
Where are the others? Where are they?
Why haven't signals lit the way?
Intelligence, a tricky thing,
Took ages here, to learn to sing.
From single cells, to thoughts so grand,
A slow ascent, across the land.
No guarantee, on other spheres,
Of creatures bright, dispelling fears.
The Drake Equation, tries to guess,
At chances high, of yes, or less.
But unknowns loom, like shadows deep,
Secrets the universe will keep.
Simple life, a likely chance,
A hopeful, captivating dance.
But wisdom's light, a rarer bloom,
Lost in the cosmic, silent room.
Yet still we search, with eager eyes,
For kindred souls, beneath the skies.
Though shadows linger, and doubts may rise,
The universe beckons, a sweet surprise.
And in the vastness, a chance remains,
For life's bright fire, in starry rains.
Tor M. Solvang