Just for Fun, some Sci-Fi Poetry

Tailored genes.

Astral left the safety of her pod
and took the fast shuttle. It threaded
it's way along a clear glass tunnel,
sped through stunning hanging gardens,
above the steamy swamps which lay

far below. Her slim scaly fingers
traced contours of the garden design.
It was summer; fraying at the edges
of her fingers told her she would soon a
shed a skin. She stuck out her tongue

wiggled it a bit to taste the odour
of a change in the air, they were near
the flat plain of the Purple plateau.
She grinned, thought what fun Zeus
would have in the updrafts. Not a day

went by without a trip to some new part
of the planet, Zeus was a thoroughbread,
and the exercise kept him in fine fettle.
Her ears popped as the shuttle slowed,
She wasted no time making her way

to the cagels. Her binocular vision
and tuatara missed nothing, the new
orthi-groom had teased the great white bird's
feathers into pristine condition. Saddled
and spurred, Astral loosened the tether

from the perch and leaped up between
the birds great wingspan; he cooed,
she in turn rubbed his neck. Very soon
they were air-born on rising thermals.
She sensed his feathers loosen and spurred

him on; she steered him through thick
mist using her innate compass. Astral
was aware of the landscape below, in tune
with the planet, she missed nothing. Only
one thing escaped her intelligent scrutiny -

back on earth the genetic scientists
applauded, she too, was being observed .

The Land of Many Suns.

In the land of many suns

Sky glows bright orange

all the trees are leaf green

and cast no shadow

Mandarin rain cascades

percusses leaves, plays music

on pools that lay in the valleys,

water rises in honeyed mist.

Globes, shrouded in mystery,

rise on stilts, the suns reflections

laser bronze glass people-pods,

topped by clear nipples

that afford pent-house views.

They descend to subterranean

level where it is cool and dark

watch fish swim by portholes

eat fried sea lettuce salad

with marine berry wine

listen to music of the spheres

long for their dream-time break

Space Ark.

Lashes swoop down in an arc;
heaven closes her eyes.
The trees turn black, in silhouette,
they tremble. It is noon. The sky
drops a deluge of liquid pearls,
anger flood flashes, splish -

splashes, A black sky thunders
at the man. He drives on, exits
the blackness of the cave,
as he leaves, he torches the place.
He builds two spheres,

spins them, - opposed,
they revolve one inside the other.
A magnet directs the craft,
Weightless, the craft shifts
faster than the speed of light;
as it gravitates, mans imagination
fires him between planets.

Twilight world. ( A Mirror fibonacci)

Fire

sinks,
sunset
spills a soft
salmon horizon.
Two moons in a violet sky,
land punctured by needle columns of purple crystal.
Roots delve deep in amethyst mist adrift on a landscape lit by phosphorescent plants
afloat in iridescent pools of rainbow water.
Black lace arms wave silvery fronds
delicate winged beings
probe each plant
harvest
poets
dream.