Peering out the window opening; leering
at the vastness of a vacuous void,
there are no life forms appearing
and I feel a bit annoyed.
Volunteering for a mission
is just another way of saying
I give you my permission
to be used as you see fit. Playing
hero (when martyr would suffice nicely)
and I know to get back from this place
I will need to get out of this space, precisely
what I did NOT want to do. In case
you aren’t listening, the sounds around
are vacant. In space no one can hear you
scream for Ice Cream (no matter how big the mound),
it would melt before the spoon got near you.
So, I don my suit, untried; untested,
and strap my boots to seal my feet,
If I wore this at home, I’d be arrested
but, on this planet, it can’t be beat.
I press the button to raise the panel
and nothing appears to transpire.
I press it again on this stupid panel
with no result but to fan my ire.
I need release, my mission is clear,
I need to step down to step on the soil,
I haven’t a clue how to get out of here
despite my training and years of toil.
I pound on the door with furied fists,
yelling at the intercom transmitter,
but this innocuous box, it surely resists,
frustrated am I, but I’m no quitter.
“Open the pod bay doors, Hal!” I scream,
but the response, it does not save me.
“I’m afraid that I can’t do that, Dave!” it seems
this spaceship has enslaved me.
I have no qualms about dying in space,
though this isolation is truly scary,
Besides, its memory is a disgrace,
I’m screwed. I’m not Dave, I’m Larry!
© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2016
Written for dVerse Poets Pub – Tuesday Poetics: Fear
A needed escape for two
planned and expected,
they had rejected conventional
getaways. Nowadays, castaways
play it smart. They play it by heart!
He and she on a spree, packing –
stacking the deck in their favor,
a chance to savor life as it was meant
to be. Free, unstressed and untested.
Dressed for a successful hiatus
for the two of us to reconnect
and reject any notion that this ocean
that surrounds us completely
finds us sweetly lost and “stranded”
hand and hand in the sand
on the other side of the island.
She smiles and the temperate nature
her inherent warmth bathes me
with the salubrious rays that emanate
from well within her heart. I start
to construct a hut, a hideaway to stay
well hidden from the elements
and native prying eyes, under azure skies
on our island for two. No “little buddies”,
no bloodstained volley balls. Not a single
luxury, just my lady and me free as the breeze
In tropical climes writing rhymes of love
while stars above illuminate and seal our fate.
It is great to know we are here solely
for the other to rescue lost treasures
and take our pleasures in the closeness
that is shared. Signal flares have been doused
no emergency exists when lips are kissed
and all the rescue needed was my each other.
She saves me time and again on this island.
A solitary place for two, we who have taken
this journey hand in hand on the sand of our
isle. Smiles and more on the shore on the bright
side; the other side of the island where living on
love and coconuts and all that we packed will suffice!
Poetic Asides November Chapbook Challenge Day 9 – The Other______